Somebody's been sleeping in my bed...

bright sunny skies, cool, temps 6

Very calm day, no wind...makes it feel much milder. But it is a crystal clear day. Gorgeous.

Didn't sleep well last night. Started off well. got to bed by 8:30 (yes - such is the life of an international jet setter) - read the page proofs for Bury Your Dead...got 100 more done. Not many errors, at least not that I found. Then at 10pm I watched House Hunters and House Hunters International. New favorite shows. Fantasy stuff. Then off to sleep. I always fall asleep quickly.

And then, well, it's anyone's guess what happens. Happily most days now I sleep all the way through. But sometimes i wake up at 3 and toss and turn. Thinking about the book. But not last night. last night I woke up about 1am and starting thinking about....the bear.

suppose, my 1am brain asked, the bear comes back and is hungry. Can it break into the house? the doors are locked, the alarm is on...but maybe a bear doesn't worry about such things. And then what?

What was that? A creak? A groan? A bear?

So I lay in bed coming up with plans. Close and lock the bedroom door...though that seemed not very effective, if the bear could get through locked front door. Still, it would slow him down, thought my 1:30am brain.

but it did not seem the best plan. We could climb into the attic, I thought. drag a chair over, lift Michael into it first, get Trudy up there. Then I could jump up...and maybe knock over the chair. So the bear wouldn't come up too.

Have to take the phone to call someone. The Surete. They'd save us.

I fell off to sleep trying to remember to take the phone with us into the attic when the bear broke into the house.

I hope a degree of insanity is a good thing in a writer. Kind of too bad if it isn't.

Went off for breakfast in Cowansville today - then did some banking and renewed my drivers license and health care card. And then home by noon, for a call from my agent with the news Turkey has bought the rights to my books. That's terrific. Very happy about that.

fielded some requests for events to promote The Brutal Telling, including a possible mini-tour of Ontario linked to the Evergreen nominations of the Ontario Library System.

Then spent the afternoon writing book 7. Such a funny life (bears aside)...promoting The Brutal Telling, editing Bury Your Dead, writing book 7 and starting to think about book 8. No wonder I'm nutty.

tomorrow is our friend Bal's birthday, as well as our friend Cheryl's birthday! I'm heading off for a 7:30 birthday breakfast with Cheryl. Great way to start the day.

Hope you are slightly nuts too.

Absolutely no evidence, except....

Mainly sunny, cool, temps 5

A little breezy, and that's making it feel quite chilly.

Our quiet day today started with a mob scene. Woke up to see, out the bathroom window, Lise and Donna doing the garden. Then Wilder and Maurice arrived to clip and shape the lindens. Then we could hear hammering from the cottage - Gary and Alain building the new verandah. And then Jana arrived to talk about Markus.

All this before 9:30am.

I finally settled down to write by 10:30...and finished about five to three. Lots of phone calls too. many to do with Markus as well. As perhaps you've gathered, nothing ever moves in a straight line around here. The latest wrinkle is that the horse rescue network does not let their rescue horses go to anyone boarding at a riding school. The woman who runs the horse rescue network knows there are many, many wonderful, responsible, kind and terrific riding schools, but she and the board feel there's just a lot of potential for abuse. Great riding schools can be sold and the new owner might not have the same standards.

So, we'll see what happens...because I think Markus would thrive with Niki - the woman who came from Ottawa yesterday.

Wonderful seeing Lise and Donna today...that is always a great day. At some stage I went outside with Trudy who was whining to get outside and play with them - we toured the garden and I explained about the damage done by the bear. But also explained that it was something of a mystery since there was absolutely no evidence, beside the damage, that it was a bear. no poop. No prints. I pointed to the ground below the bent metal bar attached to the brick of our home...the one the bear bent.

'See,' I said, pointing at the blue bells. 'No paw prints.'

'You mean,' said Lise, 'like this one?'

'Huh?' says I.

Lise, having been there a full ten seconds, was pointing to the biggest honking bear paw print, in mud, face level on the wooden shutter.

'Well,' I said, 'except for that one, of course.'

D'oh.

How could we have missed it? Michael, Tony, Pat and I all looked, and failed to see a paw the size of a pie plate. It's a miracle and a mystery how I can manage to write crime fiction when clearly I'm the worst detective going. Fortunately My Assistant Lise not only has senses, she uses them.

Now need to send off a bio and some possible questions for an upcoming panel at Malice Domestic, in Washington. Then make dinner.

Be well.

Bear

mixed cloud and sun, cool, temps 5

Bit of a mixed day. Some lovely sun, and some sleet. Thank you again for all the lovely birthday wishes for Michael. We all went out for dinner last night to L'entrecote st-Jean...Michael, his two sons and me. We all had steak frites (that's all they serve - and do it brilliantly) and shared a couple orders of profiteroles. The Mike and Vic went to see Alice in Wonderland and Michael and I walked back to the hotel. Went into a bookstore on the way to browse. Hard to pass by a bookstore. And fun to go into one at night.

Had a lovely breakfast in the hotel. Cafe au lait and I had the cold buffet while the brithday boy had eggs benedict.

Then home. Stopped for groceries.

We then hopped right over to see Markus. Speaking of whom, I forgot to mention in yesterday's post that I did not 'win' the male masseur. Not perhaps surprisingly one of the gorgeous blonde young women got him. I got a very nice woman, who concentrated on my head, so that when the massage was over I looked like Bozo. But a very relaxed Bozo.

We met a woman named Niki at Jana's. She's a magnificent horse woman - owned thoroughbreds and works with a trainer....she'd just lost her last horse a year or two ago. So she came to see Markus.

I realized after riding him, and speaking with the very wise Jana, that I was a bridge for Markus, not a destination. And we needed to find him a permanent home with someone who knew and loved horses and would give him the training and stimulation he deserves.

But I have to say, I'm strangely upset at the idea of seeing him go. He's way too much horse for the likes of me. It would never work. I know that. But wow, it hurts. The thought of letting him go. Still, it needs to be done. thankfully, Niki seems wonderful. Rode him, cantered him, put him through his paces. And he needs that.

Because he's a rescue horse I won't sell him, but give him away. And whoever takes him will be inspected by the horse rescue people. And they won't be allowed to sell him either. The point, obviously, is to find him a loving home - as much of a permanent home as possible in an uncertain world.

We're watching the masters. Phil is doing VERY well. Not sure Tiger has changed much in terms of his outlook and approach.

When we arrived home there'd been some damage to the property...and Tony and Pat explained it was a bear! Ripped the bird feeders up. Bended a bunch of metal bars. Did not, however, this year leave a soft and smelly conversation piece on the front lawn. Which is a bit of a shame, really. The only thing that made its visit fun last year. Now we have nothing but hungry birds and what looks like abstract sculptures to show for it.

But it sure feels good to be home. Blessedly quiet day tomorrow. A newspaper interview in the afternoon, but beyond that, just writing. Phew.

Hope you're well - and thank you again for the birthday greetings for Michael!

She also asks if you're really wearing that...

overcast, breezy, temps 11

Quite chilly this morning, but became nicer in the afternoon as the winds died down a bit and the day warmed up.

Bear returned last night. Ripped off the third and final bird feeder...it was screwed onto the end of the post and it took it off completely.

Last night I kept waking up, thinking I heard the bear...went downstairs, turned on the outside lights...first time I saw a plump skunk - which seemed undeterred by the light and eventually waddled away. The next time I woke up to noise and snuck downstairs to find two massive racoons. Now, I would have probably concluded those racoons had done the damage had the bear not gifted us with such a massive pile of poop.

We seem to have a wilflife zoo happening at night here.

I suspect we won't see much more of the bear since there's nothing left to get in to.

Wrote for most of today. Need to head in to Montreal tomorrow. Taxes for Michael and dentist and hairdresser for me. I can't tell you how many times Michael's asked, 'So, have you called the hairdresser?' 'Do you have an appointment yet?' 'Your hair looks ridiculous and your dead mother has asked me to tell you that.' OK, he didn't actually say that last thing, but I heard it anyway with my accute hearing.

So, the appointment is made. And not with the local village barber this time.

Pray for me. Will report back.

Charlotte, is that a pile of bear droppings?

sunny, gorgeous day, temps 11

Not, perhaps, as warm as some days but again the wind is calm - so it feels like a perfect spring day.

Took Trudy for a walk this morning..she got halfway into the field and took off for our front lawn - quite a distance away. I watched her, then decided if she was there I might as well feed the birds.

The first sign of trouble came when I noticed the large open birdfeeder had been ripped apart. I thought - raccoon. Then I noticed that the tubular birdfeeder that is attached to the house by a metal rod was missing completely and the metal rod was bent.

Then I saw a huge pile of steaming you-know-what on the lawn, about the size of Billy Crystal. I immediately called - 'Michaaaael!'

He was in the kitchen and came running out, in his slippers, sweats and sweater. I pointed to what had been our birdfeeders - then the pile.

Bears. Big bears. Then we looked at the metal garbage can we keep the birdseed in. It was over on its side, dented and the top torn off. Oddly, the bad of seed was still in it.

This was very exciting. I don't mind bears at all - though I don't think I'll be sleeping on the screen porch anytime soon...and we made sure we locked the doors...in case this was a bear of considerable brain. What surprised us was that we heard nothing...and our bedroom look out over the front lawn.

We called Tony who confirmed it was a bear...and when asked about the crushed metal garbage can and why we didn't hear it he said that bears are very, very quiet.

We let that be.

I used to think it must be quite glamourous to be a writer. Now I know it's mostly sitting around in flannels and the most exciting conversation is about piles of crap in the front yard. I think Emily Bronte must have found the same thing.

The good news is the crap is now on the front lawn and no longer on the page. But it seems a karmic thing with me. If I'm not dreaming of toilets I'm afraid my book is crap, or I'm actually finding not effete little deer droppings, but massive mountains of it on the lawn.

Saved a frog out of the pool this morning too. I'd like to see the Bronte's beat that.

As an addendum to this post, Tony just dropped by - to look at the dropping (yup, bear)and put the battery back in the tractor. He was also going to pick up the poop and toss it into the woods but decided to leave it there.

Why, Tony? I asked.

As a conversation piece, he said.

Obviously Tony knows just how sparkling our conversation normally is, that it can be helped along by a pile of crap on the lawn.