Yesterday morning I turned my furnace on. That’s really early, but it was COLD – nine or ten degrees. I know, I’m a wimp. So sue me. The afternoons are warm but the mornings are not.
Last weekend was the Cabbagetown Festival; the weather was perfect, there was music on every corner and street food from every country on earth, the usual endless garage sales and the artists near the Farm — just fabulous. It was a shame Sunday morning I couldn’t participate in Blair’s Run, the 2 k. fundraising race through the ‘hood, which I’ve done for many years, but I went out to cheer on the participants, including a man running with his toddler in his arms, many children and many dogs. Just wonderful.
Below, Anna with her friend Cedar, a dancer on the Indigenous stage.
Tuesday was the first class of the U of T term. It starts at 6.30 on Zoom, and luckily by now I know the routine, because once again, by 6.20, there was no one on the screen and I wondered if there was a Zoom screw-up, but by 6.30, most of the students were safely ensconced in their little boxes and off we went. After over 30 years, I still love my job. Got a haircut and put on a jacket to look respectable.
Big things are happening, though — big decisions. As you know, after forty years here, I still also love my house. I spend my days sitting here looking out at the garden, at the long expanse of green; this tranquil view has saved my life, especially during Covid. I know many people in the ‘hood, and often when I leave the house end up chatting with one neighbour after another.
But reality has dawned. Dealing with this four-story house built in 1887, and its tenants, is not something I will be able to keep up forever. I can’t afford it, and I don’t think I’ll be physically capable of it as I age. Within the next four or five years, I probably need to sell the house and either buy or rent something smaller and more manageable.
It makes me sad to say so. My children grew up here. I grew up here. It’s an oasis of light and quiet. Where am I going to find somewhere else, not far from here, with green space, sun, and tranquillity? That’s the challenge. I will start to tell friends what I’ve decided and hope something comes through. In the meantime, there’s forty years accumulation of stuff to go through.
Did just write to my bank manager, however, about getting a home equity line of credit to give me a cushion — so maybe less urgency re the decisions. Changes. If I had limitless money, I’d find someone to live in the basement for a reduced rent who’d help me cope with the needs of the house and its participants. But I do not.
C’est la vie.
Other things: I’m editing the eight So True pieces for our show Sunday October 18. Wonderful stuff.
Watched a documentary about crypto – what a disgusting scam – and a very moving one about cystic fibrosis and the miracle drug that is prolonging lives. Hooray for medical science! On Friday Bill Maher, whose views on Israel and medical science I can’t stand but who interviews interesting people, had on an AI expert who told terrifying tales of the devious autonomy of the scheming chatbots. Truly we are sleepwalking to possible disaster.
My piece on falling was bought by the Star. I proudly made spaghetti sauce with my garden tomatoes, though secretly think, all that work and expense – fertilizer, soil etc. – to grow them when a can of tomatoes costs $3. Sigh. But a grower’s pride = priceless.
Two big fat peaches from the market left, the last luscious taste of summer.
Onward.
