Margaret Halsey

I am rereading a delightful old book my sister once sent me, called With Malice Toward Some by Margaret Halsey. It is a delicious and witty account of an American moving to pre-WW II England for a year, and her observations of the differences between the English and Americans.

I love her descriptions of the countryside, the people, the buildings, the weather. Her metaphors and similes are fresh and original. My favourite is when she is watching a cricket player wind up and throw the ball in that strange overhanded manner they use. She says it puts the startled foreigner in mind of a ten-year-old girl quitting the neighborhood baseball team in a towering huff.

Counting my Blessings

For some weird reason, I woke up this morning humming an old tune my great-grandmother used to sing. I don't know all the words, but it's about a girl named Belle, and I only remember snatches of it... "it blew Belle...We know that she's in heaven. She was too green to burn." Anyway, whatever the strange little song is, I've had Grandma's voice in my head all day. It has had a calming effect, has flooded me with nostalgia, and somehow has eased everything back into perspective for me. After the last two days of moping, I now find myself counting my blessings instead of feeling sorry for myself. I have kind friends who have sent me encouraging words. I spent a breezy hour playing ball with Brio at the park, where we met two darling little boys who joined right into our game with seamless confidence. Zucchini bread is in the oven and tomatoes are steaming on the stove...both tomatoes and zucchini being from my garden. I'm watching the Property Brothers on TV with my husband, whose paycheque did not bounce as feared. All in all, life is good.

Coping with Disappointment

What do you do when something you have counted on fails to materialize? What do you do when your original incentive for doing something has fallen flat and you can't get up the enthusiasm to do it anymore? How do you cope when your ego has taken a kick in the teeth?

These aren't idle questions; I'd really like to hear from my readers. My sales statement from the publisher arrived yesterday, and I am sorry to report that Desperate Measures has only sold just under 2,000 copies, which is pitiful. With the returns from the bookstores, the publisher actually lost money on it. Which means they took that out of the money from my other sales and so I didn't earn a penny with my writing in the last six months. Now I know writers tend to be overly dramatic people, and we weep and wail and gnash our teeth a lot on a regular basis, but this was a particularly nasty blow. I have always earned at least something. I had gone so far as to formulate fond plans for the money (stupid me). Secretly I think Desperate Measures was my best work, and it was certainly the most fun to write. My confidence is shaken. Maybe I'm not as good at it as I smirkingly thought. That's humiliating.

I write because it's a part of me, and I can sooner think of stopping breathing than stopping writing. Writing will always be in my life, but maybe the time has come to alter its role. I started promoting my work to publishers because it was fun. But the initial zing of seeing my name in print has gone long ago, and now I find myself caught in the race of deadlines and promotions, and the fun has lessened. I am writing what they want me to write, not what I feel I want to write. I have come to expect money for it, however pathetic the amount. And I feel I need to justify, somehow, the amount of time I'm spending at it to the neglect of other important things (like, um, housecleaning and sleeping and interacting with humans). I look back at the hectic past months, the writing sessions crammed in at 3:30 in the morning, the angst, and wonder if I've lost focus. So now I have to sit back and ask myself some questions about my motivations, my expectations, and my ability to sustain this. My desire to sustain this.

I'd welcome your thoughts. Which I'll read just as soon as I get back from Baskin Robbins. It's really the only answer at times like this. I might have to make it a double scoop.

Peaches!

Last night Jan came to help me bottle peaches. Her intent was to learn the process, but she was immensely helpful and we were done by 10:30. Usually peaches are a slog, involving an aching back, a sticky floor, and a bitter heart by the time all is done, but with someone new to chat with, the time zipped by. I am rewarded this morning by a counterful of gleaming golden jars, the contentment of the prospect of cobblers and pies for the coming year, and the knowledge that I have a new friend.

I think not...

Well, I should have known Brio wouldn't tolerate not being walked today. I managed to finish the tomatoes and salsa by 3:30, after hours of standing at the kitchen sink, and all I could think of was sitting down with a good book and vegging out for an hour...but no. Who can sit and relax with those laser beam eyes boring into yours and that big tongue lolling out in a doggy grin? You could see what he was thinking. It's time to go! Of course we're going! Are you ready? Ready to go? Why are you sitting? Out out out! Whee!

So we went, and the air was lovely and cool, and the sky was pearly blue and the grass was so green it hurt to look at it, and there went my amber and white dog, sailing over that expanse of green with his ears flapping and exquisite joy radiating from every hair. It's funny to hear him try to bark when his mouth is filled with a large fuzzy orange ball. He sounds like someone sneezing into a jar.

I have learned a trick to tire him out more quickly; I stand on a hill at one end of the park and throw the ball as high and far as I can. He races to get it like syrup pouring down the hill...but he has to run uphill to return the ball to me. So it wears him out faster. He collapses at last on his side, panting hard, the ball still in his mouth, and he rolls his eyes at me as if to say Just give me a minute. I'm not done yet! We sit and watch the clouds bump into each other for a moment. And then he's dropped the soggy ball at my feet and raced off again.

All in all a lovely and productive day. And there was still time to get home to that book and a bowl of cinnamon popcorn. Not chips and salsa. I've seen enough salsa for today.

                                                                       Lisandro Rota

Teeth and Tomatoes

Not much time to write this weekend, I'm sorry. Son Number Three got all four wisdom teeth out yesterday, and today I'm bottling tomatoes and making salsa. A bushel of peaches waits in the basement. The writing is on hold. The dogs will not get walked today. And I highly doubt much of anything else will happen anytime soon! Stay tuned...

Real Joy

A roller coaster this week! A good friend and member of our pipe band got his mission call for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints this week. He took a video of him opening the envelope and brought it for us to watch at band practice. When he read out that he was called to serve in Costa Rica, you could see a surge of delight run through his body, and he started jumping up and down. And when he got to the part about having to teach in Spanish, he danced right out of the camera frame.

It's a real treat to see honest joy, excitement, and goodness in an 18-year-old kid. The grin on his face will stay with me a long time. He's about to face the two most difficult years of his life, far from home, cut off from frequent contact with family and friends. He's putting school and career path on hold. He'll have to fend for himself, struggle with a new language, and learn a new culture. He'll have to be responsible for laundry, cooking, cleaning, shopping, and getting along with his assigned companion while keeping tough hours and working with the people he's teaching. He'll grow and learn and discover a lot about himself over the next two years, and he will come home an adult, not a kid. He's footing the bill for all of this with thousands of dollars he has diligently worked for and saved throughout his life.

And in the face of all this, he is overjoyed. And so am I! I couldn't be prouder that he is eager and worthy to serve, and I can't wait to go through the same experience with my own son in just a couple of years.