Surprise, surprise, guess who’s back (sort of)

It’s been more than a year since I’ve been here and I must say it feels a bit strange.

First of all, I can’t say I’m liking this new platform, or whatever it’s called (my tech savviness is limited). I’d love someone to tell me why, when it comes to technology — regardless of what it is — they are always tinkering — and, to my mind — never improving anything. It drives me batty. And, in fact, it drives me away.

But in this instance, it has nothing to do with why I haven’t been around, although it may account for why I may not be around all that often going forward. I guess I’ll just have to see if I can figure this out and get to like it.

Back to doing what I love most …

I’ve been writing a lot lately about cutting back on my television viewing — or, more specifically — the News. So it won’t come as a surprise to hear that in the last couple of weeks I haven’t watched TV at all, and in the last month I don’t think I’ve watched even five hours.

Reading has been a passion my entire life. Even before I could read myself, I loved stories and was constantly bringing either my mum or dad a book so they could read to me. So it’s been disconcerting, and shocking to say the least, to find that in the past year or so, I’ve had a hard time carving off time to read, getting into whichever book(s) I’m reading and actually finishing them.

Too many distractions, I guess. Projects, deadlines, blogging, working on my own book, life, Trump — something’s always gotten in

Losing it …

As you may have noticed (or maybe not), I am trying desperately to steer clear of writing about U.S. politics. Aside from the fact that it’s stressful and aggravating, there doesn’t seem to be any point to it. It changes nothing.

Hence all my recent trips down memory lane.

Sadly, though, even if I am trying my best to remain silent on the subject, no one else is.

There doesn’t seem to be any escaping “45”, his (insert swear word here) family, his cronies, his partners in crime, his sycophants, his tweets and 

I never knew I had such discipline …

You’ve heard me say time and again that I love reading and I love books. And I love having books around. It gives me pleasure just to see them, let alone to hold them and feel their weight in my hand. To smell the ink. To feel the texture of the paper.

The sight of bookcases filled to overflowing is comforting to me. So are tables piled high with them.

I love looking at all the different books I’ve read and I

Sometimes I’m a mystery even to myself …

How weird is this? Right in the middle of walking to meet a friend for coffee a book title popped into my head. James Hilton’s Lost Horizon.

Out of nowhere. Why? That’s my question to you.

Why?

I first read Lost Horizon back in grade school. Don’t make me tell you how long ago that was. In those days, we were given a required reading list at the very beginning of the school year. And each time we finished a book we had to

Thanks (again).

Canadian Thanksgiving was this past weekend.  And considering how, for the past two weeks, I’ve been talking about what I’m grateful for, I figured this was the perfect time to continue that particular conversation.  And then I’ll give it a rest, I promise.  Which you’ll be thankful for, I know.

Right off the top, I’m grateful for my sense of humour.  There’s all kinds of shit going on just about every place you can find on a map — not to mention  the crap we all put up with in our own lives — so being able to find

Blown away …

FI haven’t been to a library in years.  Yes, I know.  Shame on me.  I used to go and then I stopped.  Why, exactly, I do not know.  Crazy when you consider how much I love to read; and the cost of books.  Anyway.

A friend of mine is an absolute devotee.  She is always either coming from or going to the library.  And recently she told me that now, at least here in Toronto, you can download books.  Who knew?

Gotta admit, I was impressed.  She told me I just needed

It’s actually a bit spooky …

It seems I’ve got supernatural powers.  Well, not across the board.  I do have my limitations.  But I seem to be able to conjure people.  People who magically appear (or re-appear) into my life after long absences.  It’s nothing new, actually.  I’ve done it for years — never intentionally, mind you.  It just happens.

Last month it happened twice, within days of each other.  Which is extraordinary in and of itself, don’t you think?

The first time freaked me out I don’t mind telling you.  I’m still talking to myself.  There’s a gal I’ve known most of my life — by which I mean, we first met when I was about eight or nine years old.  That’s most of your life, right?

She, her three siblings and their parents, lived a block away from where I lived, in Montreal, with

Day 263. Great Escape

Last December, Claire over at Word By Word reviewed “The Bridge Club”, Patricia Sands’ first book. Claire’s a fabulous reviewer and, the more I read, the more I wanted to read it. So, thanks to modern technology, it was downloaded and on my iPad in mere seconds.

It’s a book about a group of women and their friendship. A friendship they began as young women. Over the years the friendship grew stronger and stronger; and they became closer and closer. They were there for each other through thick and thin. Heartbreak and happiness, marriage, divorce and widowhood, sickness and health. The more they went through, the closer they became.

I loved the story because I saw my own friendships in it. I loved it, because the older I get, the more my friendships mean to me. The more I appreciate them. The more I count on them. And depend on them. I also loved it, because it takes place in Toronto, which I didn’t know when I bought it. So as I read, I visualized. I was there, with them. I could see exactly where they were, all the time.

The story was set here because the author, Patricia Sands, and her husband live here. And lo and behold, because she had read an exchange between Claire (Word By Word) and me, she (Patricia) decided to check out my blog. Happily she liked what she read and started following me. And one day, she commented we should meet for coffee. Which we did; and we talked and talked and talked. Like old friends. Like women do.

That’s when she told me she had another book, “The Promise of Provence”, coming out, in the not too distant future. She was at the

Day 221. A Void

I realized something this morning.  But I have no idea what prompted the thought.  From the day I first learned to read, there’s never been a day when I haven’t had my nose buried in a book.

Until recently.

Honestly, I don’t remember when the last time was, I curled up with a good book.  And got so involved in the story, I lost track of time.  Not wanting to put the book down, even for a minute, to go to the bathroom.

Or talk on the phone.  Or make a cup of tea.  Or have a snack.  Or eat dinner.  Or go to sleep.

My life has been filled with books I loved so much, I’d have to read them, cover to cover, in a day.  And all night, if necessary.  There have been hundreds of all-nighters, during my lifetime.

Always, dreading the end, actually.  Wanting them never to end.  The books, not the nights.