Peter and I recently celebrated our 4th anniversary of moving from the country to the city. Are we happy with our new home? I hope that the upbeat tone of my blog posts has told you the answer to that.

I have often written about the joys of living in our new neighbourhood: kayaking down the Humber River to the lake, feeding the deer in the cemetery, walking to local markets and festivals, hopping on the subway to explore downtown. I’ve also told you about the happiness we have found in our new house: swinging on the patio with the grandkids, hosting pandemic Christmas parties in the garage, reaping the bountiful produce from Peter’s vegetable garden, and looking after the mice in the sunroom. (Yes they were in a cage!).

Oh there have been a few challenges. You might remember that, when we first moved in, our grandson Ben, who was 2 at the time, went for a walk with us and loudly proclaimed to everyone: “Road broken, Nonno!” And indeed it was: potholes, cracks and crumbling curbs everywhere. In fact it still is broken, only worse because the road construction I wrote about in April of this year is still not finished. Now we live with potholes as well as porta-potties, and decorative orange cones.

And there was the time the sink collapsed into the cupboard below. Or the toilet that broke when our 2 favourite repairmen were on holidays. But, for the most part, we have been really happy with our new lives. So, when we heard that my niece Amy and her new husband and son were coming from out west to visit us, we couldn’t wait to show them around. We started making lists of things we needed to do to get ready.

First we tackled the sleeping arrangements. As we have only one guest bedroom, where would the son sleep? Would he like the garage with no Christmas decorations? Since the mice have moved on, would he like the sunroom – with no blinds, and a saggy sofa bed? Or would he prefer the basement with no bed at all? Our daughter came to the basement’s rescue with a blow-up mattress, we added a couple of chairs, and we renamed the space “The Lower Level.” Perfect.

I was on a roll! I hit the kitchen and began cleaning out cupboards and drawers. Then I remembered the toaster, the one with capacity for 4 slices which now only toasted 2 slice at a time. It was hard enough for just Peter and me at breakfast. How would 5 of us manage? A new toaster must be purchased! Then I moved on to the living room and noticed that the 3 lamps had light bulbs with 3 different shades of white. Oh No – Decor disaster!

Before I had time to deal with this calamity, Peter called me outside. How were we going to get the geraniums to bloom for the guests’ arrival? Would some high-powered fertilizer do the trick? Could we manage to get the ivy to grow longer and cover the cracks in the wall below in just a few weeks? What could we do about the yellow spots in the grass where a visiting dog had recently peed? This was a tricky one for sure.

Suddenly we looked at each other and started laughing at our foolishness. Maybe a less time-consuming approach was in order. Maybe we could just keep our guests so busy chatting with us that they wouldn’t even notice all the flaws. Peter began brushing up on on all his favourite anecdotes, and I searched the newspapers for human interest stories. For added support, we invited more people to visit. Maybe there was no need to be home…sick at all.

Sue

The news story that is top of mind for Canadians these days is the death of Queen Elizabeth II. For all of us reading this post, she has been an ongoing presence in our lives. I remember seeing her when I was only 4, in 1951. She was still a princess, riding on the back of a train and waving to the crowds as she travelled through my home town. And in 2001 I visited Her home – Buckingham Palace, and saw her beloved horses in their stables.

Together all of us watched the Queen at parades, horse events, ceremonies, weddings, funerals. Through those many years we read about the Queen in magazines, books and newspapers. Her story was on the radio, then on television, and later movies. And Netflix – The Crown – was the most popular Netflix series to date. The Queen visited Canada many times and on 7 occasions she came to Toronto. She loved Canada, and us.

Recently, as I have ben following the news stories about TIFF- the film festival that put Toronto on the world stage, I have been wondering – did the Queen ever go to TIFF? She was an admirer of our Canadian devotion to multiculturalism, so she would have been impressed by this year’s line-up: Sarah Polley’s film, Women Talking, about the Mennonite community; Harry Styles in My Policeman, covering the LGBTQ community, Stephen Williams’ Chevalier, describing the black community, or Scarborough, relating to poor and disabled kids. Did Queen Elizabeth ever attend? I can find no evidence of that. But she DID tour Toronto’s largest film studio, Pinewood, with Prince Philip, in 2010.

Pinewood has been involved in hundreds of films, many of them shown at TIFF. This includes Canadian-made Schitt’s Creek – much of which was filmed in Toronto. Would the Queen have laughed at this series, or would she have been offended by the obvious reference to fecal matter? Did the Queen realize just how many movies have actually been filmed in Toronto? Was she jealous of our very own castle, Casa Loma, used as the set for many movies such as Chicago, Scott Pilgrim vs The World, or Cocktail, to name a few? Or what about The Shape Of water, winner of several Academy Awards, filmed almost entirely in Toronto? How would the stately Queen have felt about a woman falling in love with a squishy green aquatic being, not at all like her charming, handsome Prince Philip?

And finally, Toronto has the dubious honour of being the home of Downsview Park Studio where the TV series Suits, starring Meghan Markle, was filmed. Prince Harry actually visited Meghan on set in 2017 when he was in Canada for the Invictus Games. Not soon after that, Meghan’s character was married off – just as she planned to be married off to Harry. Now how did the Queen feel about THAT? Was Canada still her second favourite country after that bit of gossip which led to a family rift? We hope so.

Rest In Peace, Your Majesty.

Sue

You just never know what topic will be presented on this site!

These days our grandchildren seem to have lots of pets: dogs, cats, fish, gerbils, even mice. But, when Peter was a little boy growing up in Italy, pets were considered useless. An animal was something that needed to earn its keep. Occasionally a stray cat, for example, would be given a home in a barn so it could keep down the mouse population.

Peter’s pet was a donkey, Bello, who held a special place in his heart. Bello was a brown standard donkey, known in Italian as “asino” and boy could he work! When Peter had to deliver lunch to the workers in the fields, Bello would carry the lunches in his saddle bags. When grapes and olives had to be transported from the fields, Bello would help Peter deliver them to the processing factory. When Peter had to travel a long distance, he would jump on Bello’s back and they would ride off together.

After moving to Canada, Peter had few donkeys in his life, although he might tell you he ran into a few asses from time to time. And he often told his grandkids stories about Bello. He didn’t really see any donkeys up close until our honeymoon in Corfu, where he patted one on a country hike. When we visited Santorini on the same trip, donkeys carried tourists up to the beautiful village perched on top of a steep hill. Peter and I took the funicular up to the village, but we rode donkeys back down, carefully trying to avoid the poop where possible. It was a slow and smelly trip.

Recently I heard about a new tourist attraction not far west of Toronto – a Donkey Sanctuary. Would Peter like to visit? OF course he would! He savoured the thought of this place all through the summer until there was only 1 weekend left, Labour Day Weekend, before the sanctuary would close for the season. Due to heavy traffic, it took us almost 2 hours to get there. But Peter entertained me with stories about Bello and his antics as we drove. He was in a donkey trance by the time we arrived at the sanctuary. And there they were – over 100 donkeys at last count. They were in the fields, in the barns, in the stables,. We wandered over to the closest paddock where donkeys were waiting at the fence.

And then I fell in love. Donkeys are adorable! They come in 3 different sizes: miniature, standard (the most common), and mammoth (about the size of a horse). They come in different colours too: grey with white splotches, brown with a few black stripes, taupe with grey markings. Sometimes they wear fashion accessories; see-through masks or leggings to protect them from the nuisance of flies. They are docile and good-natured, letting us pat their ears or tickle their noses, although we didn’t try to kiss them.

The Donkey Sanctuary is a non-profit property, run mostly by volunteers, and paid for with donations. It accepts and fosters donkeys that are victims of neglect, abuse, and abandonment. There is a training centre and a medical facility on campus. And of course you must pas through the gift shop on your way out. There’s also an educational component where we learned some interesting fats. For example, did you know that donkeys are related to horses and zebras, all part of the Equine family? While horses are believed to have originated in Eurasia, donkeys and zebras came from Africa.

So, the next time your grandchildren are asking for a pet, take them to the Donkey Sanctuary near Guelph and get them a miniature donkey. It would be perfect! But. after you get their Bello home, be prepared for the distraught parents to tell you to kiss their ass.

Sue

Southampton lounges on a beach that rivals the best in the world: smooth white sand stretching for ages along the coast of Lake Huron; waves crashing, seagulls soaring overhead. But it is not your traditional beach town: no burger joints, ice cream stands or Tee-shirt huts; few umbrellas shading bikini wearers or speedo-clad sunbathers.

Southampton has class. Fill your days with a walk to the library, the art gallery or the theatre. Admire stately century homes facing the streets. During the summer stroll past the tennis club, the hub of social activity. Drop by on Cups Day as the teachers queue up along the net and their students use them as targets to practise their newly-learned skills. Or stay to watch as trophies are handed out to young and old. In the winter, visit the curling club where like-minded folks hang out on the ice and in the lounge, sharing dreams of summer.

Southampton welcomes shoppers. Some clothing boutiques are so high-end that you need to make an appointment just to browse. Antique stores invite bargain hunters and collectors alike. At the other end of the shopping spectrum is the Southampton Market, a mix of Value Village and Honest Ed’s: creaky wooden floors at odd angles, filled with bins of bargains and shelves of knick-knacks. Don’t stare too long at the kitchen utensils – you could fall into a trance.

Southampton residents love ice cream. Visit FUN Ice Cream Parlor, selling the popular Kawartha Dairy brand, and be prepared to stand in line. Watch when a couple order 4 cones each and then run-walk them down the street, hoping to make it home before they all melt. Laugh as a 3-year-old boy’s chocolate ball of heaven falls on the ground. He picks it up dirt and all, deftly plops it back in the cone, and continues licking.

Southampton is a natural paradise. Wander the trail along the shore of Fairy Lake and watch turtles mating, ducks and swans gliding by. Take in the water fountain in the middle and the alluring tree sculptures carved into tree trunks on the banks. Or go for a longer hike at McGregor’s Point a few kilometers south. Trails vary in length and offer different views of the natural environment. Try not to step on the geckos or tree frogs underfoot. Keep your eye out for an “active bear” sighted recently.

And of course, visit the beach. Walk along the boardwalk which stretches from one end of the town to the other. Stop for a rest on one of the many comfortable benches along the way, while your grandchildren take a turn on the swings or build a sand castle along the shore. Then visit the clean and welcoming bathrooms so they can wash their hands. On Friday nights, finish your walk at the Flagpole where a bagpiper entertains you.

But most of all, watch the sunset. Whether it’s cloudy or clear, the sun works magic in the Southampton sky.

Sue

hanging out in Toronto!

Many of us seniors have bad dreams about Shakespeare. We think back to our grade 12 English class where we studied Hamlet or Macbeth or another one of his murderous tragedies. We remember those 40-minute classes where we listened to a tape recorder playing scene after scene in deadly monotone, as we slowly felt our head sinking towards the desk and a nap. Or we think back to our homework: memorizing lines we barely understood, and then reciting them the next day in front of the entire class. When we were desperate, we made a trip to a bookstore for a copy of Cole’s Notes.

These days Shakespeare is redeemed for us by a trip to the Festival Theatre in Stratford or another venue, where we can watch expert actors bring those plays to life. Twice in the past weeks Peter and I have watched performances that have reminded us of why this 400-year-old guy is still around. Still attracting big crowds. Still relatable to our lives in the 21st century.

Two weeks ago we saw & Juliet, one of the Mirvish shows for this year. The idea behind the plot is that Shakespeare’s wife, Anne Hathaway, decides to challenge her husband about the ending of the tragedy Romeo and Juliet. “Why does it have to be so sad?” she asks. “Why does Juliet have to die? Why can’t she just go off and start her life over?” After a lot of arguments that you have probably lived through yourself, Will gives in. A happy wife is a happy life, as the saying goes.

Anne takes Will’s writing quill and sets out to rewrite the story’s ending. Juliet, recovering rather quickly from her grief at finding Romeo dead, heads to Paris and finds other opportunities to fall in love. The show is smart, funny, and full of energy. The themes are timeless: women’s rights, gay marriage, parents letting go. The ending is satisfying. The audience members are on their feet singing and clapping,

Last wee we went to High Park to watch As You Like It, one of Shakespeare’s comedies. We packed up a picnic supper; with sandwiches, condiments and some wine concealed in a water bottle. We grabbed our folding outdoor chairs and drove there early so we could get good seats: on top of a hill, where we could look down on the stage. We had an hour to enjoy our picnic and study the set, a forest scene within a forest. The High Park trees serve as a backdrop to the plastic vines and cardboard flowers that decorate the 2-level stage.

This show pretty much follows the original script, with a few extra mannerisms and inside jokes to remind us that Shakespeare can be tweaked to suit a modern audience. Although some of the dialogue requires careful listening, the actors exaggerate their lines to help us along. We watch as 4 couples – a pair of disguised Royals, the court jester and his partner, an inter-racial couple, and a shepherd and his goat herd lover – all of them find their way through the forest. And then they all find love. Once again the theme is timeless: love can flourish in many forms, settings, and variations. And once again, at the end of the performance, the folks in the audience are all standing and cheering,

It just goes to show you that old Will Shakespeare never really does get old. He just reinvents himself to suit the times. Is there a lesson here for the rest of us?

Sue

Last Friday, the day that Peter and I usually do “research” for the next blog post, I was still feeling a little weak from my bout with pneumonia in Newfoundland. Where could we go that would be fun but not over 10,000 steps? To be honest, I was dreaming of less than 5,000.

It was a beautiful day and Lake Ontario was calling us. We drove to our usual parking area near our favourite picnic table, and discovered that the parking lot was closed for construction! We would have to be flexible. So we drove next door, to an adjacent park, and found a parking spot there.

We sauntered down to the lake, enjoying the views: sailboats, sea-dos, swans, and lots of seagulls. There were plenty of other people too: walkers with baby strollers, lovers meandering along hand in hand, bikers pulling little kids in little wagons, and oldies like us sauntering by. We watched a worker arrive at a perennial garden in a golf cart and begin to weed, obviously enjoying his role as gardener. We saw a little girl anxiously waiting for her mother to hand her a bag of bread, impatient to feed the ducks. Every time her throw was a little short, she yelled “Sorry!” to the ducks. So Canadian.

Then it was time for lunch. Peter offered to walk north to a nearby take-out restaurant and pick up some Thai food, while I waited on a bench. Then our plan was to walk back, since we couldn’t drive, to our favourite picnic table in the first park. I found the perfect bench in the shade and settled down. Soon I began to notice that, not only were cars forbidden from entering the parking lot, but also pedestrians were forbidden from the park too. NO! I saw a construction worker guarding the entrance and I went to have a word with him. How could the entire park be closed down to everyone, cars and people, in the middle of summer? He confirmed that it was.

Feeling very disappointed, I turned around towards my shady bench to wait for Peter with the food, and there, spread out all over my bench, was somebody else! It was almost too much to bear!! OK well maybe that’s a bit too dramatic… So I said to the guy, whom I immediately named Dick, “Do you think I could share a little corner of this bench while I wait a few minutes for my husband?” In a loud voice, he replied:

“NO! I definitely need All of this bench for my stuff. I have a LOT of food.”

“But I will only be a few minutes! As soon as my husband arrives, we will be on our way.”

“NO, definitely Not,” he argued. “There are lots of other benches here that you can have.”

“But they are all in the sun!” I whimpered. By now I was almost in tears.

“Plus I will be smoking a LOT of marijuana. So NO.”

Now I was getting angry. Just beside the bench was a large flat rock, also in the shade. I moved over to the left, about 3 feet, dropped my stuff, and sat down on the rock, defiantly. Dick looked shocked. He couldn’t get rid of me! HA It was a stand-off!

Next he took off his shirt. Where was this going now? He flexed his muscles and strutted over to the garbage can, while I got out my phone to take a photo so you, dear readers, could at least get Dick’s back view. But I was too slow and he almost caught me. I quickly switched the screen to the Wordle puzzle.

And so we continued to play these games – staring, smirking, sneering, snorting, sneaking sideways glances – for almost 20 minutes! Then he let out one final snort, began aggressively packing up all his food and pot, rose up, and marched boldly off. YES!! I moved 3 feet to the right, My right, so to speak, and sat back down on the shady bench.

Not long afterwards, Peter arrived with the food. As we searched for another picnic table, I could hardly wait to tell him about my adventure. Even an innocent walk in the park can be great fodder for a blog post.

Sue

Photo of Dick replaced by CN tower…much more photogenic

It used to be that log-term budget planning included saving for a new fridge, winter boots for all the kids who were growing like weeds, and every decade or so, a new car. These days we need to add another budget line – for replacement technology.

Most people I know, including children, have 3 devices: a phone, a mainframe computer or laptop, and a tablet. Some even have a 4th, an e-reader. It’s a tricky business to replace each of them on an ongoing basis. But a first-world definition of modern day chaos is when they all break down at once!

This happened to me during the past year. My iphone began doing strange things like not sending emails. Then my ipad got dropped for the second time and the screen cracked diagonally, giving me little finger cuts every time I swiped. And finally dear readers, as you know, my laptop refused to publish photos on my blog. What to do?

I started by replacing my phone. These days you can’t go anywhere without a smart phone. Never mind keeping track of your partner when you go shopping together in a big mall. You also need a phone to order concert tickets and then present them at the box office. Fly to another country and you need the ArriveCAN app. Go to a restaurant and then wait for the host to call you when your table is ready. Order the perfect shoe size online when the shoe store is sold out. And take that beautiful picture of a sunset that you hadn’t expected to see.

I love my new iphone. It does everything. One day I even worked up enough courage to order airline tickets on it. And then I loaded the boarding passes into my “wallet” and took them to the airport. I don’t mind admitting that I was so scared, I made a print copy just in case. But even at the very crowded and chaotic Pearson airport – there were the boarding passes – right there in my “wallet.” Eureka!

As a result of this success, I decided to ditch my ipad and just buy a new laptop. There are a lot of brands to choose from on the market. I heard so many comments in favour of Apple, it almost seemed like a cult. I visited the Apple store to see if I wanted to join. The clerk at the door signed me up for an appointment in the next half hour with a technical specialist. After 45 minutes I discovered that my name had been accidentally dropped from the appointment list. When I finally met this “techie” she didn’t know the answer to several of my basic questions and she had to go searching for somebody even more special. Then I was told that I needed to speak to somebody at the “genus bar” for which I needed another appointment – in 3 hours. I decided this cult was not for me.

Next I turned to You-Tube and watched several videos comparing various android laptop models. Once again there were so many choices to make: how much memory? touch-screen? which version of Windows? And so on. Eventually I sorted it all out and chose a model I wanted. Then I looked for a sale. Late one evening Peter found one on sale in a COSTCO ad. I was so excited I could hardly sleep.

I woke up early the next day and got out my iphone to order my new laptop. But alas there were complications. I eventually figured out that this ad had come from COSTCO.com, and the sale did not apply to Canadian products. No, I did not burst into tears. Instead I patriotically bought the Canadian version at full price, and it is expected to arrive in just one week!

Now all I have to do is set it up…

Sue

If you’re wondering where to go on your next vacation, why not consider…Canada?

Peter and I recently spent a lovely week in Newfoundland, Canada’s easternmost province, in the north Atlantic. It’s a place that many travellers have avoided, perhaps because of the distance, the weather, the unknown. Perhaps you should reconsider.

The Rock has been around for ages. There is evidence that First Nations peoples lived there about 9,000 years ago. The first Europeans, who landed in the north, were the Vikings led by Leif Erikson, about 1,000 years ago. In 1492 John Cabot landed, followed by another British group that tried to establish a settlement. They lasted only through one winter of snow, starvation and disease, before retreating. Fortunately another, hardier, group arrived a few years later and persevered.

So why should you visit The Rock?

Go for the scenery. It is a breathtaking coastal drive, along the Atlantic Ocean, following winding roads past cliffs, through tree-covered undulating hills, beside lakes, rivers, and ponds. Quaint wooden homes surround community churches at the centre of little villages like Plate Cove or Marysvail or the world-famous Dildo. Bustling fisheries in Ferryland and elsewhere support the economy with cod, salmon, and more recently, lobster harvests. If you get hungry, folksy restaurants like Nanny’s Root Cellar Kitchen await your arrival, with home-cooked seafood chowder and mouthwatering blueberries on a cloud.

Go to see the wildlife. Let the whales entertain you with their breaching, their tail flips, their blows. Don’t be surprised if they swim underneath your boat. Smile at the cute faces of the puffins with their colourful beaks and feet. Watch the gannets and eagles soar overhead. Stare in wonder as you pass a family of caribou grazing by the side of the road.

Go to visit the capital city, St. John’s. Rows upon rows of brightly-painted wooden homes sit precariously along steep hills. Water St. running along the harbour welcomes cruise ships and tour buses along the lengthy pedestrian walkway; home to restaurants, pubs, quaint shops and an outdoor music venue. If museums are your thing, visit The Rooms, a modern glass building with a stunning view of the harbour entrance. It houses a military museum, art gallery, natural history museum, and theatre.

Go to meet the people. As depicted in the Broadway success, Come From Away, the people are among the friendliest and most helpful you could hope to meet on any vacation. Don’t let their unique accent put you off – they are the real deal.

Go because it’s Canada. Not in recent memory have Peter and I had such an interesting holiday that was so effortless. We had no passports, no vaccine documents, no customs forms to worry about. Souvenir shopping was a breeze. Buy as much screech, as many cod-shaped pillows, as you can stuff into your suitcase.

There is no language barrier. We had no need to keep track of 2 currencies, trying to separate dimes from pesos or loonies from euros. It all stayed in 1 wallet. When travelling between Toronto and St. John’s, the time difference is 1 1/2 hours – no jetlag! And healthcare. At our age this is always a worry when we are away. We can pack our suitcase full of tylenol, gravol, immodium, and throat lozenges. But what if the unexpected happens? And it did.

Midway through the trip I developed a bad cough, chills and a fever. The whole group shivered with fear as I had one Covid test, and then another. Both were negative. The group relaxed but I was still sick and needed medical attention. Peer and I were dropped off at a local hospital, I got a chest x-ray, a medical analysis and a diagnosis – pneumonia- in under 2 hours. I left with a prescription for antibiotics, everything paid for with my OHIP card!

For our next adventure, Canada is certainly going to be on the list. Put it on yours too. Maybe even consider a trip to The Rock.

Sue

Last week, when I was doing research in Muskoka, many dramatic moments occurred. But I only have 600 words so I decided to use photos to tell the story instead:

In the lake:

Meanwhile:

And inside:

And soon the week is over.

We go out to celebrate:

Hope we get invited back next year!

Sue

(No this is not Tuesday. It’s Friday night. But next Tuesday I will be doing research..)

Recently I had a chance to go back to the country – not to visit friends or restaurants, or to enjoy the country breezes – although we often do that. This time I went back to give a talk about my writing. I was invited by a writers’ group that I had helped organize back in about 2007. While it’s still on my mind, I want to share some of the highlights of my writing “career” with you, dear readers. This is not the stuff of best-selling autobiographies, but it has some funny parts.

I started writing as a young girl in grade 8, when my teacher asked me to be the editor of the class yearbook. Of course I saved that yearbook; printed on an old duplicating machine which gave off those heavenly alcoholic fumes; now faded and tattered. The contents are very amateurish, full of errors and omissions. But that experience gave me the love of the printed word. I didn’t stop to think that writing is not a lucrative career – which is a good thing!

The next step in my writing career began in university where I started a quarterly newsletter on my floor in residence. My last name was Allcock at the time so I called the newsletter Allcock and Bull. It was full of gossip and stories about life in residence, and it was copied using carbon paper, 2 pages at a time. After graduating, I abandoned writing for a while, but when my kids were born and we lived in a family neighbourhood, I began writing a similar kind of column for our quarterly newsletter, the Henry Farmer. I did that for 15 years and got a lot of positive feedback. But no salary.

As an educator I wrote a few articles for professional journals and got paid about $150 per article which works out to around 1 1/2 cents a word. I also answered requests in the Toronto Star for material such as “Describe your experience moving from a house to a condo.” I especially remember that one because a photographer came to my condo to take a photo. He asked if my cat could be in the picture with me; apparently the cat was much cuter. But I got $100 anyway.

When I moved to the country to live with Peter, I became an editor of a local arts magazine, King MOSAiC. It was great fun. I wrote a few articles and enjoyed interviewing the various neighbourhood celebrities. But this role wasn’t lucrative at all. In fact one time I interviewed the owner of a popular restaurant whose specialty was butter tarts. As we talked, I could see the yummy butter tarts in the display case nearby. I guess the owner didn’t notice me salivating all over my notes, because the interview ended with only a handshake.

In 2018 Peter and I moved back to the city and I searched around for another opportunity to get my words on a page somewhere. And that’s when I came up with a 21st. century idea – a blog! I still love writing Seventy In The City, which is now 3 years old, and I know you enjoy your Tuesday morning fix because I get a lot of positive comments. But again, no $$$.

On my days off, Wednesday to Monday, I have been doing some other writing. My husband Peter, aka Pietro, loves to tell stories. And, after 15 years together, I know them all by heart. Peter’s life has been propelled forward by education, and a lot of the stories have a school focus. One day I thought: a compilation of these stories could actually become a book, with a theme. And so Pietro Goes To School was born.

Then I had another thought: maybe I could Sell this book. Maybe I could even make some money! Maybe I could become a best-selling author!! OK so maybe I was getting ahead of myself…

Anyway, after many rejection letters from publishers, I had the book published by a Toronto Public Library service and began to distribute it. And I think I may have found a buyer! A school is considering using my little book as resource material for adult students. This would be the best: a tribute to Pietro and his commitment to education and, after all these years, a little remuneration for me.

Sue

PS This piece is not meant to solicit funds from loyal readers. Honest!