My new book “Midlife Solo” is now available.

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I’m down, as the Beatles say

Chilly, dark and pouring. I’m watching a very wet sparrow hawk on a branch of the cherry tree in the yard, grooming himself – plucking at his leg feathers – in the rain. I’m about to put on my rain gear to go to the post office and mail off another long essay to a writing competition. Good to have deadlines and specific goals, not just “a book, one day.”

My boss at U of T has just written to tell me he has asked two other writers to teach the Memoir component of the summer writing program, instead of me. They are both included in the Canada Reads competition this year for their memoirs, and so are famous and will attract lots of people to the program. It is 100% a sensible business decision and I understand perfectly why he has made it. Perhaps I’m feeling sad because of the gloomy day and the rain, and because it’s the tenth anniversary of sweet George Harrison’s death. Perhaps it’s because the essay I wrote was about a difficult time when I was very small. Perhaps it’s because Stephen Harper is about to renege on a commitment to the Kyoto Accord, and it’s devastating to consider what Canada represents now, in the world. And Ford has just released his budget, cutting transit routes and increasing the fare, cutting shelters. Cutting shelters.
Perhaps it’s because sometimes, it just feels right to be sad, because the world is a dark and difficult place.
Luckily, I had decided a few weeks ago to get a pedicure at Star Nails sometime. Today would be a really good day to soak my feet and emerge with bright red toes. And tonight, my friend Penny is coming over to sell her bead jewelry here at my place, because it’s more central than hers. Lots of women will come to drink wine and look at her lovely work, and my house will welcome them. On Sunday, during the guided meditation with Judy, she asked us to put ourselves in a place we love, where we are happy and comfortable. I jumped immediately to my kitchen and my deck, in summer, looking at the garden. How lucky, to love my home so much, my work so much. All this, and a crabby cat with white boots, too.

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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