My new book “Midlife Solo” is now available.

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Zelensky for the Nobel peace prize or some *&#$^ prize

60 Minutes featured an interview with Zelensky on Sunday. Never in my lifetime have I encountered a politician or leader I’d call noble, but it’s the word for him: articulate, clear-eyed, courageous, decent, yet capable of power and anger. Noble. This Jewish comedian is the very definition of a mensch. How many are there, on the world stage? Jacinda Ardern is a mensch. We’ll see about our own Chrystia Freeland, who has exhibited menschy qualities but hasn’t been tested yet. Macron, Biden, and Trudeau are decent men with bits of menschness but nothing, nothing like Zelensky. 

All fingers crossed for the next round of the French elections. God help us if a fascist is elected there. 

It’s the most stunning day of the year so far, even better than yesterday. But there’s an unfortunate issue to interfere with my pleasure. Yesterday I was up at 7, drinking a tranquil cup of coffee, when at 7.05 there was such a violent noise, I thought the Russians had given up on Ukraine and were attacking Sackville Street. No, it was a giant cherry picker arriving in the condo courtyard only a few metres south of me. The units are having all their many windows replaced, which means hacking out the old ones with drills and hammers and inserting the new ones, with the picker constantly beeping up and down. The noise was infernal. I gardened anyway, for two hours, with earplugs, because it was too beautiful not to.

But I did write to the condo people, suggesting that in future, it’d be nice if they’d let neighbours know before extensive noisy work begins. They apologized, and today it’s a bit better. I can’t stay in and work, it’s too gorgeous, so I’ve been out doing yard cleanup again, with earplugs. Life in the big city. And in comparison with what’s going on in the rest of the world, I’m embarrassed to complain. But you know me. Complain I do.

My fingernails are filthy. It must be spring. 

I have lost my dear handyman, who’s been my right hand here for more than a decade, an invaluable help with everything, including hauling heavy bags of birdseed and advising me on insurance and many other issues. My home is filled with his creative solutions to the problems of an old house. His lovely wife, who was also a good friend and liked to give me her delicious jams which still fill my fridge, is, it turns out, not only a fierce anti-vaxxer but a conspiracy theorist, Bill Gates implanting chips, it’s all a plot by Big Pharma, support the nice peaceful truckers etc. I tried not to bring it up but eventually we had an exchange via email, and that was that, they’re not speaking to me. Makes me sad to lose good friends for such a foolish reason. This pandemic has wreaked havoc in many ways. 

So I need a new handyman, Toronto people. Please let me know if you have a candidate. Preferably one who believes in science and can put up with a crabby old lady. My need is great. 

Today’s smile: I just got my income tax forms back from my friend the accountant. My income as a writer for 2021 was minus $4109.16. Good thing I’m not writing for the money, just for the many perks, especially the fame and adulation. Especially the adulation. Bring it on. Adulate away.

I leave you with this photograph of my children doing something weird on the deck with a cow cutout behind them, in about 1991. I try to remember that time, but cannot. Luckily there are diaries. Or maybe unluckily. These two were a force of nature. How I survived them, I’m not sure. 



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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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