Getting to the point I get to before every trip, with lists and fussing and worrying — dealing with house-sitters and cat-sitters, getting the house ready for other people, ashamed of my chaos …. I assume it’s easier to travel with someone who shares the anxiety, the deadlines for departure, the possibility of being stranded en route or not understanding what the hell is going on.

I’ll get through. I leave Thursday evening, land 10 a.m. Friday; Lynn arrives by train from the south at 11. We have rented a two-bedroom Airbnb on the eastern end of Paris. The adventure begins. I just have to get on that plane. Have said that before.

Went to the protest, not huge but solid, and freezing — trying to make a dent in this hideous provincial government. This is a sign from years ago, recycled, because the problem has re-emerged, far worse than before.

Had a huge treat last week: dinner at Tara’s favourite restaurant, Rodney’s Oyster House, to celebrate David’s ninetieth birthday. 90, full of vigour and idealism, body and soul. Many oysters were consumed, much discouraging talk about the state of the planet. And then Tara’s flight plans were changed and she spent two days and a night here. I love my house to be a sanctuary for those in need.

I introduced Tara to my ideal Sunday night watching: 60 Minutes, Call the Midwife, The Pitt, and Rooster. I taped John Oliver to watch another day. Terrific TV, all the shows different and engaging. When I played her Macca’s new song, The Days We Left Behind, we both cried. It’s a beaut. Of course. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2n1IhyF6R0U

I finished The Correspondent and loved it, as does everyone else; it has thousands of holds at the library. A gradual, skilful unpeeling of the story with a wonderful payoff at the end — very good writing. So encouraging she had SEVEN unsuccessful novels before this one. I’m wondering about an epistolary take on my own stories and am digging up more letters. Stay tuned.

I also just finished Leaving Home, a memoir by Mark Haddon, author of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. His memoir, full of his artwork, is a blisteringly honest take on his cold, distant parents and his own struggles with depression and breakdowns. I liked it very much. And it’s set in Northampton, where my own British story began, with both sides of my mother’s family from there.

I mentioned Julio Torres last time and do recommend finding him if you can — his comedy special Color Theories is unlike anything else you’ve ever seen. Eccentric, but clever and wise. You will never look at dark blue the same way again. And a new Ken Burns doc on PBS about Henry David Thoreau, another of the world’s great eccentrics, only 44 when he died, leaving an indelible ecological legacy. Reminded me of Helen Humphrey’s beautiful Followed by the Lark, about his life.

Not long ago, I received a note from an editor at a British scientific publishing house. I checked, of course — the name, her email address, and the organization were real. She’d read Midlife Solo, she wrote, and …

I was impressed by the unique narrative voice and the clear vision you have for your “heart-filled,” insightful, and humor-laced storytelling.

I would be very interested to learn more about your current and forthcoming projects, including any new essays or instructional guides following the success of True to Life, as well as whether you are represented by a literary agent. Given your extensive background teaching memoir at the university level and your early career as a professional actress, I would be particularly interested in your perspective on how “personal narrative” serves as a sociological bridge for women navigating midlife transitions and the psychological impact of documenting family legacies. If you have representation, I am happy to coordinate through them; otherwise, I can outline how our process typically works.

Subject to reviewing additional material, there may be scope for a broader discussion regarding potential fit within our contemporary sociology, history, and media-focused publishing programs.

Convincing, no? I wrote back, and she replied, very keen to move forward. But this time something about her note struck me as odd — the number of times she used quote marks. I went back to the organization’s website and found another email address for her, wrote saying I was sorry if her note to me was legit but I needed to check. She replied immediately: it was not her. I’d been targeted by spam.

Honestly, why would someone bother, in such detail? What could they possibly hope to gain from me? It boggles the mind. There are some tough things going on in my life right now, but being spammed is not one of them. So far. But ye gods, this one was close.

My son made a beautiful painting of birch trees in fall for me, for my belated Xmas present. And I have just booked entry to the Prado Museum in Madrid for Sunday April 19. Onward and upward. Arriba y adelante!