jam

Perfect, just perfect, today, yesterday - mild and sunny. I'm grateful for my very pregnant daughter that it's not too hot. The breeze is a lifesaver.

Last night, the last class of term for my Thursday group, our potluck readathon - a delicious dinner on the deck with a glass or two of Prosecco - is there any better drink for a summer night? - and then they read one gorgeous moving beautifully written story after another. Very proud, I am. One more class to go, Ryerson next week, and then I'm done teaching till September, except for my garden workshop in August. I love my job, but it's also good to get a break. As Jon Stewart knows.

Speaking of Jon - once more, may I mention my love and respect for him? As his days count down, he is more and more frank and open about the appalling Republicans, more openly furious about various idiocies. It's a joy to watch, particularly because we know that soon, he'll have a well-deserved rest. Except - I hope before long he's back in some way. Because I can't imagine life without his wisdom, his humour, his counsel. That a man with such a goofy, sometimes sophomoric sense of humour should have such gravitas - wondrous.

My summer playground and writer's retreat:

Today's crop.

I know, for those from warmer climes, this ain't much - but we haven't had much hot weather here yet. My raspberry bush is a miracle - I took a cutting from my mother's enormous raspberry patch (oh her jam! how I miss her jam!) in Edmonton in about 1993 and planted it here, but it never did much. Last year, moved it to another spot - and whammo! I go down twice a day to pick and eat.

Finally - in the boring old person department - I'm dealing with something odd. I'm my usual bouncy self during the day, but at night, I've developed back pain so severe that it keeps me awake and at times gasping out loud, as jolts of electricity course through my back. Very weird - because I have no other symptoms and am fine during the day, it's just at night it hits. Since Monday. I'm having a massage tomorrow and will see my doctor next week if it doesn't get better. Believe me, I immediately thought - heart attack! Lung cancer! Please let me live long enough to see my grandsons grow up!

Probably just the disintegration that comes with turning 65. Or I need a new mattress. In any case: phooey.

I see in today's Star that there's a not-to-be-missed concert at the aptly-named Hard Luck Bar this weekend: a band called Goatwhore, celebrating the release of their latest album, "Constricting Rage of the Merciless." Gosh, that sounds like fun. Can't wait.