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I dropped in to visit a friend on my way home from taking my garbage to the dump yesterday morning, and she asked, “What’s going on with the bank in Mexico? I’ve been checking your blog to see if there’s an update…”

Sorry, folks. I guess I left you hanging. I hope it didn’t ruin your holidays.

I returned here for the express purpose of transferring the funds from the sale of my Guanajuato house last year from my Mexican bank account to my Canadian one. I had tried various ways of doing it remotely, but nothing would do but showing up in person.  Of course, while…

Well, here I am again in Guanajuato, and after insisting to anyone who would listen that this was probably my last trip here, I am feeling very happy to be back in this familiar and welcoming city—and all bets are off! The timing coincides with the publication of the 13th…

It was two years ago today that Jack died. They’ve been strange years for me, adjusting to living alone, learning to manage the tasks that had generally fallen to him, trying to find a way to navigate the aging process on my own, and slowly emerging from grief—at first a…

I have just purchased a piano—ridiculous on so many counts. One, I don’t play very well at all. Two, I have a perfectly acceptable digital piano. Three, I am generally in the process of divesting myself of goods, not accumulating them. Four, I don’t really have a great place to…

An update to last week’s post. The Stuff of a Life is now available on both amazon.com and amazon.ca Local friends–instead of ordering online, plan to come to the launch, September 15, 7-9 pm, at The Loft on the third floor of the Algoma Conservatory of Music. It will be…

Really, I wasn’t. The Stuff of a Life HAS been published, and I am currently waiting for an order of books to show up here to be sold locally. But for some reason, it is not showing up on Amazon, so I’ve been putting off an announcement until I could…

I’ve announced the upcoming publication of my collection of essays—The Stuff of a Life—so often that you’d be forgiven for assuming it’s all a hoax. Sometimes I think that myself. Life has interfered, it’s true. But my courage has waned as well. The book will be published by Embajadoras Press,…

I’ve been proofreading what I truly hope is the last “examination copy” of my new book, a collection of essays I’m calling The Stuff of a Life. It’s a bit boring, to tell the truth. The proofreading—I hope not the book. I wrote it, revised it, edited it, re-read it, re-revised…

It was an intriguing fact about him, this young man who seemed interested in me. His middle name was Alcott. He was a direct descendent of Louisa May Alcott on his mother’s side. I was, indeed, impressed, having been raised on Little Women.  Later, it turned out, the connection was less direct.…

I know, I know. I’ve said it quite a few times over the past couple of years. But this time it’s true. My long-promised essay collection is coming out soon. One more examination copy to check for missed typos and minor errors, and then it will be available from Amazon…

My basement door is an old, farmhouse door that opens from a small entry porch, which was intended to be the back entrance to the house but is the only one we’ve ever used. The basement (aka cellar) door looks welcoming enough, but you probably don’t want to go there..…

Just this morning I put the finishing touches on a holiday blog post that struggled to say anything festive given the general state of the world. Climate disasters, failing democracies, plague and pestilence, not to mention personal loss. The world is going to hell in a handbasket. I tried to…

My blog is back up–thanks to the help of my great-nephew-in-law. I guess that’s what he is. His name is Phillip and I’m very grateful for his patience and expertise! I had intended to blog regularly during my month in Guanajuato, where I spent all of October dealing with the…

In the immortal words of Kermit the Frog, “It’s not easy being green.” I’ve been doing some touch-up painting on our camp/cottage on Lake Superior. It feels a bit like a visual game of whisper-down-the-alley. You remember that game—where the first player whispers something in the ear of the second…

I don’t remember the exact moment it dawned on me, but I do remember an awareness in middle childhood of the extraordinary improbability of being me. Who I was, where I was. In my only concrete memory, I am sitting on a friend’s front porch—I was probably about eleven—and asking…

In the last months, I have found myself developing little rituals to fill the spaces that used to be filled by companionship. A brief good morning to the person who isn’t there on the other side of the bed. A first cup of coffee in the living room, as before,…

Exactly 56 years ago, the world’s attention was on Selma, Alabama. The issue was voter registration. Sadly, here we are again. But this is a retrospective post, so I’ll leave comments on the current state of affairs in the US for those who are living them. In 1965, both Jack…