plans in winter

Yesterday, as I stood waiting for the bus on Parliament Street, the vicious cold cut into me though I was wearing my 50's mink coat, scarf, thick mitts, hat, boots and many layers underneath. Next to me, a shivering man in jacket and shoes. "I hope we remember this in July," he laughed, "when we're complaining about the heat." Now there's a Canadian. Even in the face of this desperately bitter winter - cheerful!

Almost record-breaking cold and snow. Not quite - there have been worse winters. But few. An endurance test. You need to be tough to be Canadian. Except if you're from the West coast, where the daffodils are out. Pussies.

In the midst of the bleak winds of winter - "Heartbeat of Home," a glorious explosion of music and dance, of which my ex-husband is a producer. Kind man that he is, he gave me four complementary tickets - house seats, the best in the theatre - to take my beloved friend and handyman John and his wife and nine-year old daughter to see the show. Last year I gave John tickets to "War Horse" as a Christmas present; he wept all the way through. So now that's our thing - show tickets for Christmas. We loved the joyful stomps and Irish, Latin and African beat of this show. Especially in February.

On Tuesday evening there was a Zumba fundraiser at the Y. I had every intention of going, but the wind, the cold, my warm hearth … Anyway, I was working, one last go-through of the manuscript. The final draft of the book is now complete; I've received a print sample from the publisher's designer, which I love, and the cover is nearly done. I joked to a friend that the book was stuck in the birth canal. "Your book is born," she said. "It's in an incubator getting warm and will be out in the world soon." Yes. Yes yes yes.

So instead of Zumba, I'll go to the Runfit fundraiser at the Y tonight. This weekend, my ex is in town; we're spending all day tomorrow en famille. Haven't seen my booballoo for far too long.

And I'm gearing up for departure. On Wednesday March 19, that is, in less than 3 weeks, I fly to Paris. I have a holdover of a few hours and go on to Montpellier, to spend the weekend with Lynn and Denis. On Monday, March 24 I get the train to Paris, to my wonderful apartment in the Latin Quarter for nearly two weeks. And then on to Italy. I'll tell you more anon.

"Escape From Winter." My next book. Below: from the Could be Worse department.