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Olympic gold

Do I care about the Olympics? Not at all. Did I rush to watch the TV news about the day’s record-breaking Canadian wins? You bet I did. Today, Canada is on top for the medal count – seven! On top! The most medals of any country in the world, at least today! OMG, that makes me happy.

Why? I have no idea; there is no sense in that. I don’t care about the Olympics, and yet I care a lot. There you go. NO sense. Can’t help but notice that almost all the medal winners are Quebecois. Once upon a time, they would not have been Canadian at all. But now they are, they’re ours, they’re winners, and all I can say is – WOO HOO!

On the other hand, I called a mobile vet today, a man with a wonderfully thick Russian accent who does euthanasia at home. Our last beloved old cat, Snoozy, died in my arms, thanks to a vet who made euthanasia house calls, and the time is coming again. The crabby cat, who’s 13 or 14, has a huge growth on her paw that keeps splitting open and bleeding, and she’s eating poorly. She has had it, I think, and might be in pain. It’s an odd thing to be able to make life and death decisions for another living creature, but my long-term vet concurs with this decision. I’ve written to my kids that it’s time to come and say goodbye. And in the meantime, she snoozes in her usual comfortable spot on the kitchen sofa, where she spends 23 3/4 hours a day.

Just watched Star reporter Robyn Doolittle on Jon Stewart, pushing her book about the insane Fords. Jon was very sweet, extolling Canadian politeness, decency and conscience – though of course, that “decency” is what has led us to leave this idiot man free to rampage for years. I just heard an excerpt on the news of the Rob and Doug Ford YouTube show, in which Doug asked his little brother why he lied about substance abuse. And what followed is a master class in bald-faced lying with a slightly indignant, self-righteous tone. The man is a master of deceit. Grotesque, and fascinating.

And – a major American football player has just come out as gay. Football. What a brave man.

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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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