My new book “Midlife Solo” is now available.

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hot and happy

By early afternoon Saturday I was melting, dripping in sweat; so hot, only water could cool me down. Remembered the beautiful free community swimming pool a three minute bike ride away that I never use, found their schedule – the Women Only swim was about to begin. Hopped on the bike and there I was, immersed in cool water. It’s designed so Muslim women can swim; blinds cover all the windows and only female lifeguards are allowed. Even so, many women wear long pants, long-sleeved tops, and hijabs to swim, but they are were and so was I. Delicious. 

And yesterday, after two days of heavy rain much needed by the garden, it was lovely again. Anna, the boys, the two other kids she has looked after for a friend all summer, and I went to Annie’s house near the beach for the perfect summer day, joined by Annie’s daughter Mia with her two. Lunch, swimming in Lake Ontario, playing in sand, playing in the playground, and at the end, of course, ice cream cones for six children and four adults. Delicious. I am not big on swimming, but on a hot day, there’s nothing like it. 

At one point the kids were discussing age, including how old I am. They opined that I was so old, I was born in the eighties. No, I replied, in 1950. Their jaws dropped. Like, with the Titanic! said Ben, who adores all things Titanic. 


Anna told me she had to have “the sex talk” with the boys because Ben asked about the difference between “sex, sexy, and sexism.” He said he’d been told that sex was when a man’s intestines go inside a woman’s intestines. I’m sure Anna handled this with her usual tact and grace.

I finished Season 4 of Borgen, a superb series about how power corrupts, how hard it is to survive in politics and remain a decent human being. No kidding – in despair about the next four years with our ghastly, disastrous, corrupt provincial government, destroying health care and education and building new highways. Stop, blood pressure rising. 

Made peach/rhubarb crumble with garden rhubarb. Getting writing done, editing for others. Invited to a “Protecting Pollinators” seminar by a group called Bees for Peace.

Otherwise, drifting through August picking tomatoes and cukes, pruning, watering, going for evening walks. It’ll get busy again soon, but for now – heaven.

Last Saturday, the market featured a riot of zinneas.

Here’s a wise man speaking wisdom:

Hanging framed upstairs is a letter from Bertrand Russell to my dad, about their mutual struggles for peace. In ’62 Russell was asked by Osward Mosley, the leader of the British Fascist movement, to debate. This is the letter he sent in return. A masterpiece. 

Good writing can save the world. Or at least try. 



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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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