Sorry, on my way

No four words have the power to reverse the energy traveling in one direction more than “Sorry I’m on my way.” A boat can’t be put in reverse, a car can’t u-turn, a just proposed to woman can’t reject her lover with the same immediate about-face as fast as that simple, loaded, phrase.

Unlike the “it’s not you it’s me” or “do I look fat?” this phrase is consciously or unconsciously delivered to the person who is waiting and suddenly puts said person into the responsibility seat. A man that delivers the “it’s me” speech more often than not feels bad for the woman or he would have simple texted or emailed. A woman who asks if a dress makes her look fat often just wants to be hugged. But when someone calls or texts to say they’re running late they are often putting the fate, albeit often just temporarily, of the relationship, into the persons who is on time’s hands.

Because often the late one is waiting for a response. And one is left with how to respond. If you say that’s ok than you’re accepting that even though you worked out your busy schedule and made it on time then you may be setting a future precedence. But if you dare to give a sigh or a negative reaction you are almost certainly to be greeted with a huff and a puff plopping the insensitivity in your lap.

Now I don’t write this complaining about anyone in particular, I write this because of my fascination with we human beings reluctance to accept blame. We want to pass it off, deflect, reject and otherwise make someone else potentially responsible for our own shortcomings. It’s hard wired, I think, to keep us from being wracked with guilt and pre-occupied with our own inadequacies.

If not, we could go crazy, we would not sleep well any night…and we’d never meet anyone on time.

I’m late…



I’m late to write my blog and I don’t know what to write about. It’s 11:00am PST, way past when I like it to be published and I don’t have any topic in my head.

I usually do them the night before. But I was too busy. I was working. And now I’m having a Tigger day and I don’t know what to write about. A Tigger Day, for those that don’t know, is  a day where I’d rather be bouncing instead of sitting. And it’s not from coffee. I just tend to be very much like that on very beautiful day like today is. Now I know that people in the Midwest and East would scoff at anyone who would say any day isn’t beautiful in Southern California, but for us, and I know I’ve become a wuss based on my recent visit to Chicago, it’s been cold and dreary here this Winter. But not today. No not today. It’s 75, It’s sunny. And I know I want to play. I want to bounce.

I can’t of course, because I still have my web work to be done. But web work means I can stop and spin in my chair. Web work means I can have music playing and my leg can make restless leg syndrome look like the tortoise as I speed by it. I can get up and dance about to a particularly good song. And I do. I love to dance. I am the king of dancing like nobody’s looking. Cause nobody is.

So I’m late. I’m late. For a very important date. With WordPress and GoDaddy and HTML and CSS and my favorite client. And his website. And getting it working. And getting it looking beautiful. But I have to write my blog. I have been getting wonderful new followers and I’m grateful to all that have joined me, those here for the last year and those for the last day. I feel obliged to write something. I appreciate your reading. But I don’t know what to write about.

Oh wait, that’s 330 words. Bye.