Emerging now from the fog of a (fake early) family Christmas. Kev and I have been stewing in nieces and nephew and friends and relations, endless games of Boggle and Clue and generous amazing gifts we will somehow have to pack into our suitcases today and wheel on to the plane to go back to Halifax. It’s been a whirlwind five days in Toronto and environs (mostly environs) and I really hate to leave. It’s so hard, always always. Won’t be back till July. Sigh.
But still to come, Latkepalooza on Saturday, which will engender the frying of many many many potato pancakes and lots of good times.
A short recovery, then Real, On-Time Christmas in Amherst, Moncton and environs. Mostly, again, environs.
Then a long, cold, dark winter with lots of writing in it.
Looking forward to it all, always.
Where does the time go? We were just in Newfoundland, and then suddenly, that was two weeks ago, and here it is December. And now I’m on that holiday rollercoaster, keeping my arms and legs inside the cart at all times and just enjoying the ride. I love this time of year, and this year, I seem to be loving it a little more than usual, even for me.
I am getting nothing done, writing-wise, and I am accepting that. January stretches out, empty, bleak, cold and waiting for me to fill it up, warm it up with sentences. So, that.
For now, I am just along for the ride.
There’s something about Homing-the-book that seems to resonate with local songwriters. Or maybe they’re vying for inclusion on some eventual soundtrack. Ryan MacGrath has a song inspired by the book. I haven’t heard it yet, but as with Steven Bowers‘s beautiful song about pigeons and coming home, I am beyond flattered to know that it exists. They’re both amazing songwriters, and if you haven’t checked them out yet, give yourself an early present, and go do so now!