FYI – I have been told that the Toronto Star will run my piece on selling my car and riding a bike on the op-ed page tomorrow, Monday July 28. Four days later, on August 1st, it’s my 58th birthday. These things have nothing to do with each other, but there they are.
I’m still singing Beatles’s songs, folks. It’ll stop, but the songs have lived inside for so long, they are taking the opportunity to come out and dance.
People are complaining about this incredibly rainy summer. My poor daughter is at a cottage with the small children she looks after, improvising indoor activities. My son works at the outdoor restaurant on the island, where people won’t come if there’s even a threat of rain. But I love it, because the garden loves it. Now, 9 a.m. Sunday, it’s the most perfect, fresh, quiet, sunny morning. The huge lilies, marroon and white, are out, blasting the air with scent and colour. The jasmine on the deck is so sweet, it’s overpowering. Roses, hydrangea, tomatoes, thyme and basil, goldenglow, black-eyed Susans, echinacea, dahlias – thankful for the gift of free and constant water. And, apologies to my children, so am I.
Friday was a big day: the Goodwill on Parliament Street finally closed its doors forever. Most of the stuff disappeared last month, but people kept bringing donations and the staff kept putting them out, so right until the last day, I was still finding treasure, including a pink Celine Dion t-shirt that will thrill Anna’s best friend Holly, a Celine fanatic. On my desk now, my last purchase at this favourite store: a glass paperweight full of bubbles. How did they pour molten glass around bubbles? There’s symbol and metaphor here. On the last day, I took in a bag of cookies and cakes for the staff’s farewell party and took pictures and we all hugged. I started going regularly in 1991, and have been going daily for more than a decade. I’m joking that I’ll go into Goodwill withdrawal. But to tell you the truth, it’s a relief that this phase is over. My house is full. Enough already.
