moving right along

Not much to tell you but I have to move on from the gloomy last blog. Hit a bad patch there, some worries rearing up, c'est la vie. I make sure to include these things lest you think my life is all ... well, sunshine and roses. There is thunder and rain, there are thorns, there is fear and guilt and grief. But also, there is MOVING RIGHT ALONG. Comme ça...

Had a great conversation circle Wednesday - TEN women, more every week, it's wonderful. Again, a woman came in shrouded in cloth, sat for awhile without removing her veil, and I was concerned, how could we make cheery conversation with someone whose face was completely covered, even her eyes, with glasses? At last she removed her veil, to reveal a lovely, friendly, eager face, and she turned out to be the most interested in what we were talking about, asking questions about vocabulary, jumping in to contribute. It's thrilling to be in that room. In two weeks, Ashrafi has arranged an excursion to the Royal Ontario Museum; we're setting off by bus and streetcar, and will spend some hours at the ROM together. Now that will be an experience.

My friend Wendy, an ESL teacher, came over Wednesday to discuss ESL techniques and ideas, which was valuable, as Linda and I have no idea what we're doing. What we found out is that we're instinctively doing a lot of the right things, but Wendy suggested, for example, a whiteboard to write down hard words. Great idea.

Yesterday, a home class, seven women with nary a veil in sight except perhaps a veiled reference in their wonderful, vivid, accomplished writing. This morning, dragging Wayson to the Y to find him a personal trainer. He needs to move his body and stubbornly prefers not to. We're working on that.

An editor at a publishing house is reading a chapter of my memoir this weekend. I await the inevitable no, but can't resist a tiny glimmer of hope. And then I remind myself - J.K. Rowling was rejected many times. Not that that cheers me up at all.

The world is too much with us, so depressing, so utterly horrifying to see that hideous monstrous man stamping on our planet - and then Harvey Weinstein, depraved, appalling. Must think good thoughts. Must think good thoughts. Here's one:

Today my son is 33, and Wayson and I are going to his party tonight. There will be a lot of food and laughter and many young people. What a journey, my beloved boy, you crazy man. Thank you for being who you are.