not quite like last year

This is what I wrote last year on my return from Paris:

SUNDAY, MAY 2, 2010

I heart Toronto in springtime

Toronto is gorgeous, and that's not something I say very often. I've come back into the heart of another springtime, trees flowering pink, white, yellow, forsythia, lilac, the magnolia about to burst - gladness, the only word, the whole city radiates gladness. Luckily, yesterday was grey and overcast, and today too - first because my tired eyes would hurt in sunlight, and second, because if it had been sunny I might just have collapsed with the loveliness of it all.

Ah well. We'll get there. Even the weather gods disapprove of this election. And anyway, May 2 is nearly 2 weeks away, and a lot may have changed by then. But the blooming will be late this year, that's for sure.

Two more words about why I'm glad to be home: peanut butter. Mmmm. Five New Yorker magazines waiting. My big kitchen with its shining microwave - there's no microwave in the kitchen in Paris. Ah, there goes a huge raccoon, climbing the fence to get back into the ivy - it's 7 a.m., I guess the night's roaming is over. My delicious daughter came over yesterday to eat cheese from Paris and to tell me about the big treat she has bought herself for her upcoming 30th birthday - a shiny new barbeque. Her very own self-starting barbeque. What a girl.

Friend Chris has hit a wall. After 3 days of walking over 20 k. a day with 35 pounds on his back, he has blisters, bursitis in one foot, and his shoulders are killing him. He is finally, in his sixties with major health issues, having to admit that his body won't do what he wants. So he is adapting his fundraising journey - will take the train to various centres and do long day hikes around them, piling up kilometres but not carrying anything. Lissen, I said, you had this brave, crazy, marvellous idea, one of hundreds in your life - you inspired many people, you made a try. No one wants you to be in pain.

Speaking of pain, yesterday, I printed what I'd written in Paris in a font I don't use and took it to the library to read, in an attempt to get an objective view. Well ... actually, I'm pleased. Yes, you've heard this before, but this time, I know it's definitely on the right path. Much more to be done, but there's a good core there. I'm happy. And I can tell you that the Parliament Street Library is the best place in Toronto for a parade of eccentrics and crazy people you won't see anywhere else, including an old cross-dresser in a badly fitting wig and a long pink skirt and giant holy running shoes.

My Toronto.