Paul and Obama and Jon's beard - scream

BIG NEWS - Jon Stewart has a beard! The world is agog. He looks very distinguished. Mind you, he would be adorable with snakes growing from his head.

Tonight, speaking of adorable, I watched Paul McCartney receive his award from President Obama on PBS. Two of the most glorious men in the world, sitting side by side. You can imagine me, the pile of mush, watching Obama grinning at his little girls as Paul launched into "Michelle" - the First Lady and the President swaying and singing along. Stevie Wonder, Elvis Costello, Emmylou Harris (who was especially fine) and many others sang Paul's songs, and Jerry Seinfeld, who almost seemed nervous, spoke.

But the best was when the man himself was on stage, with his trusty band. He has never looked better, this nearly-seventy year old rocker. Listening to "Eleanor Rigby," I thought, this is a great work of art, a timeless song that will last forever. Stunning.

Paul was wearing a wedding ring. Hmmm. His girl Nancy was there beside him, looking very pretty (well, maybe the skirt was a little short), and beside her, two good-looking elderly people who perhaps were her parents. How nice for Paul, since his own parents are dead, to have some substitutes. And his children all there, sitting behind the President.

And me, loving, as always, from afar.

The party countdown begins. Today spent all morning finishing up the garden. This evening, Christopher and Cristina arrived from London - my hosts, in their tiny flat near Carnaby Street, when I'm in their city. They're going to Niagara Falls tomorrow, while I run around beginning to stockpile groceries. Friday, I'm renting my AutoShare car and Anna and I will buy hundreds of dollars worth of food and begin the marathon of cooking, and my mum and her sister will arrive, and some of the others. Old friends have been feting me already - my local Lynn arrived with bubbly and peanut butter, my staples, and Suzette had me over for dinner. Anna called today to check in about the music, which she and her DJ friend are compiling. Sam's restaurant has hired someone to replace him on Sunday so he can get away.

Always make sure everyone in your world knows it's your birthday and they have to be really, really nice to you.

And finally - I received a reply from Loblaw's to my complaint about the lack of local produce.

... Aside from the harmful environmental effects of transporting produce over long distances, Loblaws recognizes the importance of supporting the businesses of Canadian Farmers. These are only two of the reasons why we are committed to sourcing from Canada whenever possible. That being said, there are times when local growers, for various reasons, simply cannot fulfill our demands and we have to look outside of Canada for supply.

At least they wrote back - though it's generic and meaningless. I wonder what the "various reasons" are that they could not stock Canadian strawberries or leeks a few days ago. Why does the common noun "farmers" have a capital letter? Is "sourcing" an actual verb? Wouldn't "meet" be a better verb than "fulfill"?

I'll ask the spokeswoman to meet with me to discuss my edit of her letter. And serve her extremely fresh local produce while we work.

unseating Harper, from sea to shining sea

They're sprouting like wildflowers - new citizen's campaigns to get rid of Stephen Harper. I already belong to two: the wonderful "Can this onion ring get more votes than Stephen Harper"? and "Canadians rallying to unseat Stephen Harper." Now there's another, at "Catch22campaign.ca." How amazing that a man can provoke such a level of dislike and distrust and continue to rule. The long form census - who would ever have known one tiny thing about it, until the man arbitrarily tried to get rid of it? Because of his deeply conservative, libertarian principles, says Michael Valpy in the "Globe." Big Brother is going to find out everything about you via the long form census and then suck out your brain. And then take away all your guns, leaving you defenceless against the Communist and/or alien hoards.

Wait a minute - what year is this?

Let's dump the bastard! I urge you to join one of these fun groups. Michael Moore would be proud of these democratic Canadian movements. I'm sure Michael Moore IS proud.

I was a citizen activist yesterday, there at my local No Frills. Once again, in the produce department, almost all I could find were fruits and veggies from California and Mexico - at the end of July, in a city surrounded by lush farms. So this time, I spoke to the produce manager, who said he understood but there was nothing he could do, I should speak to the store manager, who said he understood but there was nothing he could do, I should write to Loblaw's - because every decision is made in head office. So I went home with a basket of Canadian peaches like hard rubber balls and wrote to the head office; am waiting for a reply. In the meantime, the peaches have ripened in just a day and are delicious.

The garden is sublime. Last year, my friend Lynn asked me if I enjoyed gardening and I said, not really. What was I, out of my mind? Perhaps it's because I was in her garden in France eating cheese, instead of in my garden in Cabbagetown, eating Canadian peaches. Every moment spent back there amid green and growing things, even if I'm battling black spot and slugs chewing leaves into lace, is bliss.

A dilemma this morning - I was about to sweep a cobweb out of my front window - quite a big one in the upper left hand corner - when I caught sight not only of the spider but of two big white egg sacs. She's a mother, a single mother just trying to make a living until her million babies hatch. Now I need someone to come and trap and carefully move Charlotte and her precious sacs to a better spot. Outside. But safe. Volunteers, please?

E.B. White, this is all your fault.

This is the last week I will write to you in my fifties. I am very busy for a decrepit 59-year old, and am looking forward to being even busier as a decrepit 60-year old. Not long now before the boom falls. Soon my kids will move me, like Charlotte, out onto an ice floe to fend for myself.

in my life, I loved you more

What a day - heavy, dark, humidity 200% and then the rain, non-stop downpour in the gloom. Made me feel heavy and sad too. I have been enjoying a link my brother sent me to a site that has every song the Beatles ever made, with a commentary on who wrote it and how it was written. With headphones on, going through that catalogue has been bliss. The harmonies! The tunefulness and energy. Today I listened to "In my life," one of the loveliest songs ever written, and tears poured down, like the day.

Then to cheer up (ha), I watched "Capitalism: a love story," Michael Moore's latest. You know, it's easy to dismiss his lumbering style and some of his antics, but he's an amazing man whom I admire greatly, and this is a superb film making some vital points. How is it possible that the American Department of the Treasury is run by honchos from the big banks? He takes us back to the original villain, Reagan, whose policies in favour of the rich began the slide into the abyss.

By contrast, he shows Franklin D. Roosevelt's speech about a second bill of rights, guaranteeing every American a home, an education, a job at decent pay - but the man died before it could be passed. The film takes us through one incomprehensible injustice after another, particularly how the bank bail-out was masterminded and shoved through Congress with no demand for accountability from the banks, at the same time as millions of people were being driven from their homes. Several high-ranking members of the Catholic church support him on camera, saying that capitalism is directly opposed to the teachings of Christ; that capitalism is evil. His point is that it's the opposite of democracy. And then he show us how right he is.

Moore has always presented an unrealistically rosy picture of social justice in Canada. I hope he'll come and make a movie about how all that has changed under Stephen Harper.

And then my beloved W*yson came over with my latest essay. Let's just say, as usual ... back to the drawing board. I'm closer, yes. There's good stuff. But I'm still, he points out, writing an essay, not a story - summarizing, not recreating. "Did writing this make you flinch?" he asked. Well ... not exactly. Not good enough, he says.

"Is it truthful, challenging, disturbing, inspiring, unique, heart-shaking, intensely felt? If none of these, RETHINK, REWRITE, RECREATE," he wrote.

Got it. More flinching.

But first, I think I'll listen to "In my life" again, and cry.

it's workshop time again, folks!

WRITE IN THE GARDEN:

A one-day writing workshop.

Inspiration, structure and support for those with lots of writing experience and for those with none.

Spend a day learning to trust your voice and tell your stories. Listen to your creative self. Gain confidence and perspective from contact with other writers. Write in the garden and enjoy positive feedback, bushy perennials and lunch.

Who: Writer and teacher Beth Kaplan has taught personal narrative writing at Ryerson for 16 years and at U of T for 4.

When: Sunday August 22, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Cost: $125, including food for thought and actual food.

Where: Beth’s garden in Cabbagetown, in downtown Toronto. If there’s rain, inside the house.

Laughter, camaraderie and insight guaranteed.

For more information - www.bethkaplan.ca/coaching

To register – beth@bethkaplan.ca

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Here is a letter sent after a previous workshop:

“Dear Beth: I’d like to express my deep appreciation to you for making July 13 such a memorable day.

You have a special gift for creating a safe learning environment and for supporting all of our efforts. You seem to have an endless well of positive things to say without ever passing judgement.

It was a joy to be there with you and the others. Your garden is magical, and you created a magical day for me. Thank you very much. Ann C.”

The blog book is here!!

How can you tell you're a writer? If, like me, you open your junk email page and find a subject heading that reads, "PERMANENT LARGE SIZE PEN..." with the end of the word cut off, and you think wow, I wonder how big that pen is, you know you're a writer.

You also know you're a hapless member of the literati if you read about a new porn website and can't wait to get home to check it out. I did, today, and it made my heart race with lust. Check it out: www.bookshelfporn.com. Mmmm. I've never seen anything as desire-inducing as what's on those pages. Stacked. Tall and loaded. And some so well hung ... on the wall.

And finally, it helps that writerly feeling if you can hold a brand new book with your name on it. My blog book arrived today!!! It's beautiful! I will take and upload a picture of my new baby so you can see it too.

This amazing and wonderful book, 212 pages of deliciousness, is available for $20 plus postage - I'll have to figure out what that is but not much - from the writer. Who is moi. It's got lots of practical and inspirational stuff about the journey and business of writing, including quotes from Wayson Choy. The rest, for better or worse, is the writer, moi, and her epic life, with pictures. On Page 198, there's even some bookshelf porn. Yes, all this for $20! Special deal: buy two for your friends, and get 3 for $54. A steal!

(Am I getting good at this marketing business? It's exhausting, all those exclamation marks.)

Get it while it's fresh and hot!!!! Okay, enough.

Please contact me here via this blog or better, via the email address on this website: beth@bethkaplan.ca. I'll put your book in the mail and wait for your big fat cheque.

And now, excuse me - I have to look for a PERMANENT LARGE SIZE PEN so I can sign it for you.