Friday, July 29, 2022

summer pleasures

Well, the Pope sort of came through and sort of didn't. Or majorly didn't. But it was a start, a big start at acknowledging the hideous harm done by the Catholic church to Indigenous peoples and especially children.

Speaking of starts, something interesting: I wrote a story during my garden workshop and decided to keeping working on it. It turned into an 1100-word essay about my mother's obsession with antique English silver spoons, and I decided to send it to the First Person section at the Globe. In the 90s and early 2000s, scores of my essays appeared in that section, then called Facts and Arguments, but when they stopped paying a measly $100, I stopped sending work in. (And recently turned all those essays into a book, now out looking hungrily for a publisher.)

But that Globe space is still one of the best venues for personal essay in this country, so what the hell, I sent it, and two days later they took it, it'll run end of August or early September. That was fast! If only publishers worked as quickly.

A busy week. Janet, the friend of a friend, lives in Quebec and wanted to visit Toronto, so she rented my spare room for five days. And now she's my friend, too - a most interesting woman, an immigration lawyer with thousands of incredible stories. Yesterday, a particularly lovely evening, she suggested we go out to the Beach and stroll on the boardwalk. That's the kind of thing you can easily do when you have a car. It was heaven.

Wednesday, crisis across town - Eli not well, Ben at day camp, Anna had to go to work. So I spent the day with Eli. We played Scrabble and other games, and he'd take a break and play video games, but mostly, I read him The Christmas Pig, by J.K. Rowling. I gave it to him nearly two years ago; we get so little time together, we were still only halfway through, and it's really too young for him now, his mother is reading him The Hunger Games! So I decided it was time, we needed to finish. She's a master storyteller, that writer, should go far. 

When Anna got home at 9 I was hoarse and still reading, but we did it. And sometimes, he put his head on my shoulder as I read. 

Had to rip out the bean plants today - loads of growth and flowers, not one single bean. But picked my first yellow zucchini, and the tomatoes are exploding. Started to cook for my birthday dinner on Monday: pesto and tabbouleh, with basil, mint, and parsley from the garden.  Summertime, and the living is delicious.


  1. So pleased to hear about your silver spoon essay. Will look for it. And reading with children -- a privilege.
    Theresa (who can't sign in as herself because there's a message saying Invalid website)

    1. Who can understand these ridiculous sites? I'm glad you're still there, Theresa, even if anonymous!