Thinkingdog Publishing

A little while ago, Canada did what Canada does best and unleashed a truly horrible snowstorm. Not the polite, fluffy kind. No, this was the kind of snow that comes at you sideways, stings your face, and makes you question every life choice that led you outdoors. Blueberry the Papillon took one look at the situation and said absolutely not. And honestly? Same. She stood at the door like a tiny, dramatic statue of protest. No paw over the threshold. No curious sniff. No brave dash. Just a look that said, “I did not sign up for this nonsense.” Judging by the complete lack of footprints outside our front door, it seemed the rest of the neighborhood had reached the same conclusion. Draw your own conclusions from that. Eventually, cabin fever won. We all piled into the big car, mostly just to escape the walls closing in and remind ourselves that the outside world still existed. And that’s when we saw it. A young man. Doing push-ups. In front of a bar. On the sidewalk. Duri...

Why I Escape to a Cabin With No Wifi (And Maybe You Should Too) So… why do I disappear into the wilds of the canadian North with no Wi-Fi, questionable plumbing, and a fridge that sounds like it’s crying at night? Because it’s the only place I actually relax. Yes, I know, you can technically relax anywhere. A spa, a beach, your own backyard hammock with a pink drink and a book about Scandinavian murders. But here’s the catch: I don’t. When I have ten minutes of peace in my regular life, my brain goes, “Oooh, time to spiral!” Suddenly I’m obsessing over Chapter 4 and why it still reads like it was written by a caffeinated octopus. Or I remember that the audio edits on my last audiobook were a smidge less than perfect, and maybe I should recheck that pause at the 47-minute mark. And by the way, did I ever respond to that email about the email about the podcast interview? I don’t relax. I rev . Blame it on my upbringing. I grew up in a German household, and let me tell you, asking...