It's not fair.
That was her lament. She wanted the Beagle to sleep in her bed but he was sleeping in her brother's bed and he always sleeps in her brother's bed but the Beagle is her dog too not just her brother's and why can't the Beagle, every once in a while, sleep with her.
I was walking by their rooms when this injustice rolled down like rivers and she looked at me for advocacy and I said something entirely profound like hey, let's just get back in bed and she let me have it - "it" as in the previously stated lament laced with loud and tears. I started to go to her bedside but decided to leave sleeping dogs and tucked in children alone. Besides, it was already after 9pm and I needed to check my site meter.
She came to me not five minutes later. Dad, I'm sorry I yelled...but it's not fair. I patted my knee, the signal that's it's o.k. to sit and tell me about it, and so she did. And I listened. Tears, hugs, and forgiveness followed, along with a promise, as her father, to be more attentive to fair and balanced Beagle-in-my-room scenarios. She said I love you. I said I love you back. That's fair.
I have no desire for the Beagle to sleep in my bed. I sleep with a lady who smells light years better than the Beagle and her legs are smooth as spider's silk, not hairy like his, so I'm good.
But...sometimes...sometimes I would like to have a wildly popular blog. It's really not fair. You see, other people have thousands of followers and comments galore on every post they type, they're linked to by others throughout this land that is yours and mine, and for the life of me I can't understand what they're doing that I'm not, other than that they have cool headers and post a lot of pictures and they probably twitter. I mean, the internet is everybody's internet, not just theirs, and sometimes, at least once in awhile, I'd like the...shucks, you may have heard me yelling in those sentences. I'm sorry. But it's just not fair.
It amazes me sometimes how full of fickleshit I still am (I just made that word up, but I doubt it'll make this post more popular). It's not fair really. I mean, c'mon, I'm forty-three years old after all and I should be beyond all that...but I'm not. It's probably a good thing that my blog is not wildly popular. I know me and if it was, well, I'd probably spend much more time at the keyboard than snuggled up close to my wife in bed and she'd no doubt get to the point of saying either you stop that danged blogging so much or I'll stop shaving my legs. I really wouldn't like that. And I know me and being "all that" in the blogosphere would probably dull my attentiveness to promises I've made to my children, promises I want to try my best to keep because I love my kids and they love me. Yeah, that's fair.
Beagles will fade and blogs will wither, but...
(Hey, if you want to link to this post from your blog or twitter account, it's fine by me, really, no worries)