This could be a really really really long post about our truly wonderful family adventure on the West coast of Canada, but I am so pressed for time, having just returned from the truly wonderful adventure with all of the laundry / deficit of food in the house / soccer games upcoming this evening / unanswered emails that it will have to be a really really really short post.
In some ways, I wish we could always be on holiday. I don’t mean I wouldn’t work, because I love my work, and in fact work was a key part of this holiday — I appeared at the Sunshine Coast Festival to present on Girl Runner, and I wrote lots while away, too. I mean, our family would be together all the time, but without the pressure of the every day. We would no doubt bore of this … sleeping in, going for hikes and walks, playing beach volleyball in the ocean, eating out, doing very little in the way of cleaning or upkeep or chores … but it was sweet while it lasted, and I hadn’t tired of it yet.
I hope to post in greater detail soon. The photo above and the one at the top were taken in Vancouver, on an early morning run to Stanley Park. I kept stopping to take photos. It was that beautiful, and that out of norm, for me. Although, strange aside, several people I met while on the Sunshine Coast had been to Waterloo region, and recalled it as a most beautiful place; to which I replied … huh? Please don’t take this the wrong way, Waterloo. I mean, I’ve chosen to live here, not anywhere else on earth, and I love you for many reasons, but geographical features and natural beauty do not top my list. I’ve never been inspired to stop and snap a pic whilst running beside the railroad tracks through campus, for example. To compare:
I know, right? Ocean, sunrise, boats, mountains. Sigh.
Meanwhile, in bookish news:
* I’ll be appearing at the Chapters in Waterloo with The Candy Conspiracy on Saturday at 11AM (click link here for more details)
* It’s just been announced that I’m on the 2015 Journey Prize jury, along with Tanis Rideout and Anthony Da Sa (and it’s amusing to compare the descending head sizes on the official Journey Prize poster)
* Finally, I just opened a package from House of Anansi with the brand-new paperback edition of Girl Runner, including a guide for book clubs, with truly challenging questions (think you could answer them all?)
All for now.
Yesterday, picked up this tired little fellow from camp. Despite looking half-asleep at camp, he was very animated in the car, singing and recounting happy stories all the way home. My favourite was about how he and two cabin-mates had plotted out a three-book series (!!) about the mythical “Evil Octopus” that is said to live under the water trampoline in the camp pond, and a good but luckless character named Tamarack Tom. Could a writer-mother ask for anything more?
On the drive to camp, I listened to an interview with a young British woman, who was on the last leg of a five week North American tour: she’s a hip-hop artist, poet, and novelist — Kate Tempest. Somehow, at least temporarily, she restored my faith in the necessity — the importance — of performance. Her fresh enthusiasm was exactly what I needed to hear. She was so present and so thoughtful, dynamic, inventive, inspiring. I was inspired. Look it up, take a listen.
When we arrived home yesterday, our visitors were just arriving too: cousins for Canada Day!
The three other children had been home alone all day and the house was in a minor state of disaster, despite our newly assigned jobs and chores. How hard is it, really, to carry a dirty dish to the kitchen?
Anyway. Thankfully my sister-in-law is not fussy. But the dogs are also shedding at present. So I just vacuumed.
And I’m getting ready for another road trip yet this week (just me and the elder daughter).
Me and boy and tiger in “The Chub-Chub”
Since last Tuesday I’ve put over 1,000 kilometres on our little pod car, or “The Chub-Chub” as it has been nicknamed by the eldest son. So much car-sitting! My body couldn’t wait to move again. Last night I ran at AppleApple’s soccer practice and kept going and going and going. I knew if I stopped and stood by the field, the mosquitos would get me, and my legs were so happy to be running: I went 14.5 kilometres and it didn’t feel hard, which cheers me greatly, and makes me think I’ll be able to run the half-marathon when I go to Victoria this October (I’m a guest speaker at this fall’s Victoria marathon–have I told you that yet?). (How this fits with less is more, I have no idea, and it probably doesn’t, but there it is, and I’m excited, and excited too about the possibility of even more travel.)
In other exciting news: here is the cover of The Juliet Stories, as it will appear in the UK & Australia. Amazing, hey?
My meditation word right now is change. I’m restless, wondering, working hard, trying to tune in to what matters, my brain firing off in all directions, as I stand here on July 1st, amazed at what we managed in the month of June. It’s been quite the ride, with so many swoops and dives, long distance drives, and more soccer fields than I can count. Hang on, here’s summer.
All for now.
Oh yeah …
… it’s the last day of school!
A list of interruptions, on this, the first day of summer holidays:
– monitoring 1 disastrously neurotic dog’s behaviour while small friends are here to play all morning
– baking 2 strawberry rhubarb crisps (worth it!)
– finding the person who left wet towels all over the bathroom and reminding said person to pick up after said self
– 2 loads of laundry, washed and hung to dry
– morning snack for kids and friends, of marshmallows and graham crackers
– 1 dead bird discovered behind barbecue on back porch (+ 1 FYI text to Kevin and these timeless words: “Just don’t look at it. Dad will take care of it when he gets home.”)
– 1 teenager wondering what’s for lunch, when he can play video games, and why he has to take swim lessons this summer
– 1 box of macaroni and cheese
– the remains of lunch, all over the counters, including 1 pan in which 1 dill pickle was experimentally fried (“It basically tasted like a warm pickle.”)
– 1 lost key, needed for cat sitting purposes
– many many phone calls from friends and parents of friends
– 1 child requiring sunscreen application and opinions on swim suit choices
– 1 child requiring a thank you card which she could last-minutely turn into a birthday card, cleverly incorporating the words “thank you for your kindness”
– 1 child requiring a walk to a birthday party
– making a list in preparation for a girls’ night getaway
– fielding multiple logistical questions about scheduling, babysitting requirements, and plans for the afternoon
It’s 1:45PM and suddenly the house has gone quiet. I’m alone in my office. I’ve got about an hour and fifteen minutes to put to use. This reminds me of the olden days, when I struggled to string together enough coherent thoughts and unbroken minutes to make, say, half a poem, or a quarter of a short story. The key is to have a goal, even a small one, and a plan, and to stick with it when the quiet strikes.
And so, I’m off.
(But I do intend to write a follow-up post to my previous one, discussing the important distinction between being a writer and writing. It’s the former I’m wrestling with, not the latter. It’s not the act that I find problematic or difficult, but the acting.)
I’m in Bayfield at their writer’s festival tomorrow afternoon, where I will do my best to be a writer. Check my events page, above, if you’re interested in finding out more (about the event, that is; not about being a writer).
We’ve been on a whirlwind adventure, and now we’re home, with all the laundry that implies. I am trying to write this with a chatty 7-year-old nearby, who is missing out on his class’s field trip to the African Lion Safari due to an upset stomach (barfed on the bus, apparently; luckily this occurred before this bus had left the school grounds). So, yeah, we’re home.
Where have we been?
On Friday, I drove to Stratford to pick up AppleApple, who had been to see a play at the Stratford Festival (The Diary of Anne Frank). We had a bite to eat, then drove on through ominous weather to London, where she had a soccer game. So, here is another soccer field in my summer 2015 series.
Home, late. Exhausted. Weary.
Up, early. Packing for a variety of activities and adventures: everyone in the truck, and we’re off!
First stop: Innisfil, Ontario. Brand-new library. (Brand-new everything, from the looks of it; this is a fast-growing town.) Reading from Girl Runner. Kids had fun too. All good. Back in the car, headed down the highway.
Second stop: Seeley’s Bay, Ontario. Visiting Kevin’s family, cousin-time, playing soccer and badminton, sleeping soundly, sleeping in! (Fooey appeared at bedside to inquire “Why are you still in bed, Mom? It’s 9 o’clock!” And it was …) Kevin and I even went for a run together, and managed not to get overly competitive (there’s a reason we don’t play Scrabble anymore). Packed a lunch, then back in the truck, headed down some back roads.
Third stop: Brockville, Ontario. I interviewed the son of Myrtle Cook, who won gold in the 1928 Olympics. What a treat to hear his stories about his mother’s career, both as a young athlete and later as a sportswriter, the only woman in the section. The kids were generously welcomed by our hosts, and treated to a swim in a nearby pool, and cookies and juice. It reminded me of my own childhood, when our family was frequently hosted by kind strangers, so often that we almost took it for granted that we would be welcomed no matter where we went. Maybe I still carry a bit of that with me. (This was a two-way street: our family home was also open to strangers and friends alike, and I remember playing with any kid or set of kids who happened along; my siblings and I could mix in with anyone, boys, girls, older, younger, didn’t matter, by dusk you’d have to holler to get us to come inside, we’d be having so much fun. It was an advantage of a peripatetic childhood.) Interview over, we were back on the road, with some pits stops for supper … and bathroom breaks … and more bathroom breaks …
Bathroom break # 542
Fourth stop: Montreal, Quebec! We stayed near the Olympic Stadium for two nights, and went to a women’s world cup match: Canada v Netherlands (which ended in a 1-1 draw). There were 45,000 or so people in attendance, and the place was humming with energy. Such a fun game to watch: cheering, shouting, clapping, oohs and aahs, highs and lows, fresh-squeezed emotions. I do love live sporting events. While in Montreal, we wandered the neighbourhood, and found ice cream at a place with a banner that read: “Cremerie/Sushi.”
CJ at the Cremerie/Sushi spot
We rode the subway. Tried to walk to Mount Royal, but were defeated by a) the distance and b) more importantly, the whining about the distance. So we stopped for poutine instead. We found a bakery selling the most delicious Portuguese-style custard tarts, and visited a famous bagel shop. The kids swam, I went for a run in a beautiful park. It was a holiday. Everyone was so relaxed.
We arrived early. Very early. This makes it look like we were the only people in the stadium, but we were soon surrounded. In the excitement I forgot to take more photos.
And now, home. But despite the sick kid nearby, and the immensity of the laundry pile, I feel that holiday feeling lingering. It was hard to get packed up and leave, but once we were gone, it was easier and easier to be away, to imagine ourselves somewhere else, leaving everything behind. Not that we would, and we’ve got a lot to come back to; just that it’s possible to imagine escape and adventure when you’ve removed yourself from the physical trappings of home. It’s a kind of wonderful feeling, I must admit.
All for now.
It’s a PD day, which means the kids are home from school. This is a good test run for summer holidays, and reminds me that if I am to get any work done, I need a PLAN. People need to be put in charge of other people. Ground rules must be set on electronic use, and appropriate snacks, and lunchtime preparation, and clean-up. Ideas must be sketched out for healthy, fun, outdoor, active, creative activities. And all of this must be done in advance, before school lets out at the end of June. I’ve got about a month.
I’ll put it on a list somewhere. The kids are good. They’re older now. They play together. They know how to problem-solve. Some of them can cook. It’s going to be fine.
This has been a weird and wonderful week, and will culminate tomorrow with the launch party for The Candy Conspiracy. But first, our family is going to watch the Canadian women’s team play a friendly against England in the lead-up to the women’s World Cup: tonight! We’re all very excited. This is going to be the summer of family adventures, large and small, while the kids are at ages that make this both possible and fun, and this is our Kick-Off Event. We’ll also be travelling to Montreal to watch the Canadian women’s team play the Netherlands in a World Cup match, and in August we’re all flying out to Sechelt, B.C. where I’ll be reading at the Sunshine Coast’s Festival of the Written Arts. That’s a lot of travelling for our family, more than we’ve ever attempted. We’re home bodies. Plus, it’s really expensive to move six people around this vast country, not to mention feeding them and putting them up. I’m excited that we get to do it.
But that’s looking forward: planning. Planning occupies approximately 75% of my brain’s power. When I’m meditating, I frequently discover that my thoughts have drifted to planning mode. I push the reset button. Focus on the breath. And realize a few breaths later that I’m back to planning, list-making, calendar-imaging, email-composing. Ok, that’s okay, note it and move on. Breath. Breath. Breath.
I was writing about my weird and wonderful week, so let me circle back to a few examples. Example 1: I’ve done two kundalini yoga classes this week, and hope to continue through June. It answers a need. Kundalini yoga challenges me to think differently, to kick the darkness till the light bleeds in, to paraphrase a Bruce Cockburn song, as my teacher did in class yesterday. Example 2: On Wednesday morning, I did a radio interview after the kids were hustled out the door to school, and I got to request a song, so naturally, I went with Blondie’s The Tide Is High. Interview over, I turned on the radio and blasted the tune while dancing around the kitchen. Example 3: Yesterday evening, I put on orange tights, a nice dress, and earrings borrowed by Fooey, and with AppleApple along for the adventure, dipped my toe into partisan politics, by making a speech at an NDP rally. AppleApple, who is already an astutely politically engaged kid, was over the moon: Tom Mulcair shook my hand!, she kept saying, to anyone who would listen. (Fooey’s response: “Who?” Not everyone in this family reads the newspaper quite so avidly.) So, yeah. Amidst the usual busy routine, I’m opening different doors, and welcoming unexpected challenges.
My mom has a favourite phrase that I like: Who knows where this may lead?
Happy weekend, everyone.
Kevin has challenged me to take the day off.
So far what this looks like is me with unkempt hair and a cup of coffee staring at the wall, the newspaper, the computer screen, wandering around the house with an unopened book in my hand, walking up the street with a kid on a scooter, and talking to a few friends. I might go play the piano now.
Truly, I am tired. (So tired I just wrote “Truly, I am tried.” Maybe I’m that too.) How fortunate I am to have a day to take off.
PS Thanks for all of your comments and messages regarding Friday’s post. Your thoughts helped me greatly.
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