40 days and nights

All summer long, no rain. Now that there is urgent roof work to be done, a solid week of rain is predicted, including torrential downpours today. Let us give praise for one of God's great wonders - tarpaulins. My bedroom wall has been demolished, rebuilt, reshingled and closed up. Now for the ceiling - we await the roof guy Sunday and the termite guy Monday. It's possible that my kitchen ceiling will have to be smashed too, to further my delight.

BUT - my mother is out of hospital and back at her new home at Amica! Amazing. She sounded joyful if vague. Overheard today, at the Y, one woman telling another, "I'm a mess today. My mother just died."
"I understand. Mine died twelve years ago," said the other, "and I'm still dealing with it."
All to come. NOT YET.

Eli and his mother are in Vernon, B.C., for a family wedding, and the little man continues his campaign of charm and seduction. His B.C. great-grandmother considers him "the sweetest and most attentive baby" she has ever met. There you have it, from someone, like me, completely objective and cool. Anna just texted me a photo of her boy on his first boat ride, right now. What a surprise - he's laughing.

I was interviewed yesterday by Bill Gladstone of the "Canadian Jewish News," in honour of the paperback. Bill's rave review at the time of the book's original release meant a great deal, back then; it was good to tell him how much in person. He is a big fan of the book, and a fine piano player to boot.

Ah, I can hear the cat puking. Reality. I recently saw a watch, apparently designed by Julian Lennon. On the face, just the word "NOW." Every time you look at your watch, it says, "NOW." I'd like that watch.

P.S. In the interests of research, I have just watched Peter Sellers performing the Beatles' "She Loves You" as Dr. Strangelove, an upperclass twit ("She loves you, Nigel,") a Cockney ("She luvs ya, Bert,") and an Irishman. And "A Hard Day's Night" as Laurence Olivier as Richard III. It's all on YouTube. Wondrous.