Monthly Archives: July 2006

In Which She Admits How Much Of A Fraidy-Cat She Truly Is

Thank you everyone for your expressions of support and sympathy for the tree massacre. We’ll be planting the crabapple this fall, and in the meantime we’ll be putting up eight-foot strips of lattice and planting fast-growing vines to screen our yard from the one behind us, and to provide some sort of shade so that Liam and I can play in the yard again. If the lilacs don’t die, they’ll take about four years to come back properly, and provide privacy and shade.

Liam is off at daycare again today. He woke up four times last night after we got home around 11.30, one time enough to need to be picked up and cuddled back to sleep. Oddly enough, the loud electrical storm we had didn’t seem to bother him when things were crashing and flashing right above the house for a good half hour. But he woke up roughly every couple of hours, which meant that we did too, to lie in bed and wait to see if he’d wake up completely or just half-awaken and cry a bit before self-soothing back to sleep. As a result we didn’t sleep that well, either. Good thing we had an excellent evening out relaxing beforehand.

We think his molars are coming in, because the random biting has started up again and he sticks anything and everything into the back of mouth to gnaw. That might be one of the reasons he woke up so often, too.

I ran around and did errands this morning after dropping Liam off, and one of them involved going to the Chapters on the West Island to kick around for an hour until the shop I needed to visit in Fairview mall opened at 10:00. (And the only thing I’m going to say about the second shop is that I seem to have reached a pants size that’s smaller than I wore before I was pregnant. Smaller than I’ve ever worn, actually. I’m not sure how that happened.) And while I was in the bookstore, I did something that absolutely terrified me: I asked a clerk about their policy on authors signing shelf stock.

I am incredibly shy. To admit in person, in real-life public, that I wrote not only one book but three is a huge thing. A huge, terrifying thing. I have been in dozens and dozens of shops that carry my books, and I just kind of see them there on the shelf, then smile a bit and look away quickly, because heaven forbid anyone sees me and somehow intuits that those books were written by me, because then people will make a fuss and look at me, and I will melt from confusion and embarrassment. Not because I’m ashamed of my books, you understand. I’m very proud of them. Just not in a loud “look what I did!” sort of way. (Journal completely aside, of course. Writing about it is different. And even here I tend to worry about the flaws and the challenges more than anything else.) This is the main reason why I still haven’t done an event or a signing.

I managed to not ask this question of the five friendly staff members who paused to wish me a good day and ask if I needed any help while I wandered around. There was just something so calm and kind about Jessica (nametags are so helpful) when she was scanning the books I was purchasing, so I asked her. And she said that often they had authors in for events, or they dropped off consignment copies, and was I looking for a signed copy of something in particular? And then I had to say that no, I was, um, an author, and they had three copies of my books on the shelf, and did they want them signed? She said then that she was pretty sure the store would love me to sign them, took my name, and called the manager to verify. The manager was indeed thrilled, and said yes yes yes, and so off I went to fetch the two copies of Solitary Wicca and the single copy of Spellcraft (no Green Witch, alas), and I signed them.

The Indigo chain puts stickers that indicate signed books on autographed copies.

So there; that was today’s terribly big adventure. Hurrah to Jessica. I hope she has an excellent day.

Now I have fourish hours in which to work on Swan Sister, do a draft outline of a table of contents for a book I proposed in case someone asks me for it, and practice the cello for a bit in prep for this weekend’s rehearsal.

Heartbroken

Oh, my gods — they’ve just cut down the huge lilac tree that stood behind our backyard fence. I went out to bring the laundry in off the clothesline and I saw the bare stumps of what was once a magnificent tree, broad and almost as tall as the powerlines, and they were naked, brutal, and ugly. Words can’t describe how dreadful it looks, how open and exposed the backyard suddenly feels.

Everything was fine an hour and a half ago when Liam and I were out there. And now, it’s gone.

I’m fighting tears. I loved that lilac tree.

UPDATE: They had a whack at the other lilac tree as well. HRH talked to the people who were cutting them down, and they swear they’re just trimming them so they’ll grow back thicker next year. HRH looked at them and said, “Yes, if you haven’t killed them, because you’re supposed to trim them in the spring, not the high heat of summer.” And ‘trim’ doesn’t mean a hack job leaving a couple of feet of bare trunks, like these people have done because they don’t know how to prune properly.

We’re getting a crabapple tree to give us shade and privacy, because this is ridiculous.

“There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.”

This is such a delightful idea:

RIP
Jane Austen
16 Dec 1775 – 18 Jul 1817
Goddess of Writers
Priestess of Irony

In memory of Rev. George Austen’s daughter, please leave condolences in the form of quotations &tc.

Don’t leave them here, though; or rather, you can if you like, but go to Peg Kerr’s journal and leave them there too, as that’s whence this was plucked.

The one I left was from the first chapter of Northanger Abbey:

[P]rovided that nothing like useful knowledge could be gained from them, provided they were all story and no reflection, she had never any objection to books at all. But from fifteen to seventeen she was in training for a heroine; she read all such works as heroines must read to supply their memories with those quotations which are so serviceable and so soothing in the vicissitudes of their eventful lives.

It’s always amused me.

Saner Summer

The air conditioner has been turned off, and we have thrown open every window we can throw open. It’s lovely and cool, a bit damp because of the rain, perhaps, but such a pleasant change from the oppressive and dangerous high heat and humidity. Plus it’s quieter. The humidity will be back tomorrow, so I’m appreciating this as much as I can today before we have to close everything up and turn the machine back on.

More tomato melts this morning for brunch, made with ai731‘s lovely and delicious garden tomatoes. We have a scattering of green tomatoes in our own garden that we’re waiting for, plus darling little cucumbers and alarmingly large squash for their age, for which we’ve constructed little frames so they won’t rot on the ground before they even ripen as they did last year. The leaves are over a foot and a half in diameter already. The onions seem to be doing quite well, too. Now, if the wave petunias in the front planters would just, well, wave properly, I think we’d be almost one hundred percent satisfied with this year’s garden.

Excellent Day All Around

Liam had an awesome day with his new caregiver! He napped longer over there than he usually does here, and I couldn’t be more thrilled about it. I’m so glad to have found someone I know and trust to care for him while I work, and that they get along so well.

I managed to write a book outline complete with table of contents today, as well as handling all the correspondence I had to handle. (At least, I think so. I always forget something, usually something that’s been carried over and carried over for a couple of weeks, if not more.)

Have I forgotten to mention that the series I helped pitch as consultant has been accepted, and now they’re looking to finalise the first couple of titles? One of for which I wrote a proposal? Updates as events warrant.