There are so many things I don't get, it's almost ridiculous.
There are some days when I curse the day that I named this blog "Here's What I Don't Get" because I have a permanent theme. Then when NaBloWriMo says that the theme for this week is "Wanting" (or some variation thereof), I have to think "How can I blend wanting with what I don't get? Do I write about what I want to get? Or how wanting is so very different from getting ,or from not getting?" Or do I chuck it call and write about whatever I want, blog title be damned?
There are some days when I think that it's the perfect name. Because it doesn't matter if this is the theme. There's no end to what I don't get. What I don't get encompasses everything: want, waterbeds, wallabies, water, wistfulness. Whatever.
And then there are some days when I think each of the above, alternatingly, sometimes in intervals as small as 30 seconds. Today is one of those days.
Today I don't get why I got so mad at my kid for doing the best she could do, even if it didn't seem good enough to me. I don't get why I (and most parents) have some sort of idea that our kids will be like we were when we were kids (that's a lot of we's). I don't get how I can have no idea what to write and yet I can write anyway. I don't get whether this counts as writing, or whether it is by necessity cateorized as drivel. And I don't care.
I don't get why the town of Maynard (or a city, or whatever it is) put my dog sitters out of business, even though a special zoning board approved their operations. They say they "don't wish to support dog businesses." WTF? My little Puck (seen here)
loves it there. I've never found anywhere as wonderful to leave him--and I just found it recently!! Terrific people (Thanks, Deb & Steve), terrific place, great, happy dogs. And the town doesn't "wish to support dog businesses."
Tell ya what. Write 'em a letter. That's what I'm doing. Tell them that dogs are a man's (and woman's) best friend, and ask them why they don't know that already, and how can they discriminate against such a proud bunch of little dogs who never bit a soul and who are almost definitely not related to the dogs who bit these town officials when they were little, leaving them forever biased and scarred.
Look at him! How can they deprive that face? It's Un-American, that's what it is. Tell 'em so. Tell 'em to let The Idle Dog be. Give 'em a mailbag full. Here ya go.
195 Main Street
Maynard, MA 01754
(same address as his comrade)
It's just not right.
People with power messing with People doing good.
I don't get it.