My new book “Midlife Solo” is now available.

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Call the Midwife: sob! And Shelter.

It’s possible the stressful tenant situation has begun to be resolved. My stomach was heaving again today, until about an hour ago. But I won’t hold my breath until I’m sure.

Let it be so.

Last night, Call the Midwife – and as usual, I wept. I mean, they showed us a baby born with a terminal heart condition, not to mention the on-going plot points, the good-hearted handyman with his Down’s Syndrome son who’s one of the stars, the sweet nun midwives and the sweet not nun midwives, the final tableau of all the recently delivered babies arrayed on a blanket, and in the middle, placed carefully in a pot of flowers, a picture of the dead baby.

It’s not maudlin, though it may sound so, just very real. But still, every week, Heidi Thomas the writer makes me – makes all of us, I’m sure – cry.

And then the second season of the terrific TVO show, First Contact, about a group of ordinary Canadians who have prejudices and preconceptions about Indigenous people being taken into First Nations homes and communities to meet individuals and hear their stories. It’s superb.

It’s destination television, at 9 on Sundays. My tech guru Brad wrote to say, why don’t I show you how to access the shows you want to watch on HBO and Crave so you can watch them whenever you want? But I don’t want to watch them whenever. With a few exceptions, like a few things on Netflix, if a show I want to see is on Sunday at 9, that’s when I’ll sit down and watch it. I won’t sit down at 3 on Monday afternoon, it just doesn’t occur to me, and so I just won’t get to it. That’s the kind of dinosaur I am.

I think things are different for couples; they need to find things they can do together, like watching shows whenever. But I am happier reading – these days, too much online rather than books or mags, but still, the solitary act of reading – than tuning in to something that aired 6 weeks ago.

Tonight, the finale of My Brilliant Friend, which has been renewed for another season. On Mondays at 10.

My friend Julia sent me this: Shelter. Beautiful. Dancers. She’s a former student who just had a great piece in the Globe about the importance, especially now, of birds.

Today, I finally started work. That is, not editing and teaching, not running this complicated house and garden, not keeping up with friends and family and the world, but writing work. IT’S ABOUT TIME, a mere 7 weeks into this thing. But everyone is saying, cut yourself some slack. It’s stressful. Yes, it is, and I the lucky landlady had a little bit extra just to keep me on my toes.

But it’s spring, and today another heavenly day. Here, from today’s walk by the Necropolis, an amazing magnolia:

And here, Anna’s 39th birthday party, the usual feast only with a small, select crowd, including Sam and friend Nicole. It’s Eli’s birthday in 3 weeks, and I want to be there. I need to hug those boys. Or at least sit 6 feet away and gaze. A destination birthday.



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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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