October 24th, 2022

Two Cemeteries and a Wedding

One of my oldest friends got married yesterday and I was delighted to stand for her. The whole run-up to the wedding–meeting everyone, planning the bridal tea, any tiny conversation I got to have about it–have been a real dream. I get that long-married people can be kind of a drag about “why don’t you want to get marrieeeeeeed???” and I try never to do that–there are so many ways to have an excellent life and marriage is going to be a big problem (imho) for anyone who doesn’t enter into it not just willingly but thrillingly. But I personally love being married so much and it has been an excellent experience for me personally, so I can’t help but be overjoyed when I see people I care about choosing this path as well.

Yesterday was the warmest, sunniest October day maybe ever. Mark said he read a headline that the fall leaves are extra bright and colourful this year but didn’t read the article so why don’t know why–but that certainly tracks with our drive down from Toronto to my hometown. It took just under two hours with traffic, but we left four hours just in case (it’s a WEDDING, plus we don’t rent cars very often) so went out to lunch at Dennigers, my parents old favourite German food place, and then went to the cemetery to see my dad. The big municipal cemetery looked spacious and gorgeous under the bright sun–there’s still wide open areas with no occupants–and I felt so wildly happy running across the grass to get some water for the flowers, thinking of the miserable muddy February of his funeral and how far we’ve come. When I got back, I announced to the stone monument, “J is getting married today,” because I knew he would have been happy to hear it, and then promptly felt the sting of tears. How strange it is to be so old, and not live in that town anymore, and not to have my father alive. I don’t think I will ever stop being surprised.

We went to the church, and were still very early so we went around back to yet another cemetery. Mark and I walk in old churchyards all the time–we like the history and to gather stories from the inscriptions and we just find them peaceful. This was a lovely old churchyard with flame-bright maples and some stones going back before 1900, but it was pretty much the only one I’ve been to where I kept coming across people I knew, including one old friend of the family who I hadn’t known had died. It was very a melancholy walk. Sometimes I feel pretty disconnected from my hometown but really, I lived there a long time and knew a lot of people.

By the time my friend M and her family arrived, I was really really ready for some fun society, so we went in and got dressed and put on makeup and ran around trying to find everything and everyone. This was the church of my youth, the one at the foot of my road that many of my friends went to–we always went to the spaghetti dinners there and yard sales, our 4-H meetings were there and my piano recitals–I did everything there but actual worship. There is now a lovely modern addition but the main part of the church and the basement looked just as I recalled. I even sat where I remembered for spaghetti suppers and felt there should be pie. And that I should be there with my parents.

The wedding was SO WONDERFUL. I just felt so HAPPY for their happiness. J was as kind and thoughtful as she always is but I could tell she was nervous until the vows were said and the rings were on and then, when we were signing the registry and she could stand chatting and joking with her HUSBAND they were both light as air–that felt so right. The service was really good and interesting too–it was the kind where the family and friends have to voice their “I do”s to the idea of the couple getting married too–making explicit the idea that the wedding is about a couple as a part of larger community. I love that and I think it’s so valuable. It’s something I’ve really valued in my marriage and my community and hope to contribute to all my friends, married and otherwise.

I was in many many photos under a beautiful tree, and saw my old piano teacher who played for the service, and the wedding cake was banana cake, a little baby wearing tulle was super cute and mad, I chatted with the bride’s brother who I hadn’t seen in a billion years and is just a fascinating person and I think I later saw moonwalking, and I just had the BEST TIME. The caterers brought too much food so they gave us all leftovers and I didn’t have to cook dinner tonight either and my attendant gift was pickles and preserves made by the bride herself, and traffic back into the city was absolutely outrageous for so late at night, but nothing could extinguish my glow. Sometimes I really wonder, what is this life? How are we doing this? I mean, what?? But aren’t we so lucky, too? I mean, incredibly??

October 18th, 2022

Tidying Up

I’m slowly cleaning things up around here after our 18 month break, just in time for me to actually start doing things again. For example, after many delays, Cynthia Flood’s gorgeous and moving new collection, You Are Here is coming out on October 25, with an introduction by yours truly–the launch is the evening before, Monday October 24, 6pm, Queen Books. I’m not reading, but I’ll be there and thrilled to be, if you care to join me!!

If you click on the Bio link a the top of the page, you’ll get a nice clean page with no dead links AND a new headshot. Just in case you aren’t in the mood to click up there, I’ll put the photo down below, too. Photography by the gloriously talented Claire Sibonney.

Ok, that’s all the updating for right now but there’s more to come!

October 7th, 2022

Thanks for holding

I’m not sure if anyone would be reading this blog anymore after a YEAR AND A HALF of silence but here I am again. What happened to the blog is that I got really into posting on Facebook during the pandemic. You can see some of the pando FB posts that I started moving over here in the omnibus posts prior to my giving up on the whole thing. FB was a really rewarding outlook for me during the lockdown, loneliness, and dread–it was easy to just take 5-10 minutes at some point in the day to pop down a few quick diaristic thoughts on how things were going at work, in the news, in the neighbourhood and in my head. All somewhat bad, but in all different, interesting, sometimes amusing ways. It was nice the way so many people were just ON facebook so they would see the posts and there were instant conversation partners just around all the time. It was very rewarding to chat there.

Not that I don’t love you, little blog, but I was just feeling exhausted and overwhelmed, and deeply lonely and there were so many PEOPLE on Facebook, and then I got into a groove with that. A lot of other things happened–BLM riots, Biden is the US president now…wait, who am I talking to here–the actual blog, this piece of the internet? readers have surely been able to access other news sites in the past 18 months…ok, for me personally, I got laid off from my job of 14 years in July 2021, had a wild ride of job searching, freelance working, novel writing, and existential crisis-ing for 13 months before becoming managing editor at a small feminist publisher in September 2022. Yep, I just didn’t blog the whole nadir of things. YOU’RE WELCOME!!

But actually just kidding, really, because those Facebook posts got solicited as a book and are forthcoming from Dundurn next June in the form of These Days Are Numbered: Diary of a High-Rise Lockdown, so you can still read all about my slow-motion freak-out if you want.

So we’re not really up to speed but we can call it that–I still live in the same place, still married to the same dude, same cats, similar friends (a few dropped off the radar during the pando but you never know when they’ll drop back on!) Hopefully I’ll update this space a little more regularly now that I am WILDLY BUSY AGAIN. That always seems to be the state of affairs that suits me best. Things have been a little too slack the past couple years. Good to be back in the thick of it.

January 7th, 2021

Pandemic Diary: July 14 to July 23

Day 124: I have never really liked to watch TV by myself. It wasn’t something we really did in my family growing up, both because the layout of the house made it hard not to hear the TV wherever you went and because my brother likes to curate and share shows–he’s a show-sharer, and I grew up thinking that’s how TV gets consumed. Thus when I moved out, I watched relatively little TV, only occasionally with my roommates or friends or dates who would invite me specifically to sit down and watch something because “you would like this.” I wasn’t interested in sitting down when other people were watching something and seeing if I liked it and then figuring out the backstory on my own–if someone else wasn’t guiding me into the show. why bother? I also watched SO MUCH tv in my first two decades I was ok with watching nearly none in the third. Then I met Mark and discovered tv is great for when you want to spend tonnes of time with someone but eventually run out of stuff to say. We also have closely aligned tastes and are willing to negotiate–we’ve watched a lot of great stuff together.Now, in the pandemic, would be a great time to be cultivating some modest TV independence, and I had started with terrible Mark-unfriendly shows like How to Get Away with Murder and that Station 19 show, but those ended and now I just don’t care about anything. If Mark isn’t sitting right beside me being annoyed by fidgeting, I will lose interest in everything in 20 minutes. He has a few shows he likes that I don’t and will simply sit for an hour and watch them by himself, which i find…unfathomable, but that is how tv is watched. My attention span is really shot, is what I am trying to say, but also I think tv is a social activity, which doesn’t make any sense. Anyway, this is why I haven’t watched more things in this time of over-abundant time and also why, when you recommend shows to me, you are also really recommending them to Mark, fyi.

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Today’s dialogue:RR: I think I’m going to try wearing all my makeup…that can be my next pandemic project.Mark Sampson: All at once?RR: No, over a long period. Like, try all the products and see what has gone off and should be got rid of.MS: I see. Sorry, was that a silly question?RR: Not as silly as it would have been 6 months ago, actually. I’m running out of ideas, so you never know.MS: Ah.RR: Can I put some mascara on you?MS: No.RR: !!!!MS: I’m going to work out–it would run.

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Further to this morning’s post, here’s some TV we’ve been watching around here, with recos and cautions:Normal People: We finished it because so many people loved it. I didn’t, though it did get better as it went on. It all seemed very far from what I knew at that age. At once point, 18-year-olds hold a dinner party in their nice flat and then, when it’s proposed they go out dancing after, the host says she’s “exhausted” and stays home and does the dishes. 18! Free on Gem. The Birth of a Family: This is a documentary about 4 siblings who were separated in infancy during the 60s Scoop, all adopted by different families. They finally got to all be together in the same room a few years ago. I watched it for my Indigenous Voices discussion group and really liked it. It doesn’t shy away from how dark what happened was, but it’s also just a gentle, sweet film about what appears to be a lovely group f people. Free on Gem. Community, season 6: Thanks, Christine Enright Gilbert for reminding me there was one more season of this show. It’s very very silly now and most of the cast has left (remember when this show included Chevy Chase, Donald Glover, and John Oliver?) but my favourite character, The Dean, remains, played by Jim Rash. The show no longer makes sense but it never really did, so it’s fine. Mark Sampson is tolerating this mainly because it’s almost over and because I’m willing to watch the next one… On Prime (although I believe the other seasons are on Netflix for some reason)The Simpsons, season 19: Pure nostalgia porn at this point, with the occasional zinger. We watch it when we’re too tired for actual good TV. On Disney+Hamilton: As good as I’d hoped, although very long. Disney+ is finally showing some value.The Politician: A wild California fantasy that is so far about a teenager running for class president but according to the trailers eventually gets into actual party politics. Desperately silly and impossible–he’s in grade 12 and already receiving university acceptances, so he’ll be president of what exactly–but I LOVE it. It’s all Broadway actors in it for some reason (plus Gwyneth Paltrow) and the acting is VERY BIG. Everyone’s supposed to be rich and the sets are gorgeous. Apparently if I keep watching long enough, Bette Midler will turn up. What’s not to like? Netflix.Hollywood: Another nonsense Netflix show in the same vein as The Politician but this one takes itself a bit too seriously. It’s about movie making in the 1940s in general and attempts to integrate the industry in particular and it all goes shockingly well despite the period and several of the characters having side-jobs as gigolos (I think that was honestly an attempt to titillate rather than any sort of metaphor). I think American TV likes to present racism as a problem already solved, taking place in a past era, so audiences can feel virtuous and also like no self-examination is necessary. If you can get past the moral lessons, the clothes are cool and the fantastical storyline occasionally integrates some pieces of true Hollywood arcana and it’s fun to figure out which is which. NetflixThe End of the F**king World: I still really like this show but it is heavy, so I only watch it when I’m feeling strong. Weird but emotionally affecting, and funny too. NetflixSpaceforce: I watched one episode and was on my phone for half of it. Only liked Lisa Kudrow, as the inexplicably jailed wife. Netflix

After 125 days of lockdown, I went to my office!! This is the longest I have ever been not there in the nearly 13 years I’ve worked at the company (in the usual way of things, my personnel file has me celebrating my 10-year anniversary last Saturday). I was very excited and meant to take photos but in the end it was frazzling and stressful and I took none. Here are impressions instead (this is very very inside baseball, and if you aren’t a Nelsonite or alum, you may wish to stop reading now) (upon further reflection, even if you do work at Nelson, you may not be all that interested in what I found on the floor of my office…??)–I was driving a borrowed car, and this was also my first time behind the wheel in a while and I expected to be super-anxious but was so happy to be back in Scarborough travelling the familiar route that I forgot to freak out!–the LRT is coming along! When last I saw it, there were grooved tracks in the intersections (like streetcar tracks) but now there are raised tracks everywhere else (like GO tracks) and even little signals in places. It’s still a construction zoo, but looks like…it could actually happen???–the parking lot was largely empty but there were perhaps 10-12 cars there, as the warehouse is still operating and some people have to come in for other stuff…–I had to call from the parking lot and a facilities staffer–R–came out to get me. We were both wearing masks. Then I went inside and there was a little cart set up with hand sani–I had just put some on but I used more to set my colleague at ease–and nitrile gloves, plus a sign-in sheet. VERY OFFICIAL.–In my department, some of the perms people were there! It was so exciting to see them and we were yelling but then I realized I was taking up someone’s time to escort me to my office so I had to say goodbye. –Everything looked the same except the lights were off. of course, everyone left thinking they’d be back pretty soon so nothing was boxed up or even tidied. It was like coming in real early on a Monday. There were some printouts on my desk someone probably left for me when I started lockdown slightly early owing to my TTC ridership.–I couldn’t the lights on, and my actual purpose in the office was to get the big monitor off my desk (finally!) and it plugged in in three different spots, so it was all very challenging. There was some concern about me taking such an expensive item away, but no concern about crawling around on the floor yanking cords in the dark.–While I was on the floor, I found my spare pair of office shoes. It was like winning the lottery, since my other shoes have taken the opportunity of the pandemic to disintegrate. I am down to a pair of flats from Zellers and a pair of sandals from Nine West to last the summer, both stores that no longer exist, both pairs of shoes that shed parts of themselves every time I wear them. This find was a 50% increase in shoes for me! I shoved them in my bag.–Other things I took from my office (I would have taken everything if I hadn’t been wasting someone else’s time): prescription drugs, two plants that were in surprisingly good shape (our VP has been watering them occasionally), a gift my niece wanted in February and now will likely be mystified by.–R got the lights on and I was finally able to disconnect the monitor from the tangle of other wires. It would not fit in the bag I brought for it and I couldn’t carry it with everything else, so R had to carry it–I felt like a gender stereotype. Also my office looked like it had been robbed by someone having a stroke and I longed to clean it up but we had to go!!!!–We lugged everything downstairs and I signed back out, then R put the monitor in my car and I hauled over the plants. Goodbye, Nelson–I don’t know when I’ll see you again!–I had meant to go berry-picking at a bush I know about near the office, but someone had scheduled a meeting!! So no berries. I did stop and get drive-thru, because I drive so seldom and it’s such a treat. It took a while but I got a 99 cent Frosty, which is in itself an icon of Scarborough summer to me, along with a relatively healthy salad from Wendy’s. –It took me two trips to get everything upstairs in the elevator. On the second time, I had the plants and I had to very carefully press my floor with my elbow. The guy in the elevator said, “Do you want me to do it for you? Oh, you did it!” I shrugged modestly and said, “I’ve been working on my moves.”–Mark is at work today and now we’ve had a day where we both went to work and when he gets home we can talk about it–wheeeee!

Day 128: Two days of Facebook silence from me–very unusual! I actually left town for a day and a half on the mini-est of minibreaks! Mark and I were trying to figure out when we’d last stayed away overnight anywhere–we were in Toronto for the December holidays, so probably the fall…?? Anyway, it had been a while! Possibly I was a bit over-excited for this trip, since I was unduly disappointed that it rained on Thursday and one of my shoes fell apart in the rain (remember when I said the shoes were almost dead? I didn’t) and I had a pretty bad migraine in the night (remember when I said it had been a strangely long streak without them? I didn’t) BUT we visited some nice vineyards, had a lovely drive, stayed at a gorgeous inn, and spent yesterday at the beach in Sandbanks, so it was still an excellent trip.But as perhaps you’ve noticed, these posts are mainly concentrated on things that I find fun or interesting or challenging to write about, so let’s concentrate on the negative for a moment. On Thursday evening at about the nadir of my sorrow, it was raining and we had pretty much given up finding a socially-distanced restaurant patio that wasn’t soggy that was actually nice and settled for diner-burgers, and I was pretty miffed about being dealt this hand. You ordered and then sat to wait for things to be brought. A young server came with my drink. I looked up, smiled, and said thank you, as i was raised to do, and she grunted and stomped off.This was exciting! The surly teenaged service staff is a trope you see often in movies and tv, but you rarely encounter it real life–most teens are actually quite polite to strangers who might tip them, in my experience. Also, in movies and tv and books, you often see a character moving through the world encountering only other character in the exact same mood as she is, like pathetic fallacy but with people, which is dumb in writing but very pleasant in real life–I felt briefly in tune with the universe in my bad mood. It was very satisfying. It was also satisfying to see some resolutely not try at something, since I am always so worried about everything and it’s exhausting. When she returned with the food, instead of setting it on the table, she simply loosened her grip and let it fall! Amazing–I wished I could have filmed it (it was burgers wrapped in paper, so they weren’t harmed–it was just such a jerk move though). I am not going to start doing the my-life equivalent of dumping burgers on people’s tables, but this surely teen was fun to watch in a grim sort of way, and reminded me that being kind is a choice, so if I do it, I choose it. Sometimes I forget that.

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Some of you who follow such things may have seen–and if you didn’t, I’m here to tell you–that Extinction Rebellion Toronto is shutting down in a really miserable and sad way, via a letter on their FB page. I’ve known this was coming for weeks and wasn’t exactly sure if it was a secret or not, so I’ve just been quietly upset and it feels good to have it out in the open now. I hate secrets.I want to speak only for myself here so I’ll say this: I was a member of XRTO for almost exactly a year. It was my first sustained attempt at activism–I invested a lot, and did a lot that scared me, and felt that I made a tiny difference. It was difficult for me, who just wants to get along with everyone, but I found it very meaningful and joyful a lot of the time. This has been a huge loss for me, and a lot of people, I would imagine, to have the organization just eat itself like this.That said, I wasn’t part of the main coordination group that did a lot of the heavy lifting, never saw any of the dark stuff mentioned in the letter, and when things got really ugly at the end, I just quit–I imagine it was a lot harder for many others. Next time–and I do hope there will be a next time for me–I will be more careful about getting involved with a sustainable, organized group with time-tested policies, and careful of how much of my heart (and calendar) I commit.

Day 129: Did you at some point agree to “forsake all others” not realizing that you’d encounter a pandemic with this degree of forsakenness? Have you spoken mainly to your spouse or partner for 129 straight days? Would you like some tips to liven things up? Well, this is not really going to help but here you go:–play the occasional game of Scrabble until the one of you who never wins wins, then never play again–talk about investigating whether the Wii still works so you can play wakeboarding for the first time since 2017, but don’t actually do it–talk about which of your friends and family you’d like to emulate in life while sitting on the couch and eating chips–fight about a picture being askew–fight about which rooms plants go in–fight about which of you has too many shoes–read the same book at the same time so you’ll have something to talk about, discover neither of you really likes the book, and have all conversations degenerate into kvetching. Have this happen twice, then give up.–imagine a life for a dead person had they not died (only fun to do for celebrities; too sad for actual personal connections)–ask each other a lot of concerned questions each time anyone coughs, even if it’s clearly because of dust–step up your pet grooming routines to the point that pets are enraged–brainstorm mealplans despite the fact that one of you doesn’t care, so that it becomes a mealplan monologue–brainstorm rich interior lives for pets–brainstorm rich interior lives for neighbours–brainstorm rich lives for actual rich people as you stroll around their neighbourhoods day after day, peering into their yards, garages, and windows–brainstorm what you would do yourselves if you became rich. Make plans for what would go behind each of those many windows. You can’t be too prepared for this sort of thing.–embrace and then immediate comment on how sweaty the other person is–discuss the latest literary explosions on twitter (note: ideally one would only discuss such things with loved ones, and not ever on actual twitter)–fight about kinds of tofu, and whether they exist.–fight about kinds of laundry detergent.–fight about whether one can buy a nice gift at a Staples–spend some time in separate rooms–agree that you are lucky to have found each other, because who else would put up with all this?

Day 130: So I’ve decided to try out all my makeup to see what is still good, what I still like, etc. Though not, as previously mentioned, wearing it all at once, to expedite the process, I’m doing a complete “look” each day, which I would never do normally except for readings, job interviews, and formal events, so I intimidate myself each time I look in a mirror. I am currently wearing eyeliner, something last seen in public at Karen Maybury‘s wedding, I believe (she married a person, just a person not on facebook). Although I sure do own a lot of eyeliner. Time to purge some? Time to wear it more? Time to just glory in possession?? I have twin urges not to have clutter and not to have waste. I am careful to give away surplus possessions in a useful way–I’ve volunteered at some charities and seen how they can be treated as “guilt-free garbage” (people give things indiscriminately, leaving the volunteers the labour for sorting, cleaning, repairing, and/or discarding) and I try to be very intentional and genuinely generous when I donate, not just happy to be rid of stuff. But there’s little I can do about makeup, since it’s touched my face. I used to be in a “tradesies” club with people I knew well (remember, old friends?), and we would offer each other no longer wanted makeup along with the complete backstory of when and how we’d used it, and try to wipe everything down as much as possible. Honesty, it probably still wasn’t the *best* idea, but I got and gave some nice stuff, and there were no ill effects, as far as I know. Clearly, it’s game over on that sort of practice in pandemic times. So what of my many eyeliners then? Are they destined for the landfill? This is bad. I will have to do better in future but makeup is my big weakness.

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Oh yes, something else to complain about: vertigo! I started suffering from vertigo about 5-6 years ago, mainly on my left side. I think vertigo lives in your ears somehow, so if I’m right about that mine is mainly in my left ear. It happens with a radical change of position, so lying down or sitting/standing up after lying down, or rolling over in bed. Just sitting/standing, or lying still, no problem. As with most conditions I’ve developed over the years, the first incident was the most intense and terrifying–everything spinning in a nauseating way. Since then, I have had other intense vertigo flares (is that a thing? times when I’ve felt it more strongly) but it’s often this very gentle little spinny feeling when I’m lying down to go to sleep at night. Obviously, the intense version is bad and I hate it, but the very gentle version is sort of…nice? Almost like being rocked to sleep. I think I might have had this part of the vertigo all my life because I remember imagining I was spinning spinning spinning when I was a tiny kid trying to fall asleep at night. It just got more intense over time until eventually it became an actual problem.And yes, I have tried all the home remedy half-somersault things and nothing seems to work, and the condition isn’t dire enough to put on the list with all my other medical conditions. 3-4 times a year, stuff spins. I honestly have a suspicion that it’s diet related, but it’s not an exact one-to-one correlation–like, it’s triggered by certain foods, but only if I eat a lot of them and also am tired and not feeling well, you know? So it’s hard to exactly self-police enough to keep it at bay. So I will settle for complaining and feeling sorry for myself. Feel free to very little pity for me, I get it–also, happy to hear other stories of vertigo adventures if you have them!

Day 131: I dreamed last night that I had a bad cough but I went in to work anyway. It was like that dream where you forget you’re taking the course until it’s time for the exam–I forgot there was a pandemic until I had been at work almost the whole day and then all of the sudden I drew up short in horror and shame, realizing I wasn’t supposed to be there, trying to remember who I’d seen, where I’d been. No one had said anything about me coughing, but I figured they were just being polite and were privately furious/terrified. In the dream, it did not occur to me to wonder what I was actually sick with; it was purely a social failure on my part. I do not have a cough and I cannot go to work. I did not sleep well last night.

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PSA: Apparently the word “polenta” means two things: a sort of firm gelatinous cornmeal cake that comes in a tube and some variant on the gritty powdery cornmeal itself that you use to make cornbread out of (or you do if you’re me). If you don’t know this and you can’t pick it up from context clues in the extremely poorly worded and imprecise recipe in the Globe that your husband sent you and then forgot about, you will end up with a sort of Dickensian gruel for dinner and be extremely unhappy.The slight upturn in the story is that I took the rest of the tube, cut it into slices and fried it so we didn’t have to have gruel for dinner, because the extremely poorly worded and imprecise directions on the side of the tube said you could fry it. It was while looking on the internet for some more precise directions that I found out about the two meanings of “polenta” and became enraged. Mark forgot ever sending me the recipe and was surprised by the whole thing, though he claimed to enjoy the fried polenta. It tasted to me like wet greasy cornbread, so in the future I will just make cornbread and it will be better. The Globe piece did come with a good salad recipe so at least that was nice.Commiseration and very precisely worded polenta recipes (that don’t involve a bbq, because I hear that’s common and we don’t have one) being accepted at this time.

Day 132: I have a fab memory for names and faces. Not as good as it used to be when I was younger, and it often doesn’t apply to actual practical things like where is my credit card or which immunizations I’ve had, but if you are a person with a name and a face, chances are I remember you. This is hella creepy if I met you a couple times in the nineties and then we run into each other on the subway and I want to talk about the minute details of your life that I recall. Largely I have learned to just leave it alone in those cases–there’s probably a reason I haven’t spoken to someone in 20 years most of the time. Also I had facial reconstructive surgery in 2007 and no one who hasn’t seen me since then ever recognizes me (also 13 years is a long time, both because you might have forgotten some details and because if so much time has passed, perhaps we weren’t that close in the first place.Anyway, during the pandemic, I think most of us are occasionally having names of old friends pop into our heads and wondering if they are ok. Since i remember everyone, my list is long. Here are some of the people I’ve wondered about:–classmate from 3rd and 4th year university who carried a kitten named Chub-Chub in the hood of his sweatshirt–adorable couple who dated for all 5 years in my high school and then actually got married–whoever owned my cats before we got them–Coach McGurk on tv show Home Movies (note: not a real person, note: a cartoon, note: tv show was cancelled years ago)–old boss who used to wear basketball shirts on casual Fridays such that you could see his nipples–my nursery school teacher who left to have own baby–superintendent who removed dead mouse (rat??) from first apartment–guy I dated immediately before Mark, who didn’t seem that into it but who didn’t seem to have anything else to do–extremely charming and grumpy university TA (oh, I just looked him up–he’s fine according to Rate My Professor)–old neighbour who let me play with his cats–other old neighbour who briefly and ineffectually tried to video-stalk me (at least I think that was what he was doing??)–other old neighbour who sold tires out of his apartment–Women Woman

Day 133: (RR is working at her computer, MS approaches from behind and hugs her)RR: I’m doing an experiment.MS: On what?RR (turns and faces him) On me!MS: You have lipstick on your nose–is that part of the experiment?

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Omg, after months of nowhere to be, I had a dentist appointment on Monday and was pretty stoked. Yesterday they called to confirm and also asked if I happened to be free to fill in a cancellation at 4pm…Friday? I thought Friday. I said sure, as i’m off Friday afternoon. They just called to see where I was, apparently it was for today. I don’t think I’ve ever missed a dentist appointment in my life. They were sort of decent about it, but I feel like a jerk. I also wonder if they are going to send me some sort of no-show bill, there’s often some kind of penalty, isn’t there? I DON’T KNOW THESE THINGS BECAUSE I ALWAYS SHOW UP FOR EVERYTHING!! Pandemic, you are ruining me!Also, now my dentist appointment is on Tuesday and I’m going to be worried about it until then.

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Wow, it is very challenging to book a vacation right now. I mean, I personally always found it challenging to book a vacation, but now especially since I can make a whole plan and then find that it mainly doesn’t work but I can maybe salvage a little bit of it and rethink the rest or is it just better to start over or… Also possibly the whole thing will be terrible and then I will have waste money and vacation time, plus there’s the whole pandemic thing that no I haven’t forgotten about so that’s a risk, but just to go anywhere without jackhammers (they have started on the other side of the building which is surprisingly just as loud) would be a gift so I am willing to try.In order to keep myself organized, I tried putting all our plans into Google Calendar, which I haven’t opened in a good long time and oh, it was very sad to see all our old plans, long since abandoned, still living on, so foolish and naive, in Google Calendar.

January 6th, 2021

Pandemic Diary: July 3 to July 13

Day 113: I really oscillate between trying to focus on the good I see in others and the good I can do myself and just being overwhelmed by how much isn’t good right now. Even if things are largely ok for me (eh), it’s hard to see others struggle. Yesterday a young woman turned to Mark Sampson in the elevator and just started weeping. He asked her if she wanted to talk and she did, so they got off on a floor and talked for a bit, and then he came home. It took me a long time to understand the story–I kept asking where she lived, what is her name, when would he see her again, what she needed him to do. I’m all about the action items! It turned out it was really just one of those moments when someone is falling apart and they just need someone to be kind to them. I’m so glad Mark was there and that he is kind–the right person to ask. But I worry about all the other people out there, crying in their own elevators (probably a metaphor) and will they find anyone to talk to? Take care out there, friends.

Day 114: Very hot and largely immobile here, but I have had two experiences since last we spoke. 1) Finally saw Hamilton, via Disney+, on the very day my Mirvish refund came through. I would have preferred to see it live, and after years and years of hearing how great it was, the show was a little overhyped for me, but it’s still very very good and I’m glad Disney brought it to home viewers to cheer us up in the pandemic. Lafayette was my favourite character and probably The Room Where It Happens was my favourite song but I’m guessing I’ll wind up buying the soundtrack so that opinion will develop. Also the show seems to assume a command of American history I just don’t have–it was like one unit for me in high school–and I got confused a bit, but also learned a lot. 2) I went to the Brickworks farmers’ market for the first time this year this morning. When I heard it had reopened, I wanted to just go, but when I read about how much they were limiting people inside and all their procedures (it’s really wonderfully well organized and careful) I realized it wouldn’t be fun the way it used to be–plus a long lineup in the sun–so I ordered the “farm in a box” instead. You just order and pay online and get a pickup window to get it–there was no line when we went so it was just one moment of asking for and retrieving the box and that’s all. So we got the pleasant (hot) walk through the ravine and some cool, if random, things from the market–they just do a selection of what’s fresh every week–and got to support the farmers without a lot of contact or waiting. If you are curious, here is what we got in the regular produce box, which is $50:–three kinds of greens, two salad, one cooking from the looks of it–a variety pack of onions–a variety pack of beets–a bunch of carrots, mainly orange, a couple yellow–about 10 apples (last year’s, I guess, but I had one at lunch and it was good)–some very fancy looking mushrooms–garlic scapes!–two bulbs of actual garlic–a big loaf of French breadYou can upgrade to a bigger box of produce for another $30 but instead we paid $30 for a “dairy” add-on, which turned out to be three kinds of cheese, which was a little less exciting but still nice. We def won’t be doing this every week but it’s a nice treat for once in a while!

Day 115: Friends, I saw my mom! I started lockdown on March 13 and she was supposed to come over for dinner on March 14, so that was the first loss for me…115 days later, after most of our interactions being on the phone or on Skype, and few being me yelling up at her balcony and scaring passersby, me and my brother wore masks and sat with her outside her building and chatted for half an hour and it wasn’t too scary… If it wasn’t for us sitting weirdly far from each other, and the masks, and the looming sense of terror, and the lack of food or drink, it was sort of like something we would have done previously. Yay, Mom! If you know her, she’s still about the same…The other thing I did today was go to FreshCO, which I was excited about since Mark and i alternate weeks of grocery shopping, and groceries and the drug store are our only real indoor errands, this was my only opportunity of the heat wave to experience the delicious refrigeration of industrial air conditioning. It was indeed nice and cool in there, but the pleasure was sort of ruined because FreshCO has given up on all their pandemic precautions for some reason…? At first I thought there was just no line outside because there weren’t enough people but then I realized they just weren’t monitoring it anymore…by then I was inside and was trying to make the best of it. It wasn’t really that busy and most of the customers were masked and being very careful and polite (except for the unmasked woman angrily touching every tomato??) but very few of the staff were wearing masks??? It’s weird that FreshCO, a store that’s been really good to deal with throughout the pandemic, chose to get worse after the mask law came in. I’d say customers at about 80% masks, staff at about 40%, so it must be a bring-your-own policy (they all had different ones). The staff was not in a good mood either, and the cashier snapped at me when I tried to follow the social-distancing policy that was in effect two weeks ago when I was there last (don’t move to the cash until the person ahead has left–I still waited). You know when you see a whole group of people in a bad mood, it’s management treating them badly. I feel bad for the staff there, who deserve better but anyway we can’t go there anymore–there are less convenient, more expensive stores that we have access to but others maybe don’t, so we can leave FreshCo a little emptier for those who have no choice. Urrrgh. Or maybe the store management will wise up??? Have other people been seeing this in stores?? I thought if there was a law…????

(2)

What we talked about at dinner tonight, pandemic+heat wave edition:–the books we are both reading, and what the characters have gotten up to since last we checked in on our respective reading–so, it’s still hot, I guess–the food we are eating, how it tastes, how it was made, other ways it could have been made, ways it could have been better, what we like about it, was turning on the oven worth it–my need for yoga mat cleaner, whether that is a lie the internet told me, my plan to make it myself, the trouble and expense of getting the ingredients, the trouble with getting the pre-made kind, the kind I finally found for a reasonable price, the other things I bought to make up the free-shipping minimum, will those things be enjoyable–hey, it’s the 7:30 cheer, it’s pretty lacklustre, are people just hot or losing interest, this has been going on a long time, remember when we were so happy to hear it at first, also: who oooo–me apologizing for the yoga-mat-cleaner story, which was actually even longer than the above makes it out to be–reminiscing about yesterday, when we had (distanced) dinner with other people

Day 116: My *Once* poster fell off the wall–*Once* my first book from Biblioasis with the gorgeous cover art by Marta Chudolinska, not the Irish musical. It’s the foam-board poster from the Pages window display that was up the week before my This Is Not a Reading Series book launch–remember Pages? Remember TINaRS? Remember book launches that happened in rooms with other people? Pages generously gave me all the posters from the display after it got taken down and I still have a little one and a big one, because why not–how many times will I have a window display for my work, or such an amazing cover, or a book at all? I’m trying to not to take it as a sign for my career that it fell off the wall–just the heat drying out the adhesive in the hook thingy… I put it back up with rolled up pieces of packing tape, because I’m that kind of class act. It is important to remember, as I sit here in trapped in my office in the heat and the jackhammers (they’re back!) that magical things have happened before and could again. I remember Brandon McFarlane trying to send me a photo of the Pages display when he stumbled across it but I couldn’t really make it out and no one had told me that was going to happen and I was just so baffled and I eventually went down to Queen Street to see what was going on (remember just going places at random??) and oooohhh…

(2) My cats were melting into fuzzy puddles so I dragged them into the one air-conditioned room with me and now they are furious that I trampled on their freedom. Would my cats be…anti-maskers?

(3)

Even though I’m pretty old, I’m reasonably adept at sorting out technology–42 is “digital immigrant” status since I made it to about 14 without the internet but I have acclimated relatively well. Except I lived with my music on shuffle for the past 3 years and could never get it to stop doing that and figured that would just be my life now. I just complained about it to Mark for the first time because the Hamilton soundtrack doesn’t make any sense on shuffle, and his first question was…did you google it? No, no I did not. And I can’t even say because I’m 42 since Mark is older than me. Anyway, he googled it and it’s not on shuffle anymore.This has be been both helpful and humbling.

Day 117: When I was in university, one of my roommates (the commerce student) observed that we used up our toilet paper more during exam periods. It took a minute but we realized, of course, we were home more–not going to class, parties, or bars, not hanging out with friends except for study dates–if we weren’t at the library or an actual exam, we were home, studying and using our own toilet. Hence the additional paper costs. It’s a strange little lesson that has stuck with me, never more so than during the pandemic–going places allows us to take advantage of some of their overhead costs. By not working in an office, sure, I’m saving money on my transit pass, but let’s be real, I wasn’t spending that much on nice office clothes and I brought my lunch almost every day. Occasionally I went out for lunch with colleague-friends (and that is a savings I would obliterate in a heartbeat if I could lunch with those folks again) and I did buy drinks and snacks at the office sometimes–all my grocery store/homemade meals and snacks are indeed cheaper than those treats, but only slightly cheaper (I am not a snack spendthrift) and far less fun. On the downside, I am losing out on access to office climate control (oh, how I miss it this week!), super-fast wifi, filtered water, ergonomic (somewhat) desk, printer/photocopier, lightbulbs, and of course, toilet paper. I’m doing free yoga with Adriene (into another 30 days–today was #3) instead of paying for occasional classes at the office), but I still bought a modest baby shower gift for a pregnant colleague. I have unlimited wifi at home and I’m nowhere near my long-distance limit… On the whole, I’ve probably saved a bit of money each month of the pandemic, most of it on the transit pass and snacks, but at what cost emotionally?? I miss my colleagues. Hell, I miss my university roommates.

(2) Tonight: I made scape pesto from our farmers’ market box. As I was making it, I called my mom to arrange to drop off her stuff from the drug store and offered her a little pesto–I thought it would be a fun treat since scapes are so hard to get. Except it didn’t turn out that great. I was very sweaty when I turned up at my mom’s and we tried to enjoy the rare pleasure of talking to each other but were both having trouble hearing/speaking in our masks/standing beside traffic. I was MUCH sweatier when I got home, and excited to see Mark just turning on the air conditioner. I sat down to wait for this to happen…and a fuse blew, which had never happened in the nine years we’ve lived in this apartment. Mark tried to fix it for a while and I sank into sweaty despair–the wifi was out, all the rooms where a person could conceivably sleep had no power for fans…doom doom doom. Finally Mark called the after-hours super and I…took a bath… I’m not proud of this but I was just so hot and I figured the super would take hours. He came about ten minutes later and showed Mark where the spare fuses were (inside the box!)…did anyone ever tell us that? I had to hide in the bathroom since I hadn’t even been clever enough to bring clothes in there with me. This evening was a real low-point and we will be charged $35 for it, but for now everything is ok and the blessed blankness of unconsciousness awaits…

Day 118: I think you have seen the last post from me ranting about masks. I think people should wear them, I think those who protest are ridiculous and harmful, but I also think I have maybe gotten a wee bit obsessive about this one small measure against a sea of chaos. I’ve been really struggling with my vision of society as a strong fabric and myself as a bright stitch and perhaps perhaps I overidentified that struggle with the masks a little. I don’t know that that’s a bad idea, but it’s not going to save the world exactly and I need to calm down…PS–it is raining, and although that hasn’t made anything cooler YET it does seem hopeful and also is just something new to look at and also I can open my curtains for the first time in a couple days.

(2)

I was talking to Mark Sampson while he was taking vitamins (I wasn’t done making a point so I followed him)…RR: Are you you chewing the non-chewable ones?MS: These are chewable! (reads package) Well, it doesn’t *say* chewable but it’s lying.RR: Really?MS (picks up other vitamins)RR: And those–MS: These aren’t chewable, yes, I know. I figured that out last night.RR: What? You tried to–MS: I tried to eat one and realized, whoa, these aren’t chewable. (puts vitamin in mouth, pours water)RR: But we had a conversation about this before! I specifically told you I didn’t get the chewable Ds…how could you make that mistake?MS (starts to laugh, spits out water) Don’t make me laugh. (swallows) I was just checking…or I forgot…

It’s day 119, end of week 17 today, and very very hot so of course I have turned on the oven–let’s not talk about it. Since I’m getting ever closer to having told Facebook all my secrets, did you know that I’m into astrology? I’m not REALLY into astrology–if you tell me something from my star chart that I don’t believe, I’ll shrug it off, but if you tell me something that I DO believe, I’ll accept it into the core of my belief system forever because I’m a cuspal Gemini and of COURSE. I actually co-wrote horoscope column in my high school paper for a while, with a friend who actually knew where the stars were–that was a good time. There’s been a meme going around where you need to know your moon sign and rising sign, which I never knew, but now I do, but have lost track of the meme, so here I am, sharing it with you fine folks. I’m a Sagittarius moon–moon signs are apparently one’s private nature, as opposed to sun signs, which are the face one shows to the world (and gets written up in the newspaper zodiac column. Sag moons are optimistic and light-hearted, and like to travel and have their own space–yes, this is all correct. My rising sign is Cancer, which is a sensitive and kind but wary and somewhat closed off. Rising signs are first impression, physical appearances and mannerisms. I think it’s accurate–I think I come across as very shy and reserved when you first meet me, and forever if I’m afraid of you, but I’m pretty forthright and talky once I feel comfortable (especially if I can write instead of speak!)The thing I like about astrology is available to us in a variety of ways, of course. It’s a chance to think about a lot of small aspects of our personalities and how they all work and how they would or wouldn’t work best and really interrogate the self. It’s an interesting angle to come at it from, is how I look at it.

Day 120: Hello, it is one million degrees at casa del Sampsonblum and everyone has had it with everything. A cat was complaining I wasn’t getting his breakfast fast enough, and in between complaints he had to lie down. I feel him, as i had been awake for perhaps 20 minutes at that point and also wished to lie down. My 30-day meditation challenge has ended, and it turns out I am very bad at meditation, and did not seem to get better at it in the course of the 30 days. I love thinking! The problem with adulthood is that no one forces us to do the things we are bad at, when those are exactly the things we would benefit from doing more of–I could probably really use more meditation in my life, but will I do it? TBD but it’s not looking great. On the other hand, today is day 6 of my second 30-day yoga challenge and that’s going pretty good, although Adriene’s hair is dyed a new colour in this one and I keep thinking about that for some reason. Also the yoga-mat cleaner came yesterday and I tried it after today’s workout–seems nice, although the real test will be my next workout, when I’m lying on the mat and can smell it and see if it drives me nuts or not. FYI, in the end i bought an all-purpose all-natural cleaner that said it could be used on yoga mats and it was much cheaper than the yoga-specific brands, which is usually the way.I am finding it hard to get things done due to heat and pandemic and general stress levels, but there are some things I actually WANT to do. These are 1) yoga 2) cook/bake (I took a break but am back now) 3) tend to my plants 4) read (I took a LONG break but am back 5) talk to people on facebook 6) occasional phone and zoom (I love it in moderation but have to be careful because I get so tired) 7) harass the catsThings I do not really want to do include TV (though I’m willing to try again), go for walks (too hot), read the news (obvi), or do much in the way of creative work. This is sad to me, as those (except news) are some of my favourite things normally.What do you want to do, given your druthers (if druthers are available to you)?

Day 121: It is moderately cooler after last night’s rain, to the point where I ate breakfast on the balcony and felt ok about it. After cleaning the apartment–and, like, I didn’t really put my all into or anything, since we are definitely not having company–I am drenched in sweat. Checked to see if the air-quality alert had lifted, as it is definitely bothering my lungs, and times of a respiratory virus is not the times you want anything bothering your lungs. Now the advisory on the Enviro Can website is for tornados. Amazing. If you could promise me no one and nothing of value would get hurt, I would actually like to see a tornado someday, but since no one is in a position to make such promises, I guess if a tornado approaches I will have to hide. Disappointing.Alice has been making some cautious overtures towards the air conditioner. It’s interesting to see her tiny brain grinding towards her own best interest but she is getting there. Efforts to help are met with panic and fury; she’s got to do it on her own. If you haven’t had the privilege of meeting Alice, she is 8 years old and weighs 6 pounds, largely eyes and whichever organ is responsible for purrs.

Day 122: Spent the day up north with family, delighted to get the chance to hang out and chat and eat and SWIM. Can’t think if I’ve ever swum in Georgian Bay before but it was warm and very wavy and amazing. I was very happy.On the way home, Wilson Phillips’ “Hold On” came on the radio (we had a really bad hand of radio songs dealt to us and that was one of the few winners) and Mark Sampson commented that the lyrics seemed a little harsh to him, so there’s something I know about Mark now that I didn’t know before. I was so impressed by *Hamilton* I looked up what Lin Manuel Miranda is doing next and it’s…writing songs for the *Little Mermaid* reboot?? I admit I haven’t seen the first Disney film, though I did read the Hans Christian Andersen original story, which is pretty dark, and I just don’t know why anyone wants a film version of it, let alone two. I asked my 5yo niece if maybe she’d want to see it, thinking if she did I could take her and that would be a fun post-pandemic experience for us, but she wasn’t that interested either. Who is the target audience for Lin Manuel Miranda’s Mermaid movie?? The upstairs neighbours seem to have acquired a bass guitar that they don’t know how to play and I’m sort of here for it. Go, ceiling friends, go. Your confidence is inspiring! This week is shaping up to be a zoo at work but I have Thursday and Friday off, after no real vacation days since March, so I figure I will be fine for three days. I hope you are also going to be fine this week, and onwards, friends.

Day 123: It is funny how the subconscious will continue to work on a problem absent any new inputs or even conscious knowledge that there is a problem. Several times in my life, there’s been a food I didn’t like, and I haven’t seen or thought about it for years, and then one day I thought, “I should try that food again, I bet I like it now!” and I was right! The mind, and tastebuds, evolve.The pandemic has for some reason given my subconscious free range to revisit incidents from my past with new awareness and let me know it was me that made it awkward and, in some cases, me who was unkind. This is surprising! It’s not that I don’t think I’m ever the problem–more that I think I generally notice and apologize. But not necessarily! Sigh…Once at an event I hosted, people were chatting about their lives, and then someone interrupted to say she couldn’t understand our conversation because she’d never had the house and the yard, the dishwasher and the garage-door opener, her life had been completely different from all that and she couldn’t relate at all. It was a very strange moment because we were in my home and, as many of you might know, I live in an apartment in St. James Town and don’t have a dishwasher or garage-door opener either. I suppose there might have been someone in the group who had the life of modest suburban amenities she was describing, but I can’t think who it would have been and in any case, it didn’t really affect what we were chatting about. Or at least, at the time I didn’t think it did. There was a strained silence and then conversation just went on.I felt weird about that conversation for years. Somewhere in the heatwave as I was furiously washing dishes by hand in cold water and feeling that life had failed me, my subconscious announced, “She was saying she didn’t feel included in the conversation, you idiot. It was a practiced monologue she pulled up quickly from another time, but her point was you weren’t including her and she wanted to be included. But you still didn’t. You’re a dick.” Well. That was humbling. I hope I can do better if I can ever be allowed in company again. Or if I ever see that person again; we’ve lost touch since, and I just hope she’s doing ok in the pandemic, wherever she is.That revelation actually came to me last week but there was another worse one from teen-hood that came to me as I was falling asleep last night that I’m not even going to share due to shame (and, as you may have noticed, it takes a lot for me). It’s not even that I behaved so badly–though I did–it’s that I didn’t notice.I don’t suppose anyone else is taking the opportunity of being unable to be around people examine all the ways they’ve failed to merit the privilege of being around people in the first place ? No, just me?

(2) It was too hot to walk to the public #raspberry bush last week but I made it today! The berries maybe aren’t as robust as they would’ve been without the heatwave, but they tasted good. Exactly half the bush was picked clean by some thorough but fair minded person. I ate a handful from the other half—plenty left if you are in a berry-picking mood. #urbanforaging #summer #pandemicwalks

(3)

I kept meaning to post this list of things you can do for your cats in a heatwave and now the heatwave is over. Sadly, given the state of the climate, there will probably be another. Notes: this is mainly anecdotal, given cats I know, but I do read up and even if this stuff doesn’t work on your particular cat, it should all be safe. Also, many things apply to both cats and dogs but most of this does not, as far as I know.How to help a hot cat:–brush them–cats shed more when they are hot and brushing off the loose fur lightens the load. Even if it isn’t a significant enough amount of fur to make them cooler, it’ll keep them from grooming it off, getting a hairball and puking, which isn’t fun for either of you in a heatwave (or ever).–change their water dishes frequently. Cats don’t really love drinking water for some reason, and have interesting ideas about what makes water “good”–freshness is big. You could also try moving their water away from their food (they apparently worry about cross-contamination), putting ice cubes in it, or just letting them drink from a tap turned on very slightly. There are also actual cat water fountains you can buy (my cats had one, adored it, and destroyed it, so…yeah).–if your cats get wet food as an occasional treat, heatwaves are good time to get it out. I wouldn’t introduce a brand new food when the cat is already stressed by being hot, though, as some cats get sick from new food formulations and no one wants to clean up cat puke in 41 degree heat.–if you are seriously worried about cat dehydration, or just want to give them a treat, you can try a product called “Cat Milk” that Whiskas makes (it’s in the cat food aisle at the grocery store) (don’t give regular milk unless you already know your cat can tolerate it–see above concern about cat digestive health). Obvi, if you were really thirsty you wouldn’t want milk, but it helps a bit. Also the juice from a tuna or salmon can–this is salty so again, not super-hydrating, but if you’re very worried and trying to tempt a stubborn cat, it’s something.–sponge baths: you soak a washcloth in cold water, wring it out, then wipe down your cat. One cat of mine thinks this is the step below actual murder; one thinks it’s kind of pleasant and cooling. It only takes one try to figure out which type of cat you have. Also helps remove loose hair.–You can also freeze damp towels for them to lie on, or wrap towels around ice packs. My cats do not like this, but I have read about it.–My cats also hate fans and air conditioning but they like to lie outside if there is a breeze, so I don’t really know what that is about. I have given up trying to make them, because making a hot miserable cat also frightened that the air conditioner is going to eat him is not doing anyone any favours. –Indoor cats will sometimes go under furniture when they are hot, I think because their instincts tell them to get into shade in the heat (which is what my outdoor cat used to do). Unfortunately a very sick or injured cat will also hide, so if your cat is doing this for long periods in the heat, you’ll have to drag them out occasionally to check that they are ok. But this is the price we all pay for our love.

January 4th, 2021

Pandemic Diary: June 23 to July 2

Well, I actually kept writing these posts over on Facebook but sort of fell off the wagon moving them over here. Now I’m doing a January (and perhaps February??) posting cleanse on FB, so this seems a good time to get back on track scooting content over here. Much of it is a little dated now but this pandemic diary has been so fun and cathartic for me, I’d like to preserve it, if only for myself and any occasional passersby who might happen to care…

Day 103: Tomato plant tipped over; cat unplugged the router; got caught in rain storm; mis-entered Excel formulae; caught mask elastic in earring and could not remove until home and rescued by husband; jackhammers; missed opportunity to be voice of reason in argument and now argument fully committed to being unreasonable; today would be parents’ 48th wedding anniversary if father were not dead.But! I made a reasonably successful quiche, got some nice texts and emails from friends, and am probably overselling my ability to be the voice of reason in any argument anyway. I also managed to accidentally lock myself out of some software that was upsetting me, so it’s actually better I can’t get back in, and I can’t be the first person, nor the last, to become hopelessly enmeshed in my mask (would be great if anyone else has a story??) Umm, still super-worried about that tomato plant…but the quiche was really good. Think I’ll call my mom now.

Day 104: the number of times I’ve seen a man decide he was being the best feminist in the room by doing all the talking and patiently (or not) explaining to the women who engaged with him how they just didn’t get it is…not insignificant. Women don’t always get this stuff right–especially cis, straight, white women–and there’s also more than one right. It’s important to be humble and open to both discussion and correction, and I know sometimes I get defensive–but oh! my! goodness! There’s something about a man in lecture mode on the subject of How We Treat Women Now that makes me feel like all hope is lost… If you’re wondering, the most feminist sentence I’ve personally ever heard from a man is “What do *you* think?” and then a respectful, attentive gaze on the woman he was listening to. Not like dudes can’t have any opinions on feminist issues, but listening first and genuinely taking on what is heard goes a looong way.

(2)

Ok, while I’m just ranting about stuff, I found an anti-mask postcard in my elevator last night–like, professionally printed, someone went to that level of trouble. It had a list of 10 reasons masks are bad, most of which were fully bananas, like somehow masks give you “high blood acidity,” which is…what? It had no sources, and sounded like it was created by Russian bots to sow discord in Canadian society…maybe it was. (There were a couple reasons that were vaguely legit–I know folks with certain breathing problems actually can’t wear masks, and that was mentioned, but as if it applied to most people.)I can’t even believe any people at all actually believe this stuff. Everyone who lives in society has seen doctors and nurses wearing masks all day to do their jobs and not suffering from “high blood acidity” or anything else. The anti-mask stuff is just arguing for the sake of arguing (and thing about doctors and nurses is what I’ve come up with to respond to people who argue with me in public if it happens again, which so far it hasn’t). I threw away the card…

Day 105: I finished 30 days of Yoga with Adriene just now–didn’t even skip any days, as it turned out. It wasn’t too hard and I really enjoyed it except, sadly, today. The last day had no voice cues, the idea being we are ready to move independently except of course I’m not really. The best thing about Adriene is her top-notch, careful cuing and her funny little asides–I don’t watch the video all that closely, because I find it hard to get the exact shapes from looking and also how can you look at all in downward dog? So having just the visual today was nearly impossible to follow and a sad anti-climax. That said, the other 29 days were a delight and after a little break, I’ll probably do one of her other 30 day challenges, as my office announced an extension of our closure, the gym shows no sign of opening, and Adriene has done a few of these. Also, now that she’s such a regular in my YouTube feed, some of her guest appearances on other channels come up in my recommendations and last night when I was bored, i watched her do something called “foundations of salad,” which was very depressing. Both that people in their thirties might not know how to make salad dressing and that anyone might need a warning that a teaspoon of fruit vinegar, added to a dressing, sprinkled over a salad, and shared among several people, “contains sugar, so watch out.” What are the yoga peoples’ *lives*? Maybe I don’t want to know. The meditation app has gone berserk (not a sentence you see every day)–it and I agree that I started using it on June 11, but it keeps congratulating me on my “28 day streak” of meditations, which does not conform to the space-time continuum. That said, it’s been pretty enjoyable and easy to use, although I don’t know if I’m getting any calmer yet. Maybe it takes longer than fake-28-days. This is Headspace, if you are looking for recos. It also has some exercise videos in the app, which I’ve tried and are pretty bad, at least if you aren’t already knowledgable about those specific exercises. There’s some guided cardio (just walks and runs plus mindfulness) that are all right.Adriene the yoga teacher, Andy the meditation teacher, the couple who argues loudly in the park every night around 9:30–these are the stars of my quarantine constellation lately. Also the The Dean on community. Who are yours?

Day 105: On time and its new meaninglessness: I have always worn a watch when I am out of the house. When I was a little kid, my parents weren’t keen on buying me things, but I always had a cheap digital watch, which my father endeavored to keep set to right time. My father was absolutely maniacal about timepieces and their settings but my mother always wears a watch to go out as well. In our family, a woman has a plain everyday watch and then a second, pretty watch that is really almost like a bracelet that tells time, for wearing with dress clothes when the plain watch won’t do, because of course you can’t go to a fancy party or the opera without a watch. For my fifth birthday, I received such a watch, a tiny little gold Cartier one, which I wore on special occasions for close to 25 years (you don’t give a child a gold watch unless you know that is a VERY CAREFUL child), with several band changes. At that point, I switched to wearing my maternal grandmother’s “good watch,” and wore that for a number of years, including on my wedding day (I suppose it seems weird that I felt I needed to wear a watch on my wedding day, but it actually seems weird to me that some people don’t!) but gradually that very old watch stopped keeping even sort of approximately the right time. I’m sure it did well by my grandma, and by me for a long time, but it was often more than 20 minutes off at the end–hopeless. Over the years my everyday watches have been a variety of Timexes, Fitbits, whatever was on sale at Zellers. Once when I had a skin irritation I actually tried not wearing a watch for a bit–after all, phones tell time. However, when people take out their phones to check the time, many of them turn into rude monsters and ignore whoever it is they were just talking to–it turns out I am no exception. I bought another Timex, this time with some prize money from a literary award, which makes me happy. But for ages I didn’t have a “good watch,” so just before the pandemic started, I told Mark I would like a new one for my birthday this year. He got me a really pretty one, although by that point I hadn’t been wearing a watch at all for months–I’m always home, near a clock or my computer, and there’s no one here to offend if I accidentally get distracted scrolling on my phone. This is the first year I haven’t had a pale stripe in my tan on my left wrist. It’s so weird. I’ve had the new dressy watch for a month and not worn it anywhere, so yesterday when I went to Canadian Tire to get tomato stakes and potting soil, I wore it there. I don’t think anyone was impressed, but I felt fancy, and it kept great time. I hope we are heading back to a world where time matters, sooner rather than later.

(2) So in trivial but annoying news, a table in my apartment just collapsed. Not entirely unexpected–I paid $40 for it in 2004–but annoying all the same. Where do tables come from in a pandemic? This now-dead specimen came from Ikea but I don’t really want to go there right now. The role of said table in my home is to support plants, so it sort of an important one.

Day 106: If you meet a man who is not only willing to brush his cat’s teeth but will gaze at the scratching, biting, flailing cat as he brushes and say, “I love you,” reader, marry him.

Day 107: We went to a restaurant patio last night. The last time we dined out as a couple was March 7. I was really really hesitant but Mark wanted to try, and I sort of did too, so, we did. It was good! The restaurant had hand sanitizer at the gate and pretty much ordered us (warmly) to use it, and instead of menus had QR codes so we could read the menu on our phones without touching anything. The tables were well spaced, though I didn’t think they were quite six feet. The food was great and the staff all wore masks and seemed cheerful. I felt very strange not wearing a mask myself but, of course, we were eating so we couldn’t. Everyone eating seemed very cheerful. We were near the Village and it seemed most people were celebrating Pride. It seemed very warm and nice.I think many people will feel it’s too soon for them to be out at restaurants and if that’s your call, I think it’s reasonable–I could yet backtrack and decide it’s too soon for me too! If you choose to be out, I think it’s worth supporting businesses that are trying to make a go of it in a very hard time–I’ve seen some really nasty calls for small businesses to just give up and not reopen because of the risks involved. But we live in capitalism, which I’m not crazy about but that’s what we’ve got, so there are compromises to be made. My compromise is spending money thoughtfully, and tipping a lot. Our charming cheerful server did not sign up for a job with that level of risk and challenge when he was hired, and we tipped in recognition of that. As Mark put it, “You can’t not be generous.”We probably won’t dine out again anytime soon–I had a nice time but it was so stressful! But it was a good first experience, anyway. The restaurant was The Blake House on Jarvis if that interests you. Happy Pride!

ay 108: I rode the subway yesterday for the not-very-manyth time of the pandemic. If you, like me, used to ride the TTC most days and are now down to a couple times a month, fyi, there are posters advertising a new policy saying that masks will be required on TTC vehicles starting July 2. It could be I’m just really out of the loop but I didn’t know anything about this before yesterday–I don’t think the policy has been well-advertised outside of TTC properties, which, as I say, I no longer frequent. I could just have easily have taken that trip next weekend as this and the policy already been in effect. Which would have been fine for me–I always wear a mask–but if you are requiring something not everyone has in order to get access to an essential service, I just think it should be really really well advertised. I’d say about half the sparse travellers on the TTC were masked last night, which brings up another point, which is who among TTC staff is well-paid enough to intercept every second passenger and argue with them about mask wear? Also, if someone is rushing to somewhere important and has no mask but would be willing to wear one, will the TTC provide it? Or will they actually be prevented from travel? Because I see that going poorly. Mark saw a brutal reaction from someone who was being prevented from shoplifting this weekend, and everyone knows you can’t shoplift (though I wish that had gone differently)–being prevented from doing something you thought was ok is likely to elicit a lot of strong reactions. There’s also a footnote on the posters that you don’t have to wear a mask if you have a breathing problem, but not info on how you prove that or if proof is even required. Hopefully you would be taken at your word on something like that, but that’s not often how such things go.To be clear, I think people who can should wear masks in situations where we have no choice but to be close to each other, and the TTC is certainly one of those. But I’m very concerned about how this policy is being effected and I feel like there’s going to be a lot of selective confrontations on the TTC in the next little while, and I know from the fare enforcement officers approach to these things earlier in this year, that there’s a strong opportunity for racial discrimination and other abuses here.I’m worried.

Day 109: I took that photo of myself with the lipstick on yesterday and was pleased about being able to wear it with a mask. And I haven’t generally felt I looked cute in a while and have been so worried about masks and it all just felt like a big victory and culminated in me scrolling the Maybelline New York instagram page to see if they’ve figured out those Matte Ink lipsticks don’t rub off on masks. They didn’t seem to so I…wrote them a PM letting them know and urging them to share the good news so more people would wear masks. I even wrote them a little tagline they could use, which I will not be sharing here because it’s very embarrassing. This all happened over the course of a little 10 minute work break yesterday afternoon and then I didn’t think much more about it. Yesterday was actually a pretty good day for pandemic me…I thought…and then 7 hours later Mark and I were unwinding at the end of the day, and I told him about it. It was only as I heard the words aloud that I realized, “Oh no, that’s bananas.” I asked Mark if he ever thought he would end up married to an adult woman who would be writing to one of the largest brands in the world, for whom she does not work, to offer them unsolicited marketing help. I started the message “Dear Maybelline.” HELP!If you would have told me I’d be in lockdown for 109 days, I would have known it would be bad but not bad in this exact way.

Day 112: Good lord, it’s July–also today is the last day of week 16. If you are keeping careful track, you’ll note I was miscounting earlier in the week but forgive me, it’s very hot and the count is very high now. We used the day off yesterday to have a picnic because what else is there to do, really? We at least tried a new park, for variety’s sake–this one filled with young families and kids, unlike our usual, which is more hipster-y. I ended up watching the kids and their parents like TV–I’ve really missed hanging out with small people over the past 16 weeks! There were a lot of hijinx and a lot of parents trying hard despite clearly being over everything after a 112 parenting marathon. Highlights include:–a little girl whose parents were trying to pick a good spot for a picnic who said every area they considered was “a secret spot.” She also said to another child that she had “super fast legs for running” and had ruler-straight bangs. –children trying to fly a kite with modest success attempting to run around a tree and not knowing why they couldn’t get any farther–when do children understand how…objects work? –an English child pronouncing “Daddy” with an accent. He was actually complaining about his bike, but it sounded way fancier to say Daddy 30 times in a row with an English accent.–when the little girl from the first bullet realized she was not going to have much fun at her picnic because her parents’ other child was a newborn, the father called over some slightly older neighbourhood children he appeared to know slightly and asked if his girl could run around with them. They agreed and he instructed “don’t take your eyes off her” and as they ran off, one kid appeared to take this literally, sprinting while darting his gaze back and forth between the path ahead and his new companion every second or two. –the English family had THREE children under 6 and the littlest one, of perhaps 2, broke free and got pretty far without anyone noticing. I panicked when he appeared determined to throw himself off a low retaining wall, and was about to recruit Mark to go scoop him up when a dogfight broke out at the base of the wall and the little one wisely retreated. The second time he made a play for the wall, his father noticed and ran after him in a panic, so I think I was not inventing drama. –speaking of dogs, a small schnauzer attempted to join our party briefly and its owner called him away by saying, “They have important things to talk about.” (we didn’t)–several families had this strange kind of bike with two wheels up front and a sort of bin in between the front wheels, into which they’d put picnic trappings but also small children. At first I thought the babies were simply loose in the bin but eventually I saw that there were actually straps to secure them in there. –There actually were some hipsters in this park and they were talking about their young-people drama behind us more or less throughout our visit, but I did not care and forgot to eavesdrop–kids are where it’s at.

August 4th, 2020

How to take a compliment (for writers) (mainly)

There’s something bananas in our culture where it’s clearly written that we should say nice things to each other but there’s just so little in the etiquette books about how to respond to those nice things. Consequently, some people have gotten the idea that compliments, praise, and kind words might be best rejected or repudiated or otherwise smashed out of hand. Especially those of us who are not encouraged to think too highly of ourselves to start with (women).

The worst incident of smash-the-compliment I’ve ever seen occurred in first-year-university when my friend C did my makeup. When other friends turned up, they commented on how nice I looked. Desperate to deflect the compliment, I said all credit must go to C for having done such a nice job on my makeup. C, having not expected this, panicked and said she wasn’t even that good at makeup and had in fact done quite a bad job on mine, completely screwing up the eyes.

We’d already left for an evening out at this point, and I had thought I looked rather nice, as indeed I probably did. But we all had to stand there, marinating in the fact that C had said I looked bad in order to somehow be modest herself. It was a weird night.

It is so very difficult, if you grew up with this nonsense drilled into you–“try very hard to be amazing, but if anyone mentions it, act like it’s all a complete surprise or accident”–to have someone say “you’re great” or “something you’ve done is great” and just say “thank you” because that is like saying “yes, it’s true, I’m great and what’s more, I did it on purpose.”

This is what’s awkward (one of many awkward things) about publishing a book, because even trying to do so, even submitting a sample chapter, is synonymous with saying, “I think many people would benefit from spending a number of hours reading many many words that I wrote, clean out of my brain. I think they would enjoy that, and what’s more that they would pay money so that they could enjoy those words from my brain.”

What a claim! What confidence, what self-assurance, what pride! And yet we do it, nervously, quietly, slogging away in the shadows, and so no one really knows how prideful we are until one day the. book. comes. out.

If you are going to have a book in the world, people are going to say stuff about it, often quite nice things. ASSUME NICE THINGS! And be ready. If an author goes around muttering how their book isn’t that great and people who like it have made a mistake or are lying they are a) really undermining the marketing team and the publishing house that invested in the book b) insulting the person who gave the compliment by implying they wasted their time and also do not have the discernment to compliment accurately c) making themselves look like a sort of confusing con artist who took so much time and effort to get the book into into the hands of strangers while saying they knew the whole time that it wasn’t good.

I have, through trial and error and so many awkward conversations, come up with some things to say about my work that aren’t just utter self-abnegation, and that allow the conversation to go forth in a reasonable manner, and also aren’t just crowing about how great I am. Because honestly, here is a secret–I like my work. Not all of it but most, I think is good, and I truly think that’s the only way to publish–sometimes I read it myself. I do! I mean, it’s so hard to write anything at all. Why would I do it unless I saw some value in it. So I don’t announce to strangers, “yes, my work is excellent, wouldn’t you agree?” but I don’t say, “it’s worthless, burn it,” though the culture sort of urges me to do the latter and my heart a little of both, depending on the day. Here are the compromises I’ve come up with.

When people say they are planning to read my work or considering reading it, my instinct is always to let them off the hook, imply they needn’t bother or if they are doing it to make me happy or because they think I expect it, don’t worry about it. It’s bananas, my assumption that they don’t actually want to or worse, that they won’t be happy if they do. Instead I try therapy’s old friend, I statements. Own your feelings!

• That’s great!
• I’m curious to hear what you think!
• I hope you enjoy it!

Very simple, gentle, friendly things to say that don’t get us into a guilt-ridden extended back-and-forth where you have to beg permission to read a book that I struggled for years to make available to readers.

Worse, sometimes people tell me they have read my book and they did enjoy it. My go-to used to be “That’s so kind of you,” which turned out not to be good because people don’t like to feel their honest critical reactions are being construed as kindness or condescension. Here are some better options.

• That makes me so happy to hear!
• That means a lot to me!
• Thank you for taking the time to tell me that!
• I appreciate hearing that!
• And the good old classic, Thank you!

In an even more amazing turn, sometimes an external good thing will happen to my book–an award nod, an excellent review, a second printing or well, there’s lots of great things out there that can happen to a book. My previous go-to, “I feel so lucky!” has been sort of taken out of circulation because people don’t congratulate for luck, they congratulate for achievements, and honestly, I have to own at least part of these as achievements even if I will insist in my private heart there’s a luck aspect to most of them. That’s not really quick-conversation fare. So if someone says congratulations on any of these types of things, I tell them…

• I was so pleased to hear it!
• It’s good news, isn’t it?
• It means a lot to me!
• I’m happy to have good news to share with you!
• I’m happy to have good news to share with my publisher, who believed in this book.
• I was surprised, but thrilled!
• Thanks for mentioning something that makes me so happy!
• Thanks for thinking of it.
• And, of course, just plain Thank you! works fine.

And finally, there will be those occasions where something doesn’t break my way, or my book’s way, and someone expresses sorrow and tells me that it should have, or that they wanted it to. Prize nominations, more attention, whatever. Sometimes I wanted it too and am sad, sometimes the thought didn’t cross my mind until this person brought it up (sigh!) but it’s usually well meant, and anyway, what can you do. These are the most awkward conversations but interlocutors at least understand why one wants to diffuse. They also repay being well-read, because it’s so much easier if you can honestly say whoever did get the prize or the big whatever really deserved it. If you can’t say that (either because you just don’t think it or because you don’t know) here’s some other thoughts:

• I appreciate your support for my book.
• The book didn’t get x but it did get y [other nice success-type thing].
• And again, thank you is always a winner!

I wrote this post because I haven’t published anything in a while and am just out of practice and then someone completely blindsided me with a lot of joyful enthusiasm for my work when I wasn’t ready and I responded really awkwardly! It was fun but I wish I had responded better to what was a truly lovely reception to my book. A good reading is worth it’s weight in gold and certainly deserves a polite and friendly response, which is something usually fine at giving in the time right after a book comes out, but then I get rusty, so this is reminder for me and anyone else who needs it. Don’t downplay your work, don’t hide your light under a bushel, and thank anyone who gives your work an honest compliment. They deserve it and so do you!

July 20th, 2020

Pandemic Diary June 13 to June 22

Hmm, seem to have fallen somewhat behind here…

Day 94: This was the best weekend of the pandemic because we had a physically distant visit with Kurt and Gaelan and kids in their yard and other than the slight awkwardness of trying to step away when a kid came hurtling near me and remember to only eat out of my own snack receptacle, it was exactly like our previous visits, which honestly I always knew were pretty lovely but still I did not appreciate enough. It was so so so very nice. And then this morning me and Carolyn Black hung out in the park and talked, and if you discounted the six feet between us and the masks, it was also something we might have done any time–the greatest. And then I saw my mom walking by on the path, and went pelting down the hill yelling, “Mom! Mom!” but she didn’t stop, because I suppose anyone could be mom, but then I yelled “Mominator!” and she turned and we talked for a minute too. It was SO many people for one weekend.

I feel really stocked up on in-person interaction and positive energy and hope I can keep this vibe going as the week begins. I am also going to try downloading all my files and working from the park when the jackhammering gets too much and taking Lindsey Patten‘s advice to order some soundproof earmuffs–proactive at last! We shall see….

(2)

One of the things I see going wrong for very beginning writers is lack of trust that a reader will infer anything that isn’t directly stated on the page. Back in the dark ages when I was doing manuscript assessments, many for writers who may never have shown their work to anyone before, I would often seen good, clear prose describing in minute detail everything a character wore, ate, thought, and saw in a morning, a day, all because it happened, the day passed in that way and the writer hadn’t yet learned how to summarize through to the important details and pick those out in scene. It serves no purpose to plot, character development, even scene setting–it’s just clunky mechanics of getting set up to do those other things that actually serve the story.

I say “beginning writers” but I ALWAYS find this stuff when I revise a draft of my own. It’s so disheartening that even the lessons I’ve already learned I don’t follow. Characters walking towards things, getting dressed, thinking about what to do next. Descriptions of, ugh, I don’t know, rooms and stuff. Trees. Cut cut cut. And of course, it all has to go into a special cut file in case I was right the first time and it all actually IS somehow important. But it isn’t.

Day 95: I am trying Jennifer Paul‘s advice to listen to white noise on Spotify, which I thought would entail getting a Spotify account, but it seems I already have one. It took a while to get back into it, since I didn’t recall my password, username, or the fake date of birth I set up the account with (this must be from around the time someone told me data breach identity theft is most dangerous if they get your real date of birth so you shouldn’t use it for trivial accounts, but the one time i actually remembered not to). ANYWAY, I finally logged in and found I had a library of two songs, both by Imagine Dragons for some reason. The whole thing is puzzling and I don’t remember any of it.

I’ve been surfing around in the white noise section but haven’t really made a dent–there’s so much! There’s such a thing as pink noise, which is terrifying to listen to, and brown noise, which sounds like the inside of an airplane at cruising altitude–pleasant enough, but doesn’t actually drown anything out. I’m in the baby sleep sounds section now, which doesn’t bode well for getting work done, so I may just switch to music. More on this as I research it.

(2)

I was feeling irritated because people are doing that thing in my building where they stand beside a door looking as if they are just basking in the beauty of our weird foyer and then if someone goes to open it, they suddenly remember they actually wanted to go out and rush forward and get in your way. This is of course because the door is too gross for them to touch, but not too gross for others to touch. It’s a pet peeve of mine but in these thin-skinned days, I resent it deeply.

However.

Then I logged into Twitter. And there are MUCH more unsettling things afoot. So I remain distressed, but at least it’s over something important now.

Day 96: Yesterday was pretty pleasant because there was no jackhammering at all in the morning. The construction crew was doing other noisy things, but all at least somewhat less noisy than jackhammers. I’m not sure why, possibly to give the people who actually live in the building being jackhammered a break (Yes, they are still there, I can see their lights go on in the evening–I feel for them a lot!) And then in the afternoon they started up again but I had my white-noise track research and then only a couple hours in, the building caught fire, and they had to stop. Obviously, this wasn’t a good outcome, and there must have been real concern because there were half a dozen fire trucks and the street blocked off (also many sirens, which weren’t exactly quiet) but the building wasn’t evacuated so it couldn’t have been that dire, and it did end construction for the afternoon. Unfortunately, this seems to have put things behind schedule, as the hammers were back right first thing this morning.

Forgive me for talking so much about the construction–it is so loud I think about it constantly. Also there is little else going on. I’m on day 21 of the yoga challenge, it’s going well, and day 6 of the meditation, which is a slower start but seems to help a bit. I took the winter blankets to the dry cleaner, so that’s progress and also a new place to go. Ummm…that may be all. Anyone else go anything exciting going on?

(2)

I’ve been thinking about the first ever out of town literary event I did, mainly because I’m spending all my time in my office and I have a poster up for it in here. Want to hear the story?

It was a bit before my first book came out and I’d only published a couple stories–it was perhaps only my 3rd or 4th public appearance at all. A librarian invited me to appear and said I could take a bus and they’d pay for it, but the bus would leave at dawn and get me there at the start of the business day. She promised that would be fine, which turned out to mean I could sit in the library and read. I was supposed to take a cab from the bus station by myself, which is one of my phobias–I can’t remember whether I ended up walking or just really really wanted to. I stayed in the library for about 4 hours, bought a sandwich and snuck it back in to eat because I couldn’t think where else to go. Keep in mind that I was nearly 30 at this point, and had taken an unpaid day off work to do this.

When the other panelists arrived, they were a bit surprised to find me in a tiny rabbit warren of my own making in the library with my half-eaten sandwich, but everyone greeted me cordially–some I knew already and all would continue to be friendly to me for years after, whenever we met. They were all men, and older than me. The panel seemed like the most important thing that had ever happened–the discussion so fast and ardent, the men so impassioned. I didn’t say much, but I tried to speak up when they criticized things I like, and I recall pursuing someone out into the hall after to make a point I hadn’t quite made in front of the audience. He was startled, but respectful. I don’t remember anything about the audience, but since I don’t recall anyone being sad about there not being one, I assume people showed up and watched the panel.

As everyone put on their coats and chatted, the friendly librarian said goodbye and I stood quavering, hoping that someone would offer me a ride to the bus station so I wouldn’t have to brave a cab or figure out how to walk it. My bus was in something like three hours–I was looking forward to building another burrow, buying another sandwich. Instead it was announced that we were all going to yet another writer’s home; he hadn’t made it to the panel but surely would want to see us. Us, me too? I mentioned the bus in three hours and was met with bafflement but yes, yes, of course, someone would drive me then.

The new writer had a very nice house and was very suave. Everyone was referring to him by a diminutive and I didn’t work out who it actually was until much later. I was handed a glass of wine without being asked–I don’t drink, but since I was thirsty I licked at it a bit and eventually put some tapwater in to make it potable to me. The host actually caught me at that and found some Perrier. I don’t think I said much during the conversation but I remember kneeling awkwardly in my pretty panel clothes at the coffee table to take some crackers and cheese–no one else was eating. I was so worried they would forget about my bus but very kindly someone got up in lots of time and drove me and I got to go home. I can’t remember if I got any dinner other than that cheese, but other than that, it was all fine. I think I was paid a little something for this event but I can’t swear it, and even if I was, it wouldn’t have been equal to the day’s wages I lost in being there. I think I got home just in time to go to bed.

I don’t know if I’m conveying it properly but that was just a really great, important day for me. Meeting people as a writer, people I would never have spoken to otherwise, and have them include me in the conversation and take me seriously, was huge for me, and even though the day was bizarre and exhausting and 14 hours long, it seemed like this miraculous coup. It’s a nice memory and I feel lucky thinking of it.

Day 97: So Saturday will be 100 days of lockdown. A few things have loosened slightly for me–the occasional park or yard visit, a few more stores–but by and large I am still doing this and will be for the foreseeable future. So, since I know a lot of you started just before or just after me, any suggestions for a 100 days celebration? Anything to boost morale, really. With all our noise problems, the 7:30 cheer, which I love in theory, is starting to make me want to cry and shut the window in practice. I’m looking for a quiet celebration, ideally.

In good news, the jackhammerers seem to have gotten quite a bit done while i was in the shower this morning–I think they are starting to cut some corners but I’ll take it. They are nearly done the balcony-edge smashing they have been working on since last week, and I don’t know if that could be the end of the loud part of the project or if that’s too much to hope for–it would be crushing if the next phase were sandblasting or yodelling or something. My building also tested the fire alarm this morning because of course. Mark Sampson is at work today; cats seem morose.

(2)

One of the relatively minor casualties of the pandemic for me is eavesdropping–I love to hear other voices, random snippets of conversation, other lives. I popped into the corner store for a drink and a snack, something I haven’t done in months but was feeling sorry for myself, and was rewarded with this gem:

Cashier (middle-aged woman with thick accent): Hello, hello, it’s good to see you. It’s been a long time!
Patron (middle-aged woman with thick, very different accent): Yes, yes, it is good to see you too.
C: Soon your husband is coming, yes? Then you will be so happy!
P: Oh, no, no, he is here now! He came already!
C: Oh really? Already?
P: Yes, yes. He works with me in the hospital.
C: Wow, you must be so happy!
P: Yes, I am very happy! You never meet him yet?
C: No, I don’t think so.
P: You will sometime. I bring him.
C: Maybe he come alone and I didn’t know it was your husband.
P: No, not alone.
C: No?
P: No, he can’t go alone. He new.

(3)

I was thinking about last night’s post, the one about the literary event, which is such a good memory for me, and I have lots of others like it. What’s weird and sad about it is that, knowing what I know now, 12 years later, if a young woman told me she was invited to a writing event and then after a group of male writers who were older than her and more powerful, offered to take her to a stranger’s house for wine and conversation, and she wouldn’t have her own transportation or any real sense of the city, I might say, “Oh, hey, maybe just go to the bus station and eat a stale sandwich.” Everyone I met that evening was really genuinely sweet to me, but there’s plenty of stories that start exactly like that but don’t end that way.

One thing predatory men have done is ruin, or at least seriously impinge upon, women’s ability to just do whatever they feel like, or at least, whatever seems like a good idea in the moment. And it’s not like nothing bad ever happened to me from just going along with things, but nothing THAT bad ever did–because I’m lucky, is why. I have lots of weird experiences–I could rattle off a list of abusers who, in the dark past, were nice in a limited circumstance to me (does that sound like a brag?? it isn’t) I hope I never steered anyone wrong, and I’ve always tried to listen and learn, but there’s always so much more I don’t know.

Anyway, if that story last night was the source of more suspense than I meant it to be for anyone, I’m sorry, and I also want to say that I am aware of stories different than my own. I never want to be one of those jerks who say, “Well, it worked out great for me, so what are you so nervous about?” because that’s not how life is, I do realize.

Day 98: I think I have perfected my morning routine. The rest of the day is less ideal, and also boring (just working, preparing and eating food, occasionally going for walks and harassing the cats) but this is good. I’m not sure it rates sharing with FB feed, but honestly, I don’t have a lot that does these days, so here you go:

Wake up, do waking up meditation with app, take myriad supplements and pills, put on gym clothes, go out on the balcony to water plants/make sure squirrels haven’t eaten them, feed cats, get cottage cheese, eat cottage cheese in Mark’s office while interrupting his work, do yoga, do some other exercise, shower, get dressed, get coffee (or have Mark bring me coffee), eat some other breakfast to supplement the cottage cheese, start working…less interesting from there.

Have these little set-day challenges for the meditation and yoga is really helpful–I love a structure. The meditation app emailed me this morning to let me know I’d done 10 days in a row (I certainly knew that) and to say that if I did 15 days in a row, I would get a prize, which is basically catnip to me. I feel fairly certain that the prize is some other kind of meditation or possibly just an email from the app saying congratulations, but I don’t care–I want it. We all need something to strive for.

(2) Now in noise news: the jackhammering on this side of the building across the street did not take place today. I don’t want to speculate on whether it’s over, because the disappointment would be too great if it isn’t, but it weren’t, but we got a day off anyway. There was jackhammering somewhere nearby, possibly the far side of the building, but it was much more tolerable from that distance. There was also:
–actual hammering
–a truck backing up on and off for close to an hour
–several sirens, including one at 3am
–a melodramatic but brief argument in the park
–an unhappy dog
So, a relatively quiet day for this area. I want it noted for the record that, pre-pandemic, I had a relatively high noise tolerance and used to live in front of the spot on Spadina where the streetcar went into the tunnel and never cared. Lockdown in Saint James Town is a whole new level!

Day 99: So it turns out tomorrow is, in addition to day 100 of lockdown, summer solstice. It’s at 5:43pm, if you are into that. So two friends and I have decided to go to a park in our masks and form an equilateral triangle with 6-foot sides and enjoy the moment together. Then I will go home and Mark has promised to make me a fancy milkshake drink that involves crumbling a cooking inside the drink. I made the cookies yesterday, so as long as it doesn’t rain, everything is coming together. I think it will be a good 100 days/solstice celebration. If you celebrate too, I love to hear about it, and happy approach of the sun to you!

Happy 100 days and happy solstice! It’s lovely although hot here in Saint James Town, and noisy but not too noisy. I was sidelined with a migraine yesterday, the worst I’ve had in my pandemic period, which is interesting since I actually haven’t had many/severe migraines at all in this period. Probably somewhat random and somewhat because whenever I’ve felt a little ill, I’ve just been able to rest instead pushing through and letting it get worse. Which just goes to show how different everyone’s experience of this period has been, because my statement that I’ve had extra time to rest is probably making all the frontline workers and parents of young kids laugh sadly right now.

More on personal relativism and migraines: When you have a chronic pain condition, doctors are always trying to get you to rate the pain on a scale of 0-10, with 0 of course being no pain and 10 being “the worst pain I’ve ever felt.” When I first saw this, I kept reserving the higher numbers for things I hadn’t experienced, like labour and heart attacks. It took me a long time, and a lot of inaccurate pain scales, to be convinced that my personal 10 was just the worst *for me* and even if I someday encounter a worse pain, I can just move the 10 and recalibrate the other numbers. I have NO IDEA what such a scale informs doctors of, but several have insisted that’s the most informative way to explain a migraine to them.

This makes the number scale fairly useless in talking to anyone other than my medical team though–even other migraine sufferers mean something entirely different by their scales. Yesterday was maybe a 5-6, which to me means I could just about function to do basic tasks but given the option (I had the afternoon off) I dozed for several hours and didn’t even really want to read or have a longer conversation until early evening.

I feel strongly that there’s a metaphor here somewhere but I can’t quite nail it–anyone? Anyway, I’m feeling fine today–time for some restorative yoga!

(2) Evan both loves the #catio because he knows it’s cooler outside and he wants it I be near us and hates it because he has noticed he is in a cage. The plants have to be arranged like that because if they are closer he will spend all his time trying to reach through the bars and destroy them out of sheer spite. #catsofinstagram

Day 102: Weekend was ok, though hot. Had a nice picnic, noticed Mark Sampson had brought all our cheese knives except the lost one, restarted argument about Mark losing the knife. Another (distanced) picnic participant pointed out that it could have been me that lost the knife, which caused me to begin listing other things Mark has lost or destroyed, as precedent for the knife was probably also his fault. Conversation was able to proceed to a better note, others eventually left, I felt guilty for constantly harping on this issue.

RR: It doesn’t even matter–people don’t need cheese knives.
MS: I like cheese knives.
RR: We could cut and spread cheese with butter knives, our lives would be the same.
MS: I like the cheese knives! I didn’t mean to lose it…if in fact I lost it! And we still have three…
RR: Yes. I should dwell on the three cheese knives we do have.
MS: Come on, fold up the blanket, it’s time to go.
RR: And yet the three cheese knives aren’t making me happy. It’s still a pandemic. I’m still a sad woman on a blanket.
MS: …
RR: This blanket is 23 years old.
MS: It is?
RR: Yes. It was my bedspread in first-year university. I never lose anything.
MS: Well…
RR: Pretty much. But having a 23-year-old picnic blanket is not making me happy.

(2) note: This quiz is one of my most responded-to FB posts ever–so many replies, each and every one of which delighted me. If you have read this far in this very long post on the blog, please consider cut-and-pasting the quiz somewhere (like the comments) and answering it so that I can be delighted once again!

Regionalisms quiz: I’ve asked some of these before but here they are all together, 2020 edition. Please join me in this time-killing activity if your brain also works this way. Feel free to share–I’ve made it public just in case this can be the one thing I do that ever goes viral.

1) Where did you learn to speak English?
2) (optional, of course) how old are you?
3) What do you call the following things?
a) knives/forks/spoons/things you use to eat food
b) the square of terrycloth you clean yourself with
c) furniture with drawers you store clothes in
d) when you push someone on a swing by running underneath them
e) plastic thing babies suck on when they are fussy
f) lawn-mower you can sit on
g) garment you wrap yourself in after a shower or immediately after getting up in the morning
h) kind of dark grey/black paving that most city roads are made of
i) the strip of grass or other plants between the sidewalk and the street (I realize a lot of people don’t call this anything; only answer if you grew up believing there’s a word for this)
j) a room between outside and the main room
k) carbonated beverage
l) long piece of furniture in your living room that you sit on
m) small store that is open long hours and sells limited food, drinks, newspapers and lottery tickets
4) Bonus question #1: If you know a word with a fun regional variation that I haven’t put here, please add it!
5) Bonus question #2: What condiment goes on macaroni and cheese?

June 18th, 2020

Pandemic Diary: June 1 to June 12

The previous diary somehow covered only half of June 1, so here is the rest of it…oops…

Day 81 (2): A chunk of my job is assigning work. Even in situations where I’m not “in charge,” I still often have to tell people what needs to come next–it’s just part of working in an assembly-line sort of structure. Every now and again, someone will simply not do part of what I’ve asked and/or do some other random thing instead. Sometimes it is because they are confused or sloppy or ran out of time, and sometimes it is because I’ve made an error, not given them some piece of information they needed to do the task or explained it wrong, and they were too scared to ask me about it (people being scared of me is rare, but it does happen). Over the years, I’ve learned I shouldn’t assume anything…but I’ve never learned how to ask, “So, why did you do it wrong?” gracefully. Thoughts?

(3) I’m going to be putting my remaining seedlings out as a giveaway later this week, probably on Thursday (taking a page from the clever and generous Jess Taylor). I still have many many tomatoes, both Italian and cherry, and a few arugula. Of course you’re welcome to just come grab some when I do that, but if you had a particular interest in anything, I’m willing to come meet you somewhere before Thursday if that’s easier for you and I can walk there carrying seedlings–I’d just put them down on the ground and walk away so no contact. A few people mentioned interest or were possibly humouring me, I don’t know–no worries if the latter, but if you did want some, please speak now! They are enormous and friendly, they definitely want to come live with you and make delicious salads! (Oh my god, pandemic loneliness!)

Day 82: Day 82: In honour of #BlackOutTuesday I will not be posting my usual nonsense. It has been hard to watch the events of the past few days in the US and here as well. I don’t have anything insightful to say, but I’m trying to pay attention, read and watch as much as I can, not look away from the things that are burning and broken, and to think about ways to do better, myself.

Day 83: I have been struggling to understand some of the US news stories so I called my mother to ask her the difference between the National Guard and the Army–there was such horror when Trump threatened to deploy the Army to put down the anti-racist rebellion in US cities, but the NG has already been called in in many places (23 was the last number I heard). Aren’t they the military? My mom explained it to me and I filled in the gaps with google, per below, and then I added a couple more definitions also below in case they can help anyone. I realize a lot of folks know this stuff already–feel free to ignore–but also some don’t and don’t have my mom’s number. Also please correct me if I’m off on something (likely) or add anything that seems useful if you care to!

National Guard: NG is technically part of the US military but it is state-based–people serve in the states where they are from and governors have power over the Guard (so does the president). Also, NG can maintain civilian jobs and a large part of their commitment is not active duty but reserve time. So possibly they are seen as less menacing than the actual army, but they go through basic training and many (not all) carry weapons. If the National Guard is sent in against against protesters, don’t let the rhetoric fool you–it is definitely trained soldiers against people with strong beliefs holding placards.

Tear Gas: is obviously a gas contained in a little bomb that gets thrown or shot into crowds. The gas irritates the eyes, nose, throat and lungs. It makes it hard to see, which everyone knows, but also hard to breathe if you breathe enough of it, and if you have a pre-existing condition like asthma you could have serious trouble. If it gets in your eyes you need to wash it out, although water doesn’t help. I was taught to wash it out with a solution of half water, half milk of magnesia, which you pour into a held-open eye (held with perfectly clean hands or gloves), which I’m told (I have not done this) is even harder than it sounds because the person you are doing it to will be in pain and perhaps unable to hold still. This is obviously hard to achieve in a panicky, crowded protest situation. You could see clouds of tear gas in the video from Montreal Sunday night, among other places. Again, it is important to remember that the people who are gassed with this agent that can cause severe pain and in rare cases death are civilians, often whose only crime is trespassing. Also a common cause of death-by-tear gas (says Wikipedia) is when a canister of it is shot indiscriminately into a crowd and hits someone in the face or skull.

Kettling: kettling is a police maneuver where they box a group of people who are not under arrest (possibly yet, possible not) into a small space, either with a ring of police or police plus a structure like a bridge or a fence and do not let people move in or out for food, medical aid, bathrooms, etc. It’s an attempt to intimidate and very effective (and often very unsafe). This is what happened on Swann Street in DC a couple nights ago, although it didn’t really work because they tried to do it in a residential neighbourhood and residents opened their homes to the protesters, breaking open the kettle (once people were in the houses, they could get food, rest, and help for their injuries–if they had had to spend the night on the street monitored by the cops, they would have had none of those things and been incredibly vulnerable–as would we all).

This is some of the stuff I’ve been thinking about that I wanted to share–just the disproportionate tactics being applied to protests. It’s also important to keep in mind that these protests sprang because a Black man was murdered, and the protesters haven’t hurt anyone (that I’ve seen), and yet the tactics to suppress them are so violent. I think sometimes watching the news can feel like it is all very complicated or there’s a lot of sides to every story, especially when the news really emphasizes a few broken windows but…if you’ve ever been to a protest in comfy footwear and maybe a hat and seen a cop coming at you in riot gear, you know there’s something really wrong here…

Day 84: 12 weeks, friends. If the lockdown were a pregnancy, we would be ready to announce the news! Despite being incredibly sad and worried about so many things this week, I have a natural personality pre-set of being fairly focused on minutiae (did you notice?) and the weather has been so pretty this week, so although I remain worried, this morning seems…nice. Here is the minute news of the week at my house:
–Mark went to WORK yesterday, and will probably be working from his office one day a week from now on. It was wild to spend a day alone in the apartment, and to wait until he got home to tell him stuff. I think the cats were a lot calmer without their celebrity heartthrob to follow around.
–the fire alarm went off in the middle of the night for 45 minutes on Tuesday night and also the building across from Mark’s work had an explosion (??) so I’m feeling a little targeted by mysterious forces
–we have managed to get a range of masks now, so we are ready for more workdays or whatever may come. I am ranking the masks from hardest to breathe in to easiest, and a new wrinkle came up yesterday when someone tried to talk to me in my mask for an extended period (normally I mainly wear them at at the grocery or drug store, the only indoor places I go, and no one chats) and I sucked quite a wad of fabric into my mouth trying to speak, so now I need to reorganize my ranking by ease of speech.
–I’ve finished day 9 of 30 days of yoga and am really enjoying it. I’m trying to do some other yoga every day and also some breathing exercises and generally just CALM DOWN. The only thing that sucks is realizing that when I finish the 30 days, if I skip none (unlikely that I won’t wind up skipping eventually), it will be day 115 of the lockdown. I mean, could that happen? Really?
–when people say “decimate,” do they mean lost one tenth of or do they mean lost most of? I try to be really chill about evolving language but I feel that one actually evolved into meaninglessness and now we just can’t use it anymore because no one knows what it means.
–could my good mood be coming from the fact I walked to a park last night and saw Scott A Watson et sa famille to give them a seedling? Quite possibly. It’s good to see friends!

Day 85:

A word about wellness checks–I just wanted to follow on from sue balint ‘s really wise and thoughtful post about Chantel Moore’s death at the hands of police who were supposed to perform a wellness check. Those words sound so happy and healthy, like they’d be above the food pyramid or something, but wellness checks are a known risk in communities where they most often happen and I think that information isn’t as widely known as it should be.

When I worked on crisis lines, including ones where people regularly called to talk about suicidal ideation, there were firm rules about sending emergency services only when there was a known, active, immediate physical risk. Even then, the caller had to know if the risk stayed present, we would call someone to intervene.

I think the temptation with wellness checks for the general public is it’s a way to “help” without “getting involved.” People feel concerned but don’t feel close enough to the situation to intervene or even ask a question. And that’s so so hard in our culture where everyone is supposed to be an island and not “bother” anyone, and often the help we offer is the wrong help and no one will thank you for it, but wellness checks are also the wrong help most of the time.

Why? Because because many vulnerable people have had bad or traumatic interactions with the police and having them show up at their door during an already difficult time without their invitation or consent or even a warning can cause them to be retraumatized. Also, when you are trained to be a hammer, everything looks like a nail–police are trained to confront criminals mainly, not vulnerable people who are hurting and maybe behaving a bit erratically, and so those people wind up getting treated like criminals. Not to mention the terrible cost of the racial bias–and hatred, in many cases–that plays out in too many of these cases.

If you are worried about someone, it’s almost never the first step–or even the last–to involve the police. What can you do? Well, you can offer to visit and hang out with the person for support, if you are close enough and feel you can. Or if that isn’t possible or is unwelcome, you can call, you can text, you can message whatever way you can. You can listen. Or if you can’t or it isn’t enough, you can suggest some other possible listeners…(I made this list a while ago, for a volunteer thing, but I think it’s relevant here; it’s not even close to exhaustive; feel free to add more)

• GoodToTalk offers a free, confidential helpline with professional counselling, information and referrals for mental health, addictions and well-being to post-secondary students. 1-866-925-5454 https://good2talk.ca/
• The LifeLine App is the National free Suicide Prevention and Awareness App that offers access and guidance to support for those suffering in crisis and those who have suffered the devastating loss of a loved one from suicide. The LifeLine App also provides awareness education and prevention strategies to guide people in crisis all across the Globe. https://thelifelinecanada.ca/lifeline-canada-…/lifeline-app/
• The Hope for Wellness Help Line offers immediate mental health counselling and crisis intervention to all Indigenous peoples across Canada in English and French, and in Cree, Ojibway and Inuktitut by request, 24/7. Call 1-855-242-3310 toll-free at any time, or go to hopeforwellness.ca to chat online.
• Trans Lifeline is a national trans-led organization dedicated to improving the quality of trans lives by responding to the critical needs of our community with direct service, material support, advocacy and education to people of all ages. The Lifeline is run 24/7 by trans people for trans and questioning callers. Call 1-877-330-6366.
• Distress Centres of Toronto: 408-HELP (4357) is a 24/7/365 support line where volunteers will talk to any caller about any type emotional distress, up to and including suicidal ideation. The same service can be accessed via text if that is more comfortable for the person at 45645 https://www.torontodistresscentre.com/408-help-line

(2)

I rode the subway today for the third time in these long 85 days, for the third and hopefully final instalment of my tax odyssey this year and…I loved it. The subway is SO soothing, and much easier to read on than a non-moving object. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I’ve never gone more than a week or two without riding the subway since 2002.

Also, at the tax office, the accountant was explaining how they’ve stayed open throughout the pandemic, and instead of saying “Oh, that must have been challenging,” or something normal and kind, I said, “Oh, that must have been really taxing,” and then laughed by saying the words, “Hahaha” very loudly and grinning, which he couldn’t see because I was wearing a mask. He wisely chose to ignore all of this. So my social skills are slipping.

Day 87: Evan has taken to sneaking into the closet and crawling into his kitty carrier, where he remains until forcibly removed. I don’t think any of us want to be here anymore.

Day 88: Some fun facts about me are that I will always make my bed in the morning and that, due to early readings of children’s books from the 1800s that featured beds being “aired” and some viewings of blown-up photos of dust mites, I’ll get up and leave the bed to “air” (whatever that means), go to the gym, come back, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and make the bed the very last thing before running off to work. (please please don’t take this as an implied criticism of other lifestyles and write me notes about how you’ve done things differently and never been eaten by a dust mite; I’m a compulsive person and feel fine that other people aren’t; we can just never be roommates).

Now, of course, in pandemic times, all is chaos and sometimes the bed-making gets pushed a bit later, into kitten-sleep-time. Alice likes to sleep on the bed, and it doesn’t matter to her whether it is made up or not. However, she has noticed with her very tiny mind that does not notice most things (she still doesn’t know what rain is and has been known to try to eat it) that if she sleeps on the bed when it is unmade, sometime later she’ll get woken up so that someone can make it. And so this morning, when I went into the bedroom to get something, instead of sleeping on the unmade bed, Alice was running around beside it, crying at it and then at me. Alice nagged me to make the bed so she could sleep in peace! This is by far the longest logical sequence she has ever been able to put together and execute. I made the bed, very proudly.

(2)

What is with dudes announcing to strangers they see in passing that “you shouldn’t bother with a mask.” I saw this twice in three days (once directed at me, once at someone else). I get it that the odds are low that I would both be an asymptomatic carrier and interact with someone in such a way as to infect them, but it’s very definitely possible. And if ONE person ever got sick because of me, I would be devastated. The research on masks is shifting and if the official science changes and it’s decided they don’t really help, I’m fine to stop wearing them, but otherwise, it’s such a low ask (to be clear, I find even the nicest masks pretty uncomfortable, but manageable) and it sets people at ease when they are stuck near me in the grocery store, so why not?

What is a good answer when someone whizzes by me and says, basically, “try less hard to be considerate of others”??

Day 89: I joined Facebook in 2006, and it was very different then–I had only a few very close friends on here, and we spoke far more in rl than online. Gradually I connected to more people but always people I knew and liked or at least had met and wanted to know better. I always thought of FB as a place to forge personal connections, yes, friendships. I know, I know–but it has actually worked out pretty well for me.

It was during the 2010 Winter Olympics that I realized that some people were using the platform differently than me, in ways I didn’t fully understand. Someone posted that they were “wishing good luck to the Canadian luge team” right before that event, and I honestly thought, “do they know them? are they friends? wait, the lugists are on the top of a mountain, they can’t read Facebook.” (if a decade later, someone identifies themselves as this person, please know I don’t remember whose post this was and I’m not making fun!) I realized this was a form of bankshot communication that I hadn’t seen before–while the athletes would never know or experience this person’s support, *I* would know that my friend cared about luge. They were making a statement about themself while feinting at communicating with someone else, and thus actually communicating in another way with a different group of people. So interesting, right?

If you think you know where I’m going with this, you’re probably right. When I read the corporate statements on Black Lives Matter from various places that have my email address, I wonder about how much of the intent is to genuinely stand with and support the Black community and how much is bankshot communication to their general customer base of whatever colour that we can feel ok about continuing to patronize their business because they are not racist. I’m honestly starting to wonder if Galen Weston is running for office in the near future (if he does, you heard it here first!) And I wonder too about individual “statements” on social media–do we all need to be putting forth a position like stores that need to reassure shoppers? But if I say nothing, does that imply I don’t know what side I’m on?

I am on the side of those who want to end police violence and other forms of oppression towards racialized communities–I hope there’s an “of course” in there somewhere. But in terms of speaking up or out–on this subject, I honestly can’t think of a voice the world needs less. I do genuinely try to share information when I have it and my own point of view if I think it’s distinct. And I often stay silent when I feel I can offer neither of those…because I’m listening, learning, the same way I would at a party when a topic came up that I wanted to learn more about. But of course, on social media, you can’t see me nodding thoughtfully.

So that’s my question–how much should we be clarifying, “yes, I too am not racist” on social media the way that stores and business do? What sort of communication–direct or bankshot–is that with our friends and connections? I know saying something isn’t doing something and a hashtag isn’t activism, but is a statement a good way to clarify intent? Or just a baby kiss on Galen Weston’s bizarre grocery-filled pathway to power?

It is possible that I’m spending too much time online these days. But if you have insights on this, I’d be happy to hear them.

Day 91, 13 weeks complete. If 91 does not sound like it should be divisible by anything, it’s because they did not teach 13 as a multiplier in grade school–we are beyond the times tables, baby!

This week was a minor nightmare for me–it was very hot in my apartment, there was constant jackhammering during the day and often loud music and/or shouting at night, and I couldn’t muster focus for almost anything. Because of the heat, even cooking, which is a reliable pleasure usually, was largely unpleasant. Plus all the changes and sadness at work, plus the dawning realization that no matter how flexible we are with our timing or how we plan it, we really are probably not going to be able to go see Mark’s family this summer…

Plus I am mainly just out of resiliency. A mildly snippy text sends me into a tailspin for hours, the fact that when Mark is unavailable the cats hang out under the dining room table rather than with me hurts my feelings (they are cats!), and I have become so alarmed by all the warnings in my InstantPot manual I still haven’t used it in almost three weeks (I have helpfully scattered all the pieces all over my living room though).

I get that the paragraph above is not a list of problems so much as symptoms of a problem, which is a dearth of coping mechanisms. My usual coping mechanisms are just so…interactive, though. I suppose I will eventually develop some new ones, but honestly, I would have hoped to have done so at least a little in 91 days.

Unlike yesterday’s video of the jackhammers, this is not a pity post–I’m just keeping everyone abreast with my fairly dull situation, but also maybe explaining a bit why these posts are getting less entertaining. I’m on day 16 of 30 days of yoga and that’s going ok, which is something, and then today I started (why not?) 30 days of meditation. Coping skills ahoy!

(2) I ordered some books from Ben McNally Books and they offered me the option of either sending an etransfer or calling in my credit card number, and of course I was going to etransfer. But then I remembered what it’s like to actually be in that big gorgeous store and have whoever’s working that day say hi and ask me how I am. It’s like being at Cheers, but for books. And so I called and oh my gosh it was nice to talk to Ben for a sec.

(3) I think it’s fair that many people are confused by what by what #DefundThePolice means–when you say “declaw a cat,” some people mean remove its front claws and some people mean remove all its claws (you should never remove ANY claws from a cat). When you say “depilate your legs” some people mean to the knee and some to the hip. And lets not even get into “defenestrate.” This is just a confusing prefix.

Glibness aside, “reallocate funding involving the police” is a better but less catchy slogan, and anyway it’s going to look different in every jurisdiction and also it hasn’t really happened yet. If someone can predict how things are likely to come down, certainly not me, who learned a lot from this little explainer–it’s helpful and straightforward. I do think there are people in the world who are genuinely advocating for police abolition, but they are unlikely to prevail. What’s below seems more likely to the person who went straight for the cat analogy, so, you know, take it for what it’s worth. h/t Rachelle Boisjoli (I’ve got to start doing those more!)

Day 92: I got another email from Galen Weston this morning–is he becoming too important a person in my life? Stockholm Syndrome? Why do I keep reading the emails? Well, these are some good questions to consider, but anyway, I read it right to the end and in the last bullet he announced that the pay bump people in the PC Optimum family of stores received at the beginning of the pandemic is going away now. On the one hand, it’s still far far more dangerous to have that job than it was when most of those people signed up, which isn’t fair, and yet they keep showing up and largely being excellent. On the other hand, things are ostensibly improving and getting safer for us all (but are they?) Actually, I probably do have an opinion here, that they should have gotten to keep the raise, as grocery store jobs were never overpaid to start with and now they are much more onerous and scary. So that’s what I think. Anyway, I thought I should share this, since perhaps not everyone reads every word of these emails with devotion the way I do.

June 11th, 2020

Pandemic Diary: May 21 to June 1

Day 70: We tried a brief physically distant visit with Brandon McFarlane and Hilary June Hart at lunch in a park today–it was great! Friends are the best! It was a little awkward trying to stay apart and wearing a mask and everything, but really nice. Also, this very weird thing happened: we were sitting on a low rock wall with the requisite six feet between us, so taking up a lot of space, but there was still a lot of wall leftover. A kid of perhaps 9 or 10, all but engulfed from forehead to hips in a grey cammo hoodie and riding and then carrying a scooter, climbed up on the wall behind B&H–facing me, but sort of glowering over them from behind. I motioned that we should get up because–well, it seemed best, and none of us was really in love with the rock wall (which turned out to have been quite dirty) anyway. The adults responsible for the kid saw us scoot away and called apologies after us, and then started remonstrating with the kid in another language. I felt bad, because while the moment had been undeniably weird, it was only a moment and kids have a hard enough time knowing how to be with strangers without being pulled out of society for two months. SO much remonstrating. Man, it must suck to be a kid right now. I mean, it sucks to be anyone in a pandemic but… Well, anyway, friends and parks–recommended!

(2)

Day 70: Yeah, gasp: 10 weeks. I went for another early morning walk downtown today because, as things open up, it won’t be as easy to do that, I figure. When I came out of my building, I saw two security guards talking with someone who was attempting to take off all his clothes and, indeed, had mainly done so already. They were having a low-voiced, reasonable conversation about it. About ten minutes later, walking towards Yonge and trying to change the music on my earphones, I was startled by someone bursting out of a building, yelling and sobbing. He seemed really upset, as if he just ended an argument with someone, but when I turned off my music to hear what he was saying, it was about supermodels. I passed the park by Sanctuary, which used to be part of my route to go see my mother, but I haven’t been through it in weeks because it is now occupied by a tent city. I saw a car with its window smashed–otherwise undamaged, it seemed to me, but it was hard to tell what had been taken.

It feels so important to look around and really see what is happening in our locked down city to those who can’t lock down, or can’t understand what is happening enough to do so, or both. I also saw a few people (more than last time) seemingly briskly setting out for work, a line-up at the Tim Hortons, a lilac tree about to bloom, and lots of quiet empty streets, of course, but overall, it felt like a tough city today. And honestly, I shrank from it a bit, cut the downtown part of my walk short and went over to Allen Gardens, where a few people were just waking up but by and large it was very peaceful. For a while a guy had set up a hammock in Allen Gardens and was living in it with his cat, but usually, that park is more a living room than a bedroom and this morning it was green and quiet.

(3)

Here is the news no one wants: an update on the TV show Station 19. For those–I assume, many–who don’t know, Station 19 is a newish (just two years old) spin-off of Grey’s Anatomy. While GA centred around both the personal lives of hospital staff and the seemingly limitless medical problems they encounter and try to solve, S19 is about the personal lives of firefighters and the…fires they try to put out. There is so much variation in medical drama–from lupus to a fractured spine to chronic fatigue to anxiety disorders to infertility to…you get the idea, but a fire is a fire. A few of the staff are also paramedics–I can’t quite get a handle on how many–so sometimes they have some minor medical dramas of their own, but mainly they fight fires. The show really really tries, but in order to be successful, firefighters need to be pretty quick and dull; to inject drama, the failure rate needs to be much much higher, and so on most episodes of S19 that I’ve seen someone dies. I think if they were a city crew here in Toronto, there would be an investigation of their mortality rate! In order to try to keep the drama up but not make the team look like incompetents, the writers usually have the characters who die trapped by something beyond the firefighters’ control. In the episodes I’ve seen, these things include a fallen filing cabinet, an MRI machine, a locked storage locker, and a bowling-alley pinsetter (that was my favourite). Not every episode but quite often, the trapped/dying person says something along the lines of, “It’s too late for me/I’m already done for/I’m as good as dead, so go ahead and leave me and save [blank]” with [blank] usually but not always being “those kids” (in the season finale, it was research mice that could have the cure for cancer encoded in their DNA!!)

And I’ve only covered the firefighting side–their personal lives are mess also. All of the pretty blond young women on the squad have profound issues with their fathers (this also happens on another firefighter show I watched, 991 Austin!–must be something about firefighters!) and everyone is extremely promiscuous. S19 is the TV equivalent of those rockets candy you get on Hallowe’en–junk, and not even good junk, but a sugar rush when there’s nothing else available, which is mainly how I feel lately. In case it’s not clear, I love this show!!!

Day 71: I’ve been working on some elementary school science lessons at my job (yes, between all the facebooking, I still do my job!) and I am finding it fascinating how relevant and important that stuff is right now. How to form a hypothesis, how test it, how to gather evidence to see if your hypothesis is working or not, how to form a new hypothesis. Covid-19 is a new disease and so many hypotheses are being tested and refined right now. Those who believe that just because the doctors and scientists don’t have all the right answers immediately means that they are making it all up could stand to go back to elementary school science and learn how its done. I mean, the process is terrifying, but it’s the only way it works.

It is day 72 of the lockdown, or seen another way, it is day 15 341 on Earth (yes, I looked up the leap years). And this is exactly how I feel–a brilliant answer but no question was asked…

Day 73: So yesterday was my 42nd birthday. I have to admit, I was sort of mopey on Friday when, after dinner, I realized there was nothing to do with my birthday eve but watch four hours of television and go to bed. We did watch Hustlers off of Mark Sampson‘s curated movie list, which was just great, and then a couple episodes of Never Have I Ever, also great–and not perhaps what Mark would have chosen for himself, so I appreciated the birthday forbearance.

On my birthday proper, I got my first ever breakfast in bed–somehow I missed out on this my whole life. It was lovely, but then we had to change the sheets–how do people eat pancakes and syrup while reclining and not get it everywhere? Anyway, Mark cleaned up the kitchen (during lockdown, dishes have become my most loathed chore) and I lounged around and then we set off for the park. We went to Riverside East, where there was tonnes of space for social distancing and everyone could a nice bubble for a picnic. Which we did! If you can get there, I recommend RE as a big big park with space for everyone. It’s not wildly accessible if you have mobility issues, though, because of the steep hills.

Anyway, we ate and read and hung out in the sun until everything in the cooler melted and then headed home for more lounging, calls, a distanced visit with fan, fancy dinner on the balcony, and zooming with friends. I did my once a year experiment with drinking Bellinis (as most people know, I never got the hang of alcohol and don’t actually drink) and ended up collapsed across Mark’s lap by 9:30.

So yeah–24 hours of celebration, and I feel lucky to have been able to have it. Thanks for all the FB messages, the texts and calls and zooms and cards, my friends–now more than ever, I appreciate being part of your fine community.

(2) Oh, my goodness, I almost forgot the actual best part of my birthday. We were sitting eating our picnic, which was basically bread and fancy cheese, and oranges, and TimTams that melted in the sun. And saying how people talk about cheese the way they do about bands, and everyone wants their favourite to be the one no one else has heard of–the more obscure and hard to find, the better. And then right as we’re closing out that conversational avenue, Mark Sampson throws in, “And Brie is Coldplay.”

Day 75: I’m sad about this. I’m not savvy enough to understand the business decision here–I hope it’s a great one–but on the ground it will mean not seeing half my colleagues anymore, and probably other things will change I have not thought of yet. Of course, now I see no one and am here alone with the jackhammers, so my ability to process is limited. https://www.theglobeandmail.com/business/article-top-hat-buys-nelson-educations-university-textbook-division/?fbclid=IwAR2wFCni13qMRkc2MGDxzATFbVRLBnaE_5M8rHT7afKceBhBCjolNzubOTU

(2) Today was the original pub date of Mark Sampson‘s new novel, All the Animals on Earth from Wolsak and Wynn Publishers. It is being postponed until the fall, wise considering the state of the world, but still available for pre-order in all the usual fashions. Such a great book, it’ll be worth the wait! 

(3) I admit to some envy of the #todaysoffice people not subjected to nonstop jackhammers, but #tonightsoffice is pretty sweet and relatively quiet. #stillworking

Day 76: a sub-isolation within the original isolation: due to heat and noise from jackhammers, I can’t work in my office anymore so I’m sealed in the bedroom where the air conditioner both cools and is loud enough to drown out the rapture. Working on the bed introduces new distractions though. #pandemiclife #wfh #catsofinstagram

(2)

Tonight around twilight, I was wandering in Rosedale chatting with my mom on the phone when I saw a little kid, perhaps 3, coming down a driveway solo, slurping a freezie. I paused to watch since he was alone, and sure enough, he came right to the edge of the road. I shook my head at him–usually kids are intimidated enough by disapproval from a stranger. But he stepped down into the street!
RR: Oh, no, don’t do that!
Mominator: What’s wrong? Are you ok?
Kid (walks across the street)
RR: Oh, just this little kid, wandering in traffic.
Mom: WHAT?
Kid (totally blasé)
RR: Well, it’s Rosedale, there’s not much traffic, but he’s in the street.
Mom: Where are his parents?
Kid (heads down the sidewalk away from RR)
RR: I don’t know, there’s nobody. I’ll ask him where they…nope, pandemic, can’t talk to strange kids.
Mom: You can’t leave him all alone.
RR: Oh, he’s headed towards some women coming the other way, maybe these are his people.
Mom: Oh good.
RR: Uh-uh, walked right past him. And they didn’t seem weirded out by lone three-year-old out for a stroll. Rosedale is weird.
Mom: …
RR: Well, I’ll just follow him and make sure he doesn’t get kidnapped, maybe he knows where he’s going…??
Mom: Ok, you watch him.
RR: Oh, no, he noticed me, now he’s afraid of ME. I am a toddler stalker. I need to drop back more.
Mom: Don’t lose him.
RR: I lost him.
Mom: oh no!
RR: He went into one of these yards…Oh, there he is…he found some women, they seem glad to see him…
Mom: Is he glad to see them?
RR: Seems to be–ok, they’re looking at me, I guess I peace out now.

What IS Rosedale? I mean, I’m not a parent, there’s much I don’t know, but surely most people in most neighbourhoods wouldn’t tell a kid that young to cross the street and walk half a block alone if they got lonely…would they?

Day 77: 11 weeks, my friends–omg. Part of me wants to stop doing this count and give into the “is it Wednesday?” oblivion I see going around but this way, every day is at least an accomplishment when it ends. I also live with someone who has worn a watch and collared shirt and followed his workday schedule exactly throughout the pandemic, so I am being a little careful about how thoroughly I disintegrate. I have also started a 30 days of yoga challenge, which will give me something ELSE to count. This morning was day two. The yoga mat I bought way back at the beginning of the lockdown was a real good choice–I’m getting a lot of use out of it. I chose to buy it from Lululemon even though they’re a big conglomerate, because they kept their retail staff on the payroll even when they sent them home and closed the stores to keep them safe. I feel good about that, and it’s a nice mat (purple), plus I’m enjoying the yoga. I think the 30-day thing will be some nice added structure, although I’m a bit worried that the first few days are supposed to be the easy ones and then it gets harder. I haven’t found it that easy…

Day 78: How’s your pandemic fashion game? I ask because, since it got too hot in my home for slippers, I’ve started wearing a pair of pink flipflops I got at Laura Smith‘s bachelorette in 2006 as my daily footwear (they used to have the date written on them, but it’s long since worn off). They *almost* make sense with my blue-jean leggings mail-ordered at the beginning of the pandemic and burgundy cotton sundress–probably if you met me quickly, you wouldn’t guess I’m on day 78 of a pandemic, though probably you would be too, and thus we wouldn’t meet. I’ve also been getting a lot of wear out of a headband I was given as part of my uniform when I took ballet lessons in kindergarten. TGIFF. Tonight I’m going to watch the new Hannah Gadsby special and eat tahini cookies…oh, god, it’s raining. Yesterday I just took my lunch walk in the rain and got soaked, but I’m not sure I want to do that again. The jackhammer guys now also have a blowtorch–cool sparks. But also I still don’t like the jackhammer guys. Are these updates starting to take on a second-grade declarative cast? Oh no. Oh no everything.

(2) Hi I made tahini #cookies using beet tahini. Feel free to throw around the word #genius #prettyinpink

(3) Mark just called Hannah Gadsby “Kimmy Gibbler” and I don’t know what to do.

Day 79 is the #notanotherblacklife protest in Toronto. I’m in awe of the organizers and those attending today, and desperately sad about the need for it. I won’t be attending today–I’ve found street actions overwhelming at the best of times and I can’t imagine attending alone today and trying to keep proper distance from everyone, after not going anywhere but quick errands or the park for 79 days. I feel guilty about making the choice–it is certainly a choice–not to go, but this post isn’t *just* guilt vomit. I usually give money when I am not showing up where I feel I should actually be, and I did that today, contributing a little bit to the legal fund for #JusticeForRegis Korchinski Paquet. I’m sure the little bit I gave isn’t going to do much, but the point for me is to do something rather than nothing, to feel implicated. It is easy to feel helpless–I often do–but this is my city too and I owe it whatever I can manage to push for what I believe is right. I’ll put the link to the gofundme I gave to, in case anyone is interested, though there are certainly many worthy ones.

Day 80: I have a moderate green thumb–in general, I like to grow things, and if you give me a plant, the plant will probably live, and maybe flourish, although occasionally things do go wrong. Like most work involving care, gardening mainly involves paying attention and putting in the time/energy–watch a plant and you’ll learn when it needs to be watered/weeded/pruned/moved–and then you do it. I’m actually way weaker on the facts of gardening–what things are called, what fertilizers could be applied to the soil when, what temperature ranges allow you to plant what where–than the process of the labour and the care, because I just learned by watching my dad (and being ordered around by him). He in turn, learned to garden by trial and error, and also didn’t necessarily know what things were called or why they worked when they did–he just paid attention, and adjusted to the facts on the ground. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately, probably because the pandemic has given me (and a lot of people, yeah?) the time to really stare at my plants every day and see how they are doing and adjust and care accordingly. Currently, they are doing amazing. He would be pleased.

Day 81: Time is meaningless but I think I’ve watched enough TV to do another post updating on that…

Douglas: This is Hannah Gadsby’s latest comedy special, the follow-up to her breakout Nanette, and definitely the best thing i’ve watched in a while. It doesn’t go as dark as Nanette, but it’s definitely as smart and it’s very funny. At the beginning it’s clever but not brilliant and if you’re comparing to the *end* of Nanette, you might be a little disappointed, but remember–Gadsby *builds*. She takes her time. It all comes together at the end!

The Half of It: I’ve already posted about this, but it’s a great great film about friendship among awkward teens in a small town. Funny and a bit different than anything I’ve seen before.

Hustlers: A really fun (and a teensy bit poignant) movie about friendship among strippers who develop a complicated con to keep themselves afloat post 2008. Stars Jennifer Lopez at her most charming–the movie is sort of about how she draws everyone in and makes them like her, and it’s very effective because I definitely would have died for Jennifer Lopez at certain points in the film. The actor you’re trying so hard to place is Julia Stiles. All around delightful.

Greenburg: A film about a middle-aged failed musician-turned-carpenter who manipulates his brother’s vulnerable young assistant into driving him places and sleeping with him. Tedious and irritating, although not without its verisimilitude–I definitely remember men who preyed on my friends like this when we were younger. But the extremes of the plot, and the possibility that Greenburg might be an interesting person worth exploring, kept ringing false. I gave up before the end and keep trying to talk myself into watching the last twenty minutes in case it gets better. Stars Ben Stiller, whom I like, but the movies he’s in are usually bad.

Never Have I Ever: Charming TV show about a tenth grader dealing with the death of her father, her desire to break free of her Indian immigrant community/family, and various high-school drama. I think it’s the most popular thing streaming right now and with good reason. I was upset when there were no more episodes. It was nice to be watching the zeitgeist too! I did have quibbles with some of the minor characters and, oddly, the costume design, including the world’s least-believable pair of coloured contacts.

Derry Girls: I think everyone in the universe watched this BBC sitcom about the Irish Troubles in the 1990s from the POV of teen girls months ago, but we just finished and loved it. My favourite character is Orla.

The End of the F**king World: another British show, this one much darker, about two neglected teenagers who run away together and get into a lot of trouble. One of them thinks he is a psychopath. It’s wildly implausible and very sad, but for whatever reason the dark humour is working for me. We’re only a few episodes in.

Sex Education: Another show about British teenagers, one of whom has a sex therapist mom. We watched one episode, I almost died of proxy embarrassment, and that was the end of that. I can’t tell if there are just a lot of TV shows about teenagers right now or I’m just interested in watching a lot of TV shows about teenagers right now. Either way, this one didn’t pan out.

The Simpsons, seasons 18 and now 19: This is not quality programming but most if it isn’t downright ghastly (some of it is) and if you grew up with The Simpsons as a joyful treat and are going through a tough time right now because pandemic, just having these characters on your screen can be soothing.

It was Christine Enright Gilbert who reminded me that seasons of shows are off-kilter right now because actors can’t be in the studio shooting together because pandemic, so when we run out of episodes of something, there might not be any more for a long while. And, conceivably, since I hate so many shows (we started Normal People a couple days ago and it’s looking bad) I might RUN OUT OF TV ENTIRELY. Time to panic? MAYBE.