December 13, 2012

Ten Years Ago

“It was ten years ago today that I met your Daddy,” I said.  “And then you had a baby, right?” said Harriet, eager to get to her favourite part of the story. (Harriet cries if we look at photographs and she’s not in them. The Harriet-less world does not interest her one bit, and sometimes I see her point.) “No, not right away,” I said. “We lived in England for awhile and we were poor and bored, and we slept on an inflatable bed that slowly deflated every night. We were just out of school, barely employable, and we had no idea how we were going to do anything we wanted to do. So we decided to move to Japan, that old last resort. We had an apartment there that was smaller than our kitchen, and one day Daddy bought me a desk so I could write. He carried it home on his bicycle. We decided to get married, so we went back to England to have our wedding.” “And then you had a baby, right?” said Harriet. “Not yet,” I said. “We moved to Toronto, and I went to graduate school. Daddy had to wait a year before he was able to work in Canada, and we had to shop at the Dufferin Mall No-Frills. Our budget was $50 a week. And every month we had $20 to spend on fun, so we went to Riverdale Farm often and we went out a lot for ice cream. And it wasn’t really that bad. I don’t know how we did it, and I couldn’t ever go back, but we learned a lot. Like to how to subsist on chickpeas.” “When do I come?” Harriet asked. I told her not quite yet. But we knew we wanted to have a baby, and so we moved to a new apartment where there would be room for our baby when she came. Our apartment used to feel enormous, but now it is brimful of bookshelves and tiny socks are scattered throughout every room. No amount of picking up the socks ever changes this reality. Harriet gets her sock-discarding affliction from her dad. I tell her, “We had a baby. And we liked you so much, we want to have another one.” She likes the story now. Harriet is looking forward to being a big sister, and what lies in store. And so are we, the great unknown. Which is terrifying, but also wonderful, and who ever could have foretold ten years ago what this extraordinary decade together would hold?

December 9, 2012

Very Good Days Have to Just Be Allowed to Happen

My holiday reading has started, and it’s so nice to be back with books on my own terms, reading solely for pleasure. I’ve read 2.25 books in the last four days, which is sort of lovely, yesterday in particular. And it occurs to me that you can’t really plan a good day. Certainly, you can collect them like they’re postcards (and oh, you should), but no amount of shrewd plotting can make a day truly magic.

I wouldn’t have even thought to request that yesterday’s weather be cold and dreary, or to think that there would be an up-side to Harriet waking up at 6:30 possessed by a demon. We had friends to brunch at 11:00 and we managed delicious and gluten-free, which is kind of amazing. Harriet was terrible, and by the end of the visit she was naked and throwing muffins across the kitchen in a rage. Thankfully I’d had enough rest and our friends had enough of a sense of humour that the whole thing was terribly hilarious. And as soon as they left, we threw Harriet into bed for that nap she was begging for and she stayed that way for three hours. (Harriet has stopped napping, for the most part. And now when naps arrive, they’re like a gift from the heavens.) I went to bed too and spent all afternoon rereading Comfort and Joy by India Knight. When Harriet got up, I still wasn’t finished, so I kept hiding from my family so I could get to the end, which was tricky because we live in a small apartment and the book kept making me laugh out-loud.

We were overjoyed to discover that Harriet’s nap had rendered her a human being again, and also that everyone in our family was equally inclined to not bother leaving the house. Except that we had to buy a Christmas tree, which was to have been the day’s main activity, but it was 6:00 by this point and dark outside. We went to get the tree anyway, carrying it home on our shoulder from the convenience store around the corner. Picked up Thai take-out to have before we hung the decorations up. We brought the tree home and unwrapped it to discover it was gorgeous, and so absolutely enormous that we’re going to be unable to remove it from the house after Christmas without causing major damage, but we’ll worry about that later. The whole house smells coniferous. And we decked our tree, rediscovering the fabulous decorations we’d forgotten we’d owned. And then Harriet was put to bed finally, the last of the pad-Thai eaten. And I settled in for the evening with Isabel Huggan’s You Never Know, which is so very wonderful.

The icing on the cake would have been not having to wake up every three hours all night long to pee, but that is too much for one woman to ask for. So I will content myself instead with the most accidentally perfect day.

November 4, 2012

Wild Writers in Waterloo

I took all the wrong pictures in Waterloo yesterday at the Wild Writers Festival. The pictures that I should have taken included one of a room full of about 30 students (with such friendly faces!) who’d turned out to listen to me talk about blogging for an hour and a bit; the Wild Women Writers panel with Miranda Hill, Alison Pick, Carrie Snyder and Kerry-Lee Powell, which was such a joy and inspiration to listen to; Miranda Hill’s book Sleeping Funny, which I had to buy because its author enchanted me; photos of all the people I know from online only and was so thrilled to meet in person finally; and pictures of The New Quarterly staff and their terrific volunteers who worked so hard to make things run smoothly and make the day so enjoyable for us.

The pictures I did take were of my gourmet lunch box, which I’d been ridiculously looking forward to and which surpassed all my expectations and then some. The box was massive, and the food was so so good. I also took a picture of (part of) the booksale table (by Words Worth Books), because they’d brought in Best Canadian Essays 2011 (with my essay in it!) and put it on display beside all the other festival presenters’. I am sure it sold like hotcakes, but yes, it was kind of the honour of my life to be a little old blogger up there beside some of Can-Lit’s finest. A thrill I will never, never forget.

Rumour has it that the event was a success, and they might put it on again next year. Here’s to the beginning of a fantastic literary tradition!

September 3, 2012

Summerlong

I’ve been trying to think of a way to write this post through a bookish prism, but we’ve had a busy long weekend and I’m so satisfyingly spent. So I’ll give it to you straight instead: we’ve had the most delightful summer. A summer that began in May when the glorious weather arrived. We had an excellent week with our UK grandparents in town, which involved all kinds of local fun. Harriet turned 3 with the grandest dinosaur party in recent memory. Our new friend Lilia was born, and so we’ve had regular treks down to Queen & Gladstone all summer long to visit her. We’ve had weekend roadtrips in our Fiat 500, when the sun was always shining and the sky was so so blue. In June, we celebrated my birthday, 7 years of marriage, and Father’s Day in one super-festive week. The best day out every to Toronto Island at the beginning of July, Harriet finally big enough that we can skip a nap or two and embrace a day in all its fullness. We spent a fantastic weekend in Peterborough, having much fun with more grandparents, enjoying in particular running through sprinklers and watching boats in the locks. Our cottage week away, so purely good, with so much reading, swimming, shoelessness, and being tuned out from the world. The next weekend, Stuart and I took off on a road trip of our own to watch our good friends get married and to delight in being a couple.

Oh, there have been the Kensington Market Saturday mornings, fun at Dufferin Grove Park, street festivals of all kinds, Trinity Bellwoods goodness, swimming at Christie Pits, wading pool hijinks, numerous Book City errands, brunches, lunches and dinners out, and deliciousness courtesy of the new barbeque we bought back in May. Little time between visits to Sweet Fantasies for ice cream. The joy of dinner on our beautiful porch. Pizza with tomatoes and basil from the garden, farmers market fare, fresh berries, strawberry picking with friends back in June, baking pie even though it’s hot, never ever running out of freezies.

What a delightful summer it has been, cruising the city sans stroller, that little hand in mine, and no longer having to worry about such things as diapers, baby-food, and sleeplessness. No drama, angst or fretting, well, except for when Harriet was terrible, but we don’t even worry about this so much. The weather has been glorious. It’s true, a few days that were ridiculously hot, but more days that were absolutely perfect. I’ve never seen so much blue sky. I was only ever bored at a playground a handful of times. We have had the most splendid company.

Harriet starts playschool this week, which makes this the first real September we’ve experienced in years. It also marks a real shift, out of the house first thing in the morning, and time for me to work while the sun is up, which is tremendously exciting. And while I am of quite mixed emotions about Harriet starting school, I find myself less troubled by the end of summer than I normally am. I am not sure why, except that perhaps we’ve just spent it so well.

We went to the CNE yesterday, a new tradition we started last year. It was a fantastic day, though we were so tired by the end that we could barely walk home from the subway station. And I like our new tradition, an occasion that makes the end of the summer something to look forward to. Or perhaps I just like having something to look forward to. Perpetually. I would make a terrible Buddhist.

Because while I know that living in the moment is what we should all be aspiring to, sometimes I wonder what’s so wrong with looking forward. Moments pass so quick, time doesn’t stop, so why not just give in to that, and there is always something wonderful coming up next anyway. And I wonder if the real trick is just to keep something wonderful coming up next anyway. But then that’s a trick that’s probably easiest to pull off in the summer.

August 12, 2012

Long Weekend

No post tonight as Pickle Me This is extending the weekend. We had just a little too much fun at the wedding of Rebecca Rosenblum and Mark Sampson, and three cups of tea and a late afternoon nap have done nothing to ease the post-party burden. So we will take to the bath with a copy of Emily Schultz’ The Blondes, which is so wonderful. And in the meantime, check out the wedding cake– with books on top! A most fitting cake for this literary duo, and my goodness, did they ever throw a party. It was a fantastic event, and only the beginning of a really delightful, inspiring, happy tale they’ll make together. So happy to be a supporting character. So happy for them both. xo

June 14, 2012

A Page From the Wonders…

This is the book I bought tonight in celebration of the Literary Press Group having their funding restored— Stephanie Bolster’s A Page From the Wonders of Life on Earth. The news was a surprise, and I’m only one of many readers who are overjoyed. You should be too, and your reading life will be better for this news, even if you don’t know it yet. And if you’d like to have a celebration of your own, I’d recommend any of the ones I mentioned in my original post, and also Sheree Fitch’s extraordinary new picture book Night Sky Wheel Ride, which Harriet shouts along to when we read it to her. Please also read Sheree’s gorgeous post on LPG funding and I dare you not to be moved.

May 15, 2012

Malarky Giveaway. Because you really have to read it.

I have this problem wherever books are being sold, I always think it’s kind of rude not to buy one. So this is how I ended up in possession of a spare copy of Anakana Schofield’s Malarky after attending her book launch tonight. Her reading was wonderful, the novel’s opening and its most terrible, hilarious, devastating sex-scene. I love this book so very much, and I’m not the only one– over here, the book is celebrated by the likes of Lynn Coady, Annabel Lyon, Jenny Diski and ME (which is the best crowd I’ve ever hung out in). Malarky has been chosen as one of Barnes and Noble’s Summer 2012 Discover Great New Writers selections.

“If Hagar Shipley met Stella Gibbons…” is how I called it in my review. “Malarky is a journey beyond the limits of love, an equally sad and hilarious portrait of motherhood.” I finished with, “This is a book that will leave you demanding more of everything else you read.” And it has.

So now I’d like to send you a copy. Leave a comment below before Saturday for a chance to picked in a draw, postage paid by me because I want you to read it this much. And yes, of course, the book is autographed.

UPDATE: And the winner is Julia, whose comment number was randomly selected by a toddler from a sunhat. And now the rest of you should track down copies of your own. You won’t be sorry.

March 22, 2012

A splendid day

“Albert collected good days the way other people collected coins, or sets of postcards.”– Behind the Scenes at the Museum

Oh, we’ve had a good day. Sunshine , popsicles and a brilliant morning in the park with wonderful friends, after which Harriet went straight to nap without lunch (at her own request) and slept for 3 hours. And then we headed down to Queen Street West to Type Books where Kyo Maclear was launching Virginia Wolf and her novel Stray Love, which made it the perfect mother/daughter occasion. The event was great, with snacks (pocky!), music (Waterloo Sunset!), and company (my best friend, Jennie!, who took our picture). It was also nice to meet Kyo Maclear, whose work I’ve admired for a long time. And then Harriet and I took the streetcar home, which was fabulous because transit is Harriet’s favourite part of being alive, and the driver on the Bathurst Streetcar rang his bell for us! Also exciting, I thought, was that the entire Queen St. W. area smelled like farm, which was curious, yes, but mostly importantly, which Harriet recognized before I did, and how wonderful that my streetcar-riding city girl knows what just what a farm smells like.

March 1, 2012

A cool thing

A cool thing that happened lately was discovering bloggers at The Book Mine Set and Perogies & Gyoza reading my short story “Georgia Coffee Star”. They both had lovely things to say about my story, and urged other readers to check it out. How lovely to see one’s work alive in the world, and to learn that readers are enjoying it. It means a lot to me.

November 6, 2011

My favourite day of the year

It really is my favourite day of the year, this one with 25 hours in it. It meant that this morning we could get up and be lazy, and still be at the AGO for their 10:00 opening. And that it was ROM Members Day at the AGO meant that we got in free, which meant no fretting about getting one’s money’s worth, and that we could hang out in the gallery for an hour or so, and then retire to the cafe (and this, plus the lazy mornings, are exactly how we roll). Then this afternoon, I spent four hours working on tomorrow’s Giller Prize post for Canadian Bookshelf, and by the time I was finished, it was dark outside. And though I love summer madly and despair the winter days, I do love those dark evenings with my family tucked inside our house, the lights a golden glow. Particularly because we had wine leftover from last night’s dinner with friends, and it was delicious. (As had been the dinner itself, meat lasagna from Tessa Kiros’ Apples for Jam, the cookbook that never fails). The overall goodness of the day only underlined by the glorious weather, sunshine so warm that I didn’t even need to wear my new hat (but I did anyway, because I made it myself. I have the biggest head in the universe). And that tomorrow we’ll wake up at 7:00, and it finally won’ t be dark out.

• Check out my friend Nathalie’s time-change blog post, Got An Extra Hour? Read Books With Clocks.