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upstairs

Bliss! My dear Belgian tenants are away until Monday night, up north skiing in a high wind, and I am in my kitchen as I like to be on Saturday nights, dancing to Randy Bachman. He’s paying tribute to dead musicians, and I’ve just had a little weep listening to John Lennon, “If I fell” and “Day in the Life,” then a great dance to a bunch of Elvis, and now it’s Marvin Gaye and “Let’s Get it On.” What a sublime classic. Imagine – shot by his own father.

And all of this above ground.

A crazy day, with winds 100 mph plus, trees downed and transit interrupted. But all calm over here. It was “Megathon” fundraising day at the Y, so I paid $50 to take a zumba class with my favourite teacher, Edgar. Edgar, who’s Mexican, is the most joyful dance instructor. As the world beat music plays, he flings his body around with a huge grin, and a roomful of clumsy Torontonians – well, many not as clumsy as THIS Torontonian, that’s for sure – try to follow. Great fun. After an hour, I was ready to collapse, especially as I’d had a tough half hour class with multiple lunges and squats the day before. God, I love that place. On the way out, I swung into the Health Room they’d set up for the day, where they gave me a big zucchini muffin, and I put on all the calories I’d just lost.
And then, when I got home, I got to put my own key into my own front door and walk in. As if I owned the place. Which I sort of do, I and the Royal Bank of Canada. And then found out that the furnace isn’t working properly. Luckily I have a space heater, which is right beside me as I write. Hopefully the repair guy will reply to my message. Luckily this happened now, while the tenants are away.
El gato crabbo is curled up nearby. She is following me around this house, up and down. It does make me feel needed and loved, even if this bad-tempered creature knows nothing about love. Maybe she does, a tiny bit. That’s enough.
Whitney. “I wanna dance with somebody.” RIP. And now Sam Cooke. “You send me.” Thank you so much, Randy Bachman. I really feel like I’m home.

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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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