Just got an email from Cousin George in Washington, D.C., including an article from the NYT and asking, “Is this true or just more hype?”
It’s a fabulous, very true piece by Francine Prose on the wonders of Toronto, barely mentioning our execrable mayor, celebrating our ethnic diversity, neighbourhoods and cuisine. Come, one and all! Especially Cousin George, who actually may venture north now that we’ve been praised in the NYT.
This morning, I Skyped with Booboo. He has had a haircut and looks like a little boy. All those glorious curls, gone. Glamma is sad. Time moves swiftly like a current etc. etc. Luckily, I’m going to see him later today – playtime and dinner with his grandfather, who’s also visiting from Washington, D.C. I’m glad the polar vortex is not keeping our esteemed southern visitors away.
Last night, a Runfit fundraiser at the Y – we raised $2500 and my body hurts today. But it was fun, and guess who came to speak to us before it started? Our premier Kathleen Wynn. I turned around and there she was, that warm smile and familiar face, and I just went right over and took her hands in mine and said, How good to see you. Don’t let the bastards get you down. And we laughed.
How lovely she is, Canada’s first openly gay – and married – premier, slight in her smart navy suit, pearls and beige high heels. She said she was sorry not to be wearing her running clothes, and I believed her. At the event, I met a young Francophone woman from Montreal, who came to study in Toronto intending to move back home, but loves the city so much, she has decided to stay. Tolerance, inclusion, diversity, thy name is T.O.
Let’s get rid of the hideous mayor and his hideous brother, and tear down the Gardiner and clean up the filthy snowdrifts and move on from this endless winter, and I’ll decide to stay too. Though I’ll force myself to spend a month in Europe first.