A star is born.

Opera is a marvel — those tiny people making that enormous sound. But the Sunday matinee of Verdi's Macbeth gave us an extra treat. When we heard the soprano singing Lady Macbeth was sick and the lady-in-waiting was substituting, we all groaned inwardly. And then she opened her mouth and blasted us all to kingdom come. Tracy Cantin was spectacular, a gorgeous voice. Very lucky to have seen and heard her big moment. 

My favourite seats, the singles along the side, where you can see the orchestra as well as the stage. 

But it was a lovely day and a very unpleasant story, so I left at intermission to get across town for Anna's Mother's Day barbecue. How have she and I arranged things that we end up doing all the work on Mother's Day? That's how it is — first it was me and now it's her. Fun, as always. There was much baseball. 

Anna told me a horrifying story about a new disgusting word: simp. It is used by males to insult other males who are nice to women. Eli has a friend at school who's a girl, and a group of boys gathered to taunt him as a simp. He came home in tears. He's ten, eleven on Sunday.

Again, it's as if these last few years, the incredibly vile words and behaviour of Trump and his party have ripped off the bandaid of civility from our world. Hatred of women, minorities, the Other — the rise of actual Fascism — who could have predicted these hideous things would return with a vengeance? 

Sunday night's Succession was almost unbearable to watch, a Fox "news" type debacle of corruption and greed. Powerful, horrible television. I'll be glued to it next Sunday, again, because my theatre school colleague Harriet is appearing as the mother of three of the appalling Roys.  

On another note, Monday was the anniversary — the yahrzeit — of the death of one of my oldest friends, former actress, poet, and editor Patsy Ludwick. She had ALS and chose the date and time of her death at her home on Gabriola Island: May 15 at 11 a.m. Everything was organized and arranged. It was surreal to be in Toronto at 2 my time and know that at one moment my friend was there in the world and the next moment, she was not. Much missed, dearest Tudwell (my nickname for her, for a reason neither of us remembered.)

2018.

The days are lovely but last night was really cold, had to bring all the plants in from the deck. There's a reason the rule says no planting till May 24. The weekend will be busy.