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Love and Hot Dogs

By Carissa Tobin

FRI MAR 26, 2021

This morning, I found Wolfy on the kitchen counter eating a hot dog out of a bowl. It made me smile.

That's a tomato on Wolfy's head.
That's a tomato on Wolfy's head.

I've been wanting to write something lately. But what do I say? That we've been at this a year now? That at first I found a small win every day but petered out after a couple months? That hate crimes are on the rise, leaving children without parents? That what I thought were weeds when we moved in last summer turned out to be irises, now sprouting up through the mulch? That Axel is wondering if we need more mulch (Wendall, please weigh in)?

Today Governor Walz said that Minnesota is going to let everyone sixteen and up get vaccinated. Hope is on the horizon, it seems. Of course, Little L is nowhere near getting her driver's license or her vaccine, just like many of your little ones. That worries different parents to different degrees.

So I guess we just take it all in. Be kind to ourselves and to the ones we're sick of seeing in the same darn clothes every day (I've been wearing a blue knit union cap in the house since October). The hope, the worry, the exhaustion, injustice, disconnection and the way the Earth keeps circling around the sun. The irises and the weeds.

Good thing I was too lazy to pull what I thought were weeds.
Good thing I was too lazy to pull what I thought were weeds.

Someday, Little L will not be concerned about Wolfy's sustenance. But today she is, and I don't move Wolfy when I tidy the kitchen.

For some reason, that bowl of breakfast hot dog feels a lot like love.