robins galore

You know who is really enjoying life, as humans withdraw? Robins. Huge fat robins everywhere, beaks stuffed with nesting material and worms. My guess is a bumper crop of robins this year.

Just now my tenant, whose name happens to be Robin, was in his office, aka the spare room, as I headed to my office, aka my office, and he asked if I had a nice Easter. What to say? Sure. I ate down to the midriff of my solid chocolate bunny. Made a big chicken stew using my last veggies and stuff from the freezer. We did our first family Zoom meeting - my kids in their separate Parkdale apartments, their father in Washington D.C., and me, the little boys popping in and out, amazed to see all those faces on the screen at once. Amazed for a second or two, but then off outside for more exertion. Anna spoke wistfully of a friend with 2 little girls who love to sit and read. Sigh.

Last night, the usual Sunday overload on TV with a difficult choice - Call the Midwife or the last episode of Prime Suspect. I chose Jane Tennison, to watch her battle alcoholism and her usual mistakes, as she alienated her family and befriended a tough young girl who turned out ... I won't say, in case you get to see it. People have been asking about it; if you have Rogers, they've given us free movie channels 487, 8 and 9, for now. Some good stuff there. I started to watch a new drama on PBS but in the first five minutes there was a ghastly murder and then another, so I turned it off. Not in the mood for Romanian psychopaths. Instead watched some of a remarkable 3-hour doc on TVO - a boat cruising the Rideau Canal from start to finish, no voices, just scenery and birds with an occasional animation of how that section looked 100 or more years ago. Lovely and tranquil, much needed.

Though I can imagine my kids saying, "You watched WHAT?!"

And then not tranquil - John Oliver. The way these hosts have simply kept going from their living rooms with almost no staff - admirable.

Today is exciting; I received the edits from my editor, friend, and former student Christopher Cameron, a very fine writer himself. He is extremely picky about things, which is just what you want in an editor, even if occasionally I am a little bit miffed by his notes. I was SURE that was right, and it turns out it was not. Or, occasionally, it was. We debate things like should capital letters in French have an accent, did e.e. cummings actually want his name in lower case, and other issues riveting only to writers and their editors.

And so, to work, on this mild, drizzly day. May you all be safe and well with lots of worms and nesting material, wherever you are.