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Le Patin Libre – glorious

My son called today. He went to my house for a bit of r and r, cooked a meal and was about to put some bread in the toaster when, he said, a mouse jumped out. Of the toaster. I knew there was a mouse but not one quite that bold.

I am sick. I know, I can hear Lani – how can you be sick again, after pneumonia in the winter? Why do you get sick so often?! ! It’s the cold I’ve been battling that finally, perhaps after yesterday’s festivities, moved into my lungs to roost. Yesterday, after several fine days, was cold and rainy. I went to the Y, not to exercise but to sit in the hot tub and the sauna and to have a long hot shower. Went to my dear friend Margaret’s for dinner, where I glad to meet again her son Will, who is getting married in two weeks. Long ago, Margaret and I were pregnant with our first children together, I with Anna and she with Will. And now they’re in their mid-thirties and Margaret and I are … just as youthful as ever, yes we are. I love going to her house, where a warm fire, last night, was burning.

Then I went to the Britannia Ice Rink, which perhaps was not the best place for someone incubating a cold.

I was the guest of my friend Nettie to a fabulous show put on by a Quebecois troupe, Le Patin Libre – the Free Skate. And free they are, incredible skaters who dance, run, jump, soar, head straight for the audience at 40 kmh and then swerve at the last minute … For the second half, we were actually sitting on chairs on the ice, there was a fog machine, and these five stunning athletes flew out of the fog directly at us. It was breathtaking. Check them out:

Marvellous. But cold.

Today, a sore throat, a Tallulah Bankhead voice, and no energy. So, taking it easy and cancelling my trip to visit Patsy on Gabriola Island tomorrow. I have to go to Vancouver Island Tuesday, I’ve prepaid for a room, so must be well by then. But today, lunch with my friend Tara, and that’s it.

Friday was sunny and beautiful. Chris and I had a walkabout downtown in the afternoon, and then he came to pick me up in the evening; he’d brought homemade chocolate cake, and we parked by the water to eat it at dusk, in the car. Then we went to see “The Piano Teacher,” a new play, flawed but very worthy, especially the lead character, the piano teacher, talking about the healing power of music and actually playing. It made me think about my own complex relationship with the piano.

Lying on Bruce’s sofa, I can see the boats going up and down, the new bright green of the trees, the vast sky, his tulips in the harsh wind. Grateful that though I’m not home, I’m safe and warm. Onward.



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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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