Dinky's Docket

More Carnage. . . well, almost.

My wife called me at work yesterday barely able to speak. She was sobbing. I was finally able to ascertain that she had hit a dog and she was hysterical about it. The owners of the dog had been there and, thankfully, were very nice about it, saying there was nothing she could have done, that it was not her fault, that they should have had it on a leash. Still, she was punishing herself ("What if it had been a kid?") and admonishing me to be careful on my way home from work. Last night she shared an insight I have known about her since we met: What terrified her was the lack of control we have in this life. You can take all the precautions in the world, obey all the rules, do everything you can, and things still happen. Although I knew lack of control terrifies her, I always thought it was because she was a control freak. Now I'm beginning to think that is an incorrect assumption. She doesn't want to be controlling, she wants safety and security. Anyway, I asked what shape the dog was in and she said, "Oh, he's ok. He was running around after." I unsuccessfully stifled a laugh. Imagine what she would have been like if she'd killed the poor thing.

Art and Fear....

A long time ago I picked up a book called Art and Fear. At that time, I was buying everything I could that might tell me how to realize the dream I've been nurturing (and neglecting) since childhood of being an "Artist" (artist....artist...artist...echo...echo). I have wanted to write, draw, and be a rock star (rock star....rock star....whatever) ever since I was a little chickenshorts. I don't think I got past the first page. I think I liked just having those books on my shelves so people knew I wanted to be an "ARTIST" (I'll dispense with the echo...you get the picture.) Now I don't want people to know it. Wanting to be a writer or painter without having produced anything, even "bad" work, is not something you want everyone to know about. In the case of this blog, there's only one person who reads it, I think (Thank you, thank you, thank you, Dave!), so I'm not to worried about making the statement here. What I'm trying to get at --and getting lost along the way--is that I picked the book up again and have discovered that it is packed with wonderful little, life-sustaining tidbits.