Just so you don’t think I’m in a permanent funk, dear blog readers, I’m here to tell you I had a GREAT DAY! Up really early again and a full morning of work with real progress on the rewrite of the memoir. I think I’ve broken the logjam, which is big news. I hope. Perhaps not, I’ll need to get someone else to look at it at some point, but for now, it feels like something is working.
I know, I’ve said that before.
My dear Lani wrote me the sweetest note, urging me not to burn out and insisting I come visit and sit in the quiet of their small town home. I will try to get there. I did feel close to burnout, it’s true, just deeply irritated and ready to fly off the handle. But today, more equilibrium.
Oh, and a lovely note from my piano teacher, Peter Mose:
I was at the TSO to hear Beethoven’s 9th led by Peter Oundjian in his departing concerts as music director. A fellow seated one row in front of me was reading your book on memoir writing before the concert, and it had all sorts of underlining and highlighted passages! I couldn’t resist bending over and chatting with him. He was singing your praises from a class at the UT.
Now that’s an image I like, my writing book and Beethoven. A tenuous connection, but a connection nonetheless.
The bad news is that my attached neighbours have bought some kind of outdoor sound system. I managed to sit outside today with earplugs. Maybe they’ll get tired of it. The good news is that the cucumbers are enormous, the beans are thriving, the raspberries are delicious, and the kale is taking over.
I’m off first thing tomorrow to see Do in hospital in Ottawa. She also is in a better mood and seems to be looking forward to my visit, even if she’d rather I don’t stay at her place and steal all her valuable stuff, as I will certainly do.
No, I understand, she has had some pretty bad days herself, much worse than mine, stuck in hospital and in pain. She has much more right to be crabby than I.
Carol will be here watering and bringing in the newspapers. Maybe I should tell her to throw them away.
Below, the story of my life …
