Wild Kingdom

Mainly sunny, some snow this morning, temps minus 11

Drove in to Montreal this morning. Woke up to lots of beautiful, fluffy snow falling. Less beautiful when you're on the road. Got caught behind a huge snow plow for about 20 kilometers. The downside is that it goes at about 25 kilometers an hour. Creeping along as it plows the snow off the road. The upside is that it is plowing the snow off the road. Ridiculous to speed to get to the destination 5 minutes earlier. But, God help me, I've done it. Drove like a maniac when I was in my twenties. Not necessarily really reckless - but I don't think I used the best judgement.

Michael and Trudy stayed at home. I have an interview tomorrow with the marvelous Nathalie Petrowski, of La Presse. We're meeting for breakfast at Chez Nick's. Then I'll head back home.

No more squirrels - though there is one snooping around the house. I do wonder if it's one of the fellas we re-located. Returned home. Our home, and apparently their's too. I stare at it, as it plays on the honeysuckle and sits in the bird feeder, but frankly they all look the same to me.

Great news about the mother and puppies - the black labs who'd been abused near our home. All the puppies have been adopted, and the Mom has gone to a fabulous home in Quebec City. I have to say, we'd have loved to have be able to adopt one of them. But very, very happy they're all in loving homes.

Watching the football games, and exchanging emails with Michael - we always seem to root for different teams.

Hope you're well and enjoying your weekend.

huge vacuums

rainy, cool temps 22

Thank you for all your supportive comments - limping toward 'the end'...hoping to finish this fourth draft by Sunday. Then will write the September newsletter on Monday.

But I must tell you about the launch of En plein coeur...well, not really a launch since it doesn't actually come out until Sept 2nd. but this was an intimate lunch for the books editor at La Presse, and a book reviewer at Voir. Simone, the publicist was there, as were Louise Loiselle, the publisher at Flammarion Quebec, and Michael Saint-Germain - the translator. The good news is that the editor at La Presse really liked the book! The other woman hadn't had the chance to read it all, but was enthusiastic.

Can't tell you what a relief that was. And the food was spectacular. Restaurant called Le Local. Highly recommended - though very hard to find. It's on rue William in Montreal. Susan and I had once again practiced, and realized I'd said, at one point, that I had very big vacuums. What I'd meant to say was I have large aspirations.

Aspirations. Aspirateurs. French - a language of nuance.

Tried not to repeat that over lunch. We chatted away in both French and english, often switiching in mid-sentence. Some days my french is good, many days it's very bad. But not as bad as my Italian.

I remember when Michael and I arrived at the airport in Venice several years ago, while he organized the luggage I went in search of the vaporetto (sp?) - the water taxi's - that would take us to our hotel on the Grand Canal. I found the desk, went over to them, opened my mouth, and only then did I realize I don't speak Italian.

you'd think, maybe, I'd have known that a little earlier - but it actually came as a surprise.

I also remember doing an interview on CBC Radio - live on air - one of my first. I was asking one of the Vietnamese boat people - back in the early 80's - about his experiences.

'Tell me what it was like leaving your home?' I asked.

'87' he said.

I paused.

'What was the journey like?' I asked, slowly, clearly. Loudly.

'87,' he said.

I was faced with a choice. either come up with a series of questions whose answer was '87' (What comes after 86?), or saying 'Thank you, and goodbye.' I said goodbye.

I've often wondered if that man realized he didn't speak English. And why he'd ever agree to do an interivew in a language he obviously did not speak.

Now, as I face a raft of interviews in French, I'm beginning to understand how this sort of thing happens. Wishful thinking and the inestimable power of delusion.

After the lunch Michael and I jumped in the car and headed to Granby to see jacques and Louise. We wanted to be careful not to exhaust Jacques, but we ended up staying an hour and a half. And he and Louise continue to amaze us. He's no longer eating or drinking. slivers of ice is all he can manage. It is in other hands than ours, or his. Louise continues to be gracious and open. But it's exhausting.

Then home about 7pm...took peanut butter sandwiches up to bed. Asleep by 8:30. The thrilling life of a writer!!

Spending today in sweats in front of the fireplace, editing...juggling scenes...writing a few new ones...as I read the hardcopy manuscript I realized I needed to switch the location of a scene and add a character - which of course reverberates through the rest of the scenes. So that takes time. Hope to get to page 180 today. 200 tomorrow - heading off at noon to drive to Shelburne Farms Inn, south of Burlington, Vermont. Susan, Michael and I are taking part in the framers dinner tomorrow night. They're holding it in the barn onsite. Then we're all staying the night at the Inn, and going to the Ansel Adams exhibit at the Shelburne Museum on Friday. Home early afternoon.

Really looking forward to that! A late summer treat. Speak soon - and hope all your vacuums are met.