For your joy, today: Anna and the boys made these and put them in front of their building, where they can be seen by passersby on foot, in cars, in streetcars. So beautiful.
An hour ago I noticed that the forsythia in the front yard was in bud, ready to bloom, so got my secateurs and stepped onto my front porch. My neighbour’s little girl was just coming home with their dog Harley, whom I adore, so I greeted Harley and fell over. Simply toppled onto the porch, I guess tripping over my own feet. And thought, as I went down, NOT NOW YOU IDIOT!
Not hurt. Was concerned I might have sprained wrist or ankle – a bit sore but no, perhaps because I’m pretty spry for an old bird. Thank God. Can you imagine going to Emerg right now with a sprained ankle? You’d sit there for two days and end up not just with Covid but everything else that’s going. Be careful out there, folks.
I was feeling especially spry because I did Gina’s line dancing online, again. On the one hand, it’s absurd; it’s called LINE dancing because you’re in a line, not alone in your kitchen with your computer. On the other hand, why not? It’s dancing, there’s music, and I’m getting better, not totally two left feet any more. It’s an appointment in my calendar – 11 a.m. Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Something to hang onto.
Otherwise, I have no idea where the time goes. There’s a long list of things to watch – yes, I know, many have written to tell me about Unorthodox, I promise to watch soon, but first, James Corden at the National Theatre, when I can get there. What else am I doing? Had a session with a coaching client on Skype yesterday, a former student wanting advice on her writing. Went for a jogette and met several people, including a father from Anna’s high school days who works in sustainability – a very interesting discussion about how to change society, six feet apart, on the stairs at Riverdale Hill. I’ve bought a new printer and, with the help of my tech guy Matt on the phone, got it working. (I was furious my old one stopped working – “It’s only two years old!” I told Matt, remembering the trip to Staples with Wayson to buy it. And then found the bill. I bought it in 2013. Thus, time, when you’re my age.)
Celebrated neighbour Monique’s birthday with crémeux, apart on her deck in the chilly sun. Tonight, we’ll meet for aperitif as usual, my deck above hers.
Read Ben a bedtime story. God, it’s not the same through a cellphone, but then, nothing is the same, is it? Watched Sam Bee, broadcasting her show from a field somewhere. Watched something else that I don’t remember.
Mostly – a friend mentioned a small press in her neck of the woods, rural Ontario, she admires a lot, and I decided – to use a cliché – one last kick at the can. No, at the football – like the hapless Charley Brown, I’m going to try again and fall on my ass, once more, when the football is whisked away. So I’ve spent the last two days getting the ms. ready to submit for the last time, incorporating the edits friends have sent. Hope to send it out tonight and will continue in any case to prepare to self-publish.
I need things I usually buy at the farmer’s market – nuts, apples, eggs, coffee, bread. It opens tomorrow at 5. How early can I get there? Anna has forbidden me to go out; Doug Ford says the death toll in Ontario could reach between 3000 and 15,000 deaths. “Stay at home, woman!” she says. But I’m not 70 yet, and we’re allowed out once a week to get food, so I want to go. My daughter will not be pleased.
Have our roles switched already? Isn’t it a bit soon?
Here’s a slender vase of hope.