getting wet

Note to self: next time a guest comes from overseas, program some down time for the poor creature. Penny and I have been doing so much, we're a tiny bit tired - and the travelling begins tomorrow. Busy!

Yesterday, we saw a matinee of "Wishful Drinking," Carrie Fisher's one woman show. I was especially interested, as a memoirist, in how this famous woman turned her life into drama. She is powerful and funny, and somehow manages, with spilling too much, to convey the madness of her childhood with father Eddie Fisher and mother Debbie Reynolds, and her various marriages including 12 years with Paul Simon, her alcoholism and other addictions and then her diagnosis of bipolar disorder. "And then I was invited ...," she says, "to a mental hospital. How many of you have been invited to a mental hospital?" She makes the dark stories amusing and yet truthful. Not easy.

Afterwards, Penny went home and I went to meet Barbara, my editor, who had read a draft of the memoir. We met at the cafe at TIFF, which was surrounded by police tape because another glass balcony had fallen off the building, as has been happening regularly in Toronto - all the balconies registering their displeasure at our mayor, no doubt. Anyway, our meeting went well - she had words of praise and words of counsel. And that's all I'll say, for now - except that I have lots of work to do, when I can get to it, which I am raring to do.

Today, as you've seen in the pix, Louise and Corey took us to Niagara Falls. We left at 7.30 a.m., got there just as the Maid of the Mist was starting so had no line up, ate a lovely lunch at Niagara on the Lake, and got back by 2, avoiding rush hour both ways. Pretty damn smart.

I think I've written about Louise and Corey before, how I urged her to look for the son she had given up for adoption when she was 16, and she did, and when they finally met, they were like twins. They offered to take me for lunch as a thank you; take me and my friend to Niagara Falls instead, I asked, and so they did. And they are like twins - it's amazing. After 47 years apart, they have known each other for one month and already finish each others' sentences. She told me how much she adores him and he told me how proud he is of her, how glad she is exactly who she is. What a great story. They're both crazy, of course; that goes without saying. But marvellous.

W*yson came over with a friend for a visit, and then Annie came for dinner, another British friend to meet Penny and tell her how horrible Canadian winters are without the right boots and down coat. I've been rushing around getting the house ready for our departure, compiling piles of train tickets and theatre tickets. My son is coming to catsit and water the garden - we leave for Stratford tomorrow, see a matinee as soon as we arrive, and then on Saturday see a lecture and two more shows, dinner both nights with our hosts Lani and Maurice. Back Sunday afternoon, one evening to get ready and then we're off again, to Montreal and Ottawa. Penny cannot accuse me of under-programming her stay.

This is what summers are for!

the fabulous Falls

My friend Louise and her son Corey - a long story - drove Penny and me to Niagara Falls today. Ho hum. All that water.

Happy mother and son reunion, with Penny and more water.

Even more water.

The maid of the mist

aging gracefully

A dull, grey, drizzly Wednesday - a welcome relief for human beings and gardens. There are three new plants out there - a lush dark purple buddleia from Penny, a hot pepper plant and a spectacular hibiscus from my son, dessert-plate-sized crimson blooms shouting, Look at me!

Yesterday Penny spent the day at the Royal Ontario Museum. She was surprised at how expensive admission was - $24! I guess that's how they're paying for the sharp shards of architecture looming over Bloor Street. So she decided to get her money's worth and enjoyed her visit, especially the First Nations exhibits. Whereas I went to look at a rock pile with my handyman John. Since the city ripped up my front yard for the water pipes, we have to rebuild, so John and I were looking at stones to use as building material. We had to choose between lavender and dark grey - who knew there were lavender stones? But there are. We're still deciding.

Spent the rest of the day clearing up after the party and responding to all the emails. The flood that came in from Facebook was a marvel - but many others too, including Chris in Vancouver who with his designer skills fashioned a card, a very goofy shot of him holding a lot of balloons. And I spent a lot of time thinking about the day, how being surrounded by loved ones is the best feeling in the world. And seeing friends who don't know each other become friends, and my children in the midst, hosting and cooking, at ease, vital, beautiful. I know, I'm a tiny bit biased. But they are the most beautiful human creatures on the face of the earth.

In the evening, before Jon Stewart, Penny and I watched "Britain from the air," a fascinating show about the people who keep track of air, sea and land traffic, about how electricity, sewage, and transport run on the island. There was a hilarious segment about the surge in electricity use nation-wide after the end of "The East-Enders" TV show - as a million kettles are plugged in for a cup of tea. It's a daily crisis for the man who is in charge of the delivery of electricity. That's my mum. Nothing that can't be solved with a cup of tea.

And what good news, in the midst of the absurd, heartbreaking wrangling in the U.S., to see Gabrielle Giffords alive and well.

I have to say that 61 is fabulous so far.

birthday sweets

One chocolate and one lemon - does it get better than this?

A best friend from childhood and a best friend from the last decade

Matt, one of my adopted sons, with Penny and a close blood relative

Another close blood relative with Kate and Kathleen

Some of the assembled multitudes, including the old bag herself

happy moi

7.30 a.m., August 1st, 2011. I am sitting on the deck, now 61. It's a holiday Monday, so quiet in downtown Toronto, it's almost like being in the country. Sparrows squawk, butterflies sail about, the raccoons, who dug holes in the grass overnight, are asleep, and I am drinking in this life, this Canadian life - garden, city, family, friends. Thanks to Facebook and the Internet, birthday greetings have arrived from Los Angeles, London, Provence, New Zealand, Belgium, and all over Canada. My children are coming to help cook, and some fifteen of the dearest people in the world will dine tonight on the pork now marinating in satay sauce (tons of peanut butter, mmm), on salmon and salads, and two Daniel et Daniel cakes waiting in the fridge.

In this family, we must mark every memorable event with large meals and many friends. Celebrate without food and wine and everyone we love? Impossible.

Penny and I watched a documentary on TV last night, about mothers coming to live with their adult daughters. It made clear that the complexities of this most fraught of relationships never abate, say I as a daughter to a mother and a mother to a daughter. Then we watched the new BBC series, "Zen" - fabulous escapism, Rufus Sewell as an Italian detective, the whole thing shot in the dusty gold light of Rome. And then I ploughed on in my current library book, "Let's take the long way home: a memoir of friendship," by Gail Caldwell, such a beautifully written, thoughtful, powerful book. It makes me want to rip up my memoir and start again.

Sigh.

It's the smell I can't get over as I sit here tapping on this lovely new machine in the silence - no, there's a cicada like a buzz saw - the smell, as I've rhapsodized before, of jasmine, lavender, mint, rosemary, basil. Oh, there's a fat raccoon meandering home - a late partier, strolling down my path and climbing straight up the ivy. Just he and I, the cicada and the sparrows and the smell of summer.

I wish a joyful August 1st 2011 to you all.