Weekend report from the soccer/birthday trenches
almost eleven
I want nothing more than to write a big fat juicy post about our weekend. But I’m on a tight deadline. So here’s the quick and dirty version.
tournament
Soccer girl played six games in a tournament this weekend. Kev took the the first two days, and I went yesterday. That way we could manage to run errands, do some gardening, and not have to drag the other kids along. Her team finished with a bronze medal and a lot of happy faces.
Yesterday our eldest turned eleven. It was a good party, from what I hear. My great regret is that I spent virtually the entire day not with my eleven-year-old. AppleApple and I were off early for the tournament, and home later than expected. The party was already in full swing. I had just enough time to download photos from the various cameras I’m testing out before changing into soccer gear myself.
Off to play in the pouring rain! On a weird field with a wide strip of mulch and grass seed sweeping across it! Against a team of 19-year-old girls who had a coach and a full line of subs! (My team is, well, my age-ish, and had two subs.) I was tentative and terrified for the first ten minutes, but finally got my foot on the ball, and then it got better. There’s nothing like playing a new sport to make you feel out of shape, but I quickly figured out that I would recover from the sprints; thankfully, I have endurance. I badly need better ball-handling skills. And to hold my body differently against the big contact players. (I felt very very small, let me tell you.) But it was really fun.
eleven for real
And then I came home and spent some time snuggling my big eleven-year-old boy, who was feeling kind of sad that I’d missed his whole day. Me too. In fact, that feels like most my days right now — rushed and hurried and squeezed. Am I running on adrenalin? Will I wear myself out? What am I missing???
Onward.
Long long weekend
It’s a long weekend here in Canada, and oh, are we ever ready for it. The whole city seems ready for it. Late afternoon it suddenly got hot and everyone was in sandals and t-shirts and planning their escape. We won’t be escaping, but that’s okay. We’ve got a soccer tournament, gardens to plant, a big birthday to celebrate, and I’m playing in my first soccer game in twenty-seven years. (re soccer game: If all goes well, I’ll report back. If all goes humiliatingly, well, I’ll probably report back too.)
Hope to get some good photos of soccer girl and gardens and birthday. I’m borrowing some cameras for a story I’m writing. Curious to see how they perform.
But just now, I’m headed outside to pull laundry off the line. Happy weekend to all!
On readings, writings, and riding the big (metaphorical) waves
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| at the Starlight on Tuesday, photo credit Zara Rafferty |
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| photo credit Zara Rafferty |
No, I’m not a real surfer. But life feels a bit ocean-like these days, rolling, never steady. I spent yesterday in Toronto. It turned out that parking was easier to find than anticipated, so that bike never left the back of my vehicle. (Although parallel parking on Queen St. West at rush hour was an exciting opportunity to test my driving skills.)
Some fine moments from my day …
:: smiling at people passing on the sidewalk, some of whom seemed shocked to be making eye contact with a stranger
:: meeting another Snyder from Kitchener-Waterloo at Book City, and trying to piece together our geneological connection
:: eating Korean stew with my lovely little sister on Bloor street; and hanging out together, not in a rush at all
:: making an it’s-a-small-world connection with Daniel Griffin (who also read last night at Type)
:: mingling with the awesome crowd at Type Books before the reading, and putting faces to blog-names
:: being introduced by the lovely Kerry Clare
:: reading a story to a group of people who were really listening
:: getting teaching-creative-writing advice from Heather Birrell (who is a high school English teacher, and who also read last night)
:: finding all the dishes done when I got home
Some less-fine moments …
:: worrying about my dress
:: the chilly wind that swept Toronto all of yesterday
:: forgetting someone’s name during the book signing (AUGH! This happens virtually every time, and every time I curse my name-bank-blank-spot. This is how bad it is: I have literally blanked on the name of a family friend, known for twenty-five years, and seen on a regular basis. I don’t know how that’s even possible. And I hope it doesn’t indicate early onset dementia.)
But this is all to say: Life’s good. It’s messy and it’s good. It’s crazy and whirling and I couldn’t quite believe that I was up at 5am this morning for a spin/kettlebell class, and there’s dirt all over the basement, and I have a basket of laundry waiting to be hung, and no, I will never catch up on my emails — or, really, on anything at all, ever — but this is it. I wouldn’t want to be doing anything less. I love the doors open policy that brings five boys into my house on a Wednesday after school (and leaves behind sweaters not belonging to my kids; be sure to check our lost and found pile, parents). I love seeing my kids excited about moving dirt into new garden beds (yesterday’s major project, overseen by Kevin, bless him). I love lifting kettlebells over my head (is that too weird?). I love getting to read my stories out loud.
Keep the waves coming.
Reminder: reading tonight, Type Books, Toronto!
Just a quickie this morning, as I’m headed to the big city to do some work, meet my sister for coffee (I hope), sign some books, eat some supper, and read at Type, as it’s apparently affectionately referred to by those in the know. See poster for details. I’m also looking forward to the Q&A afterward with Kerry Clare.
I’m hoping to park somewhere relatively central and then bike around Toronto. Is that insane?? My bike fits in the back of our truck, and I’ve got a helmet and a good lock. Last time I went to Toronto, I ended up hiking all over and feeling very sweaty and late; I’m hoping that by cruising, even very slowly and cautiously, on my old junker of a bike, I will at least not be late. It looks like rain, however. Pray for me people.
Hope to see some friendly faces tonight.
(Last night’s event here in town was just lovely, met a ton of new people — lots of writers — and had some funny interactions with a slowly sinking microphone, which livened up my little set. And Heather B rolled with our family’s usual Tuesday afternoon chaos, bless her. And my soccer kids had great games, including a goal for the one who’s usually in net!)
Here’s a link to the review of Juliet in The Walrus, if you haven’t read it (and feel so inclined). I like how they call The Juliet Stories “Carrie Snyder’s new novel.” Which could be something we end up talking about tonight at the Short Story Shindig. What is this thing I’ve written anyway?
The morning is fleeing!
stop and drink the nectar
The morning is fleeing! I’m running out of time. Stop, Carrie, breathe for a moment. Drink the nectar.
Ahhh.
This afternoon, I’m hosting my literary friend Heather Birrell, with whom I will be reading tonight at The Starlight here in Waterloo. She’s been forewarned about the fact that somehow we’ve neglected to vacuum for, like, weeks, and that there are toys and papers and dishes and stuff on pretty much every horizontal surface, floors included, and she assures me that she’ll feel right at home amidst the chaos. Well, she’s got two young daughters. And a brand-new book. I think we’re good.
I want to tell you about her book. It’s called Mad Hope, and the title comes from a line in a pitch-perfect story, “Geraldine and Jerome,” which is set in the waiting room of a medical clinic and links up two unlikely-to-otherwise-meet-and-interact-characters. I happened to read it in the waiting room of a medical clinic (don’t worry, I’m fine). Be warned, if you’re planning to pick up this book and read it in public places: these stories will make you cry. Or maybe it’s just me.
I’m thrilled to say that Heather invited me to be an early reader of these stories, so I know exactly how damn good they are. And the book has been getting rave reviews all over the place. I’m going to get Heather to sign my copy today. You can too, if you happen to be in Waterloo and come out to the Starlight tonight; or in Toronto tomorrow, where we’ll be reading together again at Type Books.
And to add book news upon book news, my many-moons-ago boss, Noah Richler, has a new book out this spring too. It’s called What we talk about when we talk about war, and it’s about how our current government has been steadily distancing our country from its tradition of peacekeeping, preferring the warring nation metaphors instead. Noah will be in Waterloo on May 30th at the Laurier Centre for Military Strategic and Disarmament Studies. That just happens to be a free evening for me (!!), and I’m looking forward to hearing Noah speak. Join me? I’ll post more details closer to the date.
One last thing. Noah’s written a really lovely mini-review of The Juliet Stories, published on the 49th Shelf. In it, he talks about hiring me as an intern at the National Post, and his description of who I was then gave me a really lovely “how others see us” moment. Because who knows how others see us? (What I perpetually fear is that maybe I’d rather not know … it’s a personal hang-up. I need to get over that.)