At the beginning of September, Mike and I once again went backcountry canoe camping with our friends Tracy and Kevin for 5 nights.  This year's theme: pack light.  We wanted to do a loop instead of an out-and-back like we've done in previous years, and our chosen route meant several portages, the longest about 3 km, and a different campsite every night.  As the longest portage we'd ever done previously measured under 500m, this at first seemed, perhaps, a little daunting.  So we planned ahead.

First, knowing we shouldn't pack the entire kitchen (only one small whisk and far less cutlery), obtaining light-weight equipment (tents, sleeping bags, sleeping pads, chairs, stove with fuel, etc.), and testing just how much weight we could each carry.  Next, figuring out what food to take (mostly freeze-dried packs), and making sure we ate the heavier food in the two days before the big portage.  Luckily, we started planning and prepping several months in advance, so we didn't have a huge rush the week before.  Perhaps we're starting to get the hang of this...

We started our trip by heading up toward Round Lake, stopping for a nice picnic lunch near Bracebridge along the way.  It has become our custom (this being our 3rd annual camping trip together) to stay at a Voyager Quest cabin the night before, enjoying a lovely supper prepared by the friendly staff.  This year, we got our canoes early and paddled them to the cabin in what turned out to be the windiest evening of paddling.  But, this enabled an early start the following morning, and that was the plan.

The day dawned bright and calm.  Early starts before the wind picked up would become key to pleasant paddling and maximizing our enjoyment of each campsite.  We made it across Round Lake to the Algonquin entrance, then through the river, through West and East Tea Lake, and finally into Mangotasi, a journey of 18 km, happily downwind.

Perhaps I should mention now, Mike started this journey with a sore back, yet kept a cheerful disposition, even knowing he'd have to carry a canoe over some potentially rough terrain after sleeping on the ground (well, on a thermorest on the ground).  He did not complain.  He did, however, come up with a philosophy that we all soon adopted: portaging is better if you think of it as a hike, carrying some stuff.

Our first full day off-grid took us a short distance to Biggar Lake, only about 6 km of paddling, including 3 small portages no longer than 500m.  Mike repeated them so as not to carry as much (once with canoe, then again with pack), and to stretch out his back (he had discovered in the weeks leading up to the trip that a good morning walk helped sort out the pain somewhat), while the rest of us tested out single-trips with our pack-light packs.  We had absolutely still waters and encountered few other paddlers.

We shared our site on Biggar with a variety of fun frogs and birds, enjoyed some swimming, and generally relaxed.

And then we headed out on another calm morning through Kawa and Upper Kawa Lakes (beautiful, as is most of Algonquin) toward Three Mile Lake, about 11.5 km total paddling and four portages totaling about 3 km.  Along the way, we saw cormorants, a bald eagle, and some frogs.

​Three Mile has some unfortunate history to it, including an island where, during a storm, a camper died after lightning struck a tree and fell on the poor sod.  Some people report uneasy feelings around that island.  Mike dubbed it 'Murder Island', and we decided to steer clear of it, just in case.  We did, however, encounter another spot that left us a little nervous.

As we approached a campsite, both Mike and I saw a man reading in a chair by the water's edge, its clear occupation prompting us not to look too close at it as a potential stopping point for the night.  However, a moment later, the man disappeared.  This caused some confusion, and Mike decided to investigate.  We pulled our canoe close; Mike got out and took a look around, finding no one and no equipment, and no indication that anyone had just vacated the area.  Tracy and Kevin, who pulled up nearby, were confused by our bewilderment, for they hadn't seen anyone, and wanted to know if we were stopping for the night.  Once we determined that, despite the decent quality of the camp, we really didn't want to share it with a reclusive ghost, we continued on our way, eventually reaching the 3 km portage, which had a campsite right beside it, though well sheltered.  We stayed there instead.  No Murder Island, no Ghost Island.  Probably a good choice.

An early morning start the following day, where Mike and Kevin took the canoes on ahead over the 3 km portage while Tracy and I packed up camp.  We enjoyed some tea and reading by the lake as we awaited the guys' return, then had breakfast and set off together for a nice hike while carrying things :)

Now we had reached Manitou Lake with warm, sunny weather.  We found the site we had so enjoyed last year unoccupied, so quickly made it our home for the rest of the day.  This involved Mike setting up our tarp, as our experience of Manitou usually included rain.  Manitou did not disappoint (as Mike said).  Though we managed some wonderful swimming beneath a cheerful sun in the early afternoon, late afternoon and evening brought high winds and plenty of rain with thunder and lightning.  Although the first burst of rain tapered off with a rainbow, we had multiple other drenchings.  We were very glad not to be the canoeists caught in that weather!  Instead, we kept cozy and dry beneath Mike's masterwork of tarping, blazing fire lighting up the darkness of the evening.  Happily, it stopped raining before we had to venture out to our tents (or the thunderbox) for the night.

The morning dawned misty and humid with a bit of a headwind.  We set off toward North Tea Lake, taking the east portage (a bit longer portage), which has a pretty waterfall where we paused for photos and a snack.  We had intended to use the same site as last year--a nice spot on an island--but it had poor options for shelter and tarp hanging, and we didn't trust the weather.  So we pushed ahead against the wind, foregoing this fair-weather site, followed a loon, and found a much better location across the lake with lots of space, not too far from the exit portage.  We spent a lovely, quiet, lazy afternoon, watching as the early weekend crowd started to arrive.

​The evening turned chilly, and we all layered up, but no one froze.  Light rain mixed with sun took us back through the river to Round Lake, but little wind hampered us, making for a pleasant paddle on our last day.

Until we got back to the vehicle, all packed up and ready to go.  Whereupon, we discovered that someone had taken down an old sign, but left the remnant spike in the ground, right about tire level, and right next to a new sign.  We had parked beside this new sign, as the only spot left when we arrived on the Saturday of a long weekend.  Sadly, the spike and the tire didn't get along well, especially not right after Kevin called to Mike: "Just gun it!"

But a temp tire, and the good folks at Kal Tire in Bracebridge saved the day, and we made it home all in one (mostly) piece.  And Mike's back?  Happily transformed by days of paddling, hiking with a canoe, and sleeping on the ground.  (It took about two days being home, back to the grind, for that to revert :( )

Another successful book fair, and by successful, I mostly mean "I sold some books to some people I have never met before."  Also met some great new authors (new to me, at any rate).  I may or may not have come out slightly ahead after buying a couple of books from fellow vendors.

On Sunday April 23, I attended the Stratford Book Fair at the Stratford Country Club, which is a very nice venue (pleasant to sit somewhere that includes huge windows and lots of light--had a great view of the rain, then snow, that chilled the day in the last hour or so of the Fair, which greatly reduced any potential customers).  Many great vendors--mostly other authors or publishers, but also some jewelry and candles, bookmarks, stones, and other artistic tidbits that go well with reading.  Quite a few fantasy, science-fiction, thriller/dark fiction, historical fiction selections, as well as some children and young adult titles.  A nice cross-section of fiction books with a myriad of protagonists available--backgrounds including the disabled, the marginalized, the LGBTQ community, strong leads of the female or male persuasion; pretty much any hero/heroine (or anit-hero/heroine) you might enjoy, so long as they're fictional.  A few people more interested in non-fiction and biographies might have found that less-than-satisfying, though I greatly appreciate the woman who bought my poetry book anyway :)

My best friend came to assist me, and she did a fantastic job, especially when I started to feel crappy.  Somehow, I made it through the day anyway and came home a few books lighter.

Looking ahead to future author events, I keep finding things on days that I've already booked something, which is a little frustrating, but that's life.  Hopefully I'll find another venue I can actually attend in the coming months!  In the meantime, I really have to get back on the horse and actually write something new.  Wish me luck!

As the weather turns cold and the dark nights stretch long, Mike and I often take some time to go somewhere warmer than winter in Southern Ontario.  We did so again this year, this time travelling with Jason, a friend whom Mike has vacationed with in previous years (someone he's known since kindergarten), who also enjoys getting out of the chill overcast of the beginning of the year.  This year, we chose Portugal for a 10-day get-away; although the first day doesn't count as it involved an overnight flight, and the last day doesn't count because the plane left at 10:30 in the morning.  Still, we had 9 nights in a climate that didn't have any snow.

Before I describe some of the wonderful sights we encountered, I need to paint a brief picture of the two months leading up to our trip, events that led to a physically and emotionally exhausted husband, and a bit of a hectic start.  Let's go back to just before Christmas...

We have learned in the Peasgood family not to make firm plans ahead of time, as something inevitably happens to mess up said plans (e.g. weather, illness).  So we didn't have anything firmly in place in regards to Christmas.  We knew we would see my family on Christmas Day, then we'd see who was around and healthy for Boxing Day and the following week, when Mike & I might head up to the cottage (possibly with other family members, possibly alone).  And then we learned that Mike's mom needed to go into palliative care.  She has suffered with dementia for several years, but has remained in good physical health, and always kept a positive attitude, even when she could no longer really communicate.  So we made arrangements to go to Mike's brother's place, closer to Bobcaygeon where Mom lives, ahead of a potentially massive storm, 'just in case'.  We packed up the car the day after we received the news (Dec. 22)--clothes, food, skis, and presents--and just as we made to leave, Mike's sister called to let us know that Mom had passed away.  This made the drive up north (we still wanted to beat the storm) a somewhat subdued affair, but it also meant we got to spend more time with the family, albeit under less-than-ideal circumstances.

Jump ahead to mid-January.  Another call from Mike's sister, another tragic loss in the family, this time her son, our nephew, and another extended stay with Mike's brother so that we were all closer to offer what support we could in the following several days of making arrangements and finding answers.  That's another story that I won't share here, except to say that it was not an easy time.

Yet our planned trip loomed closer, and Mike had less time than hoped to get ready.  Thankfully, he works with some very special people who helped keep his company on track, although he did have a few calls with various entities during both these events that he had to deal with--luckily, done remotely.  But now, he's starting to scramble, and things falling off the rails (or going sideways, as his sister says) doesn't help with stress or piece of mind.  Still, we had a few days to gather our wits and calm our nerves.  So of course, that's when the sump pump decided to malfunction overnight and flood our basement.  Only enough water to creep under the engineered hardwood floor, and only one room, but enough of a problem to involve the insurance company and emergency clean up.  Three days before we're supposed to leave.

Gah!

We managed to make it to the airport with time to spare, but not with a relaxed mien.  I can sleep on an airplane; Mike, not quite as much.  Nothing like starting a vacation high on stress, on an overnight 7+ hour flight, and landing before 7 in the morning, knowing we can't check in until 3.  Nevertheless, we managed to pack quite a lot into that first day.

So, on to happier details of Portugal.

Day 1:
​Arrive at Lisbon, take the metro to the train station, board an early train out to Sintra (about 40 minutes north of Lisbon) in the dark, trusting we're reading our Portuguese correctly.  Arrive in a lovely little touristy town and find our accommodations--we couldn't check in to yet, but we could stow our luggage, so we at least didn't have to lug our backpacks around all day.

​We had some famous pastries (pastel de nata) and tea/coffee to fortify us, then set out on a hike up to the Moorish castle.  You can take a bus or a tuk tuk up to the castle, but we chose to walk.  It's only about an hour (and many hills), but it also involved a detour that we more or less managed to follow.  After a bit of backtracking, we made it up to the castle.  I may have mentioned somewhere before: I like ruins.  I like crawling around in ruins.  We found ourselves an awesome ruin.  And despite aching legs from much unaccustomed climbing to reach the castle, I climbed pretty much every set of stairs I could find in these ruins.  (I also climbed a rock on the way to the ruins and scrapped my hand, but it was only a little blood)  The temperature sat in the mid-teens, the sun shone, we had a perfect (if slightly sleepy) start to our trip.  And we followed that with a long hike back to town, some food, and then some sleep.

Day 2:
​Walked to Pena Palace via a slightly shorter route than the previous day.  Saw the inside of Pena, then took in the views from the terrace above.  The Palace began life as a monastery, suffered storm and earthquake damage a few centuries later, was abandoned for a time, then acquired in the 18th century by King consort Ferdinand II (who really liked creating romantic niches all over the place) and transformed into a summer residence for the royal family, rebuilt in a Romantic style that incorporated Medieval and Islamic elements.  Eventually, the royals got booted in a revolution, and the State classified it as a national monument, turning it into a museum for tourists like us to traipse through.  UNESCO claimed it as a World Heritage Site in 1995.  Mostly, it's known as the colourful palace on the hill.  It also has an amazing spread of gardens, which were neat to wander through, though lacked the full colour and splendor the summer months would bring.  Then we surrendered and took a bus back down the hill.  On narrow, winding roads as frightening speeds.  Branches may have tickled the roof, but I'm pretty sure the walls didn't quite scrape the paint on the sides of the bus; barely.
​

After a bite of food, we next hiked off to another World Heritage Site called Quinta da Regaleira, thankfully only a few minutes up the road from our accommodations.  Regaleira is a merchant family name, and they sold the land to an eccentric guy named Carvahlo Monteiro in 1892, who then built a crazy assortment of buildings and paths that may or may not have made sense to anyone besides him.  This place has a small palace, a chapel, a huge amount of park space, grottos, lakelets, fountains, tunnels, and an initiation well (not for water, but for ceremonial purposes).  Mike nick-named this the Pit of Despair when we couldn't remember its real name.
​
We almost missed the palace part, as we spent a lot of time roaming the grounds, and we probably still missed stuff.  A weird but stunning location, and lots of fun to explore.

Day 3:
Well, we'd already seen all we wanted of Sintra.  By this time, Mike was really feeling tired, both from walking 20 000+ steps in each of the last two days, and from general exhaustion catching up to him.  So he took a bit of a break while Jason and I wandered through some gardens that would no doubt look spectacular in the summer.  We found some cork trees (I didn't even know cork came from the bark of such large trees), and stumbled across part of the path we had taken the first day to reach the Moorish Castle, but the sun had also taken a break on this day, and we didn't see anything I felt like taking pictures of.  Still, some nice walking, and Mike joined us later for more general walking, but it turns out that 2 days is plenty to take in the sites of Sintra, at least for us.  So back to our rooms to plan for the next day, when we would head out to our second trio of accommodations on the Algarve coast.  With a looming train strike in the offing.  What could go wrong?

Day 4:
Train back to Lisbon ran as scheduled, and we found ourselves at the train hub on the first day of a train strike.  "Train's still coming," the ticket lady informed us, but she couldn't sell us tickets, as her computer had been locked out, making sales impossible.  Website informed us 'no train.'  We chose to listen to the ticket lady instead, and headed up to the appropriate platform, fingers crossed.  We encountered another passenger in a similar fix.  He needed to get to the coast for work, and did so on a frequent basis, so he figured we had a good chance of buying tickets from the porter.  Assuming the train arrived.  No announcements said it would, and no digital signs, which tracked other local trains, mentioned the high-speed one we wanted.  But before we had to start exploring bus options, the train did, indeed arrive.  We found the porter, and our new friend, who spoke Portuguese like a pro (his English was also excellent, though neither is his first language), conferred with the porter, who then let us on, trusting we'd pay the correct fair once we were underway and he came by to check for tickets.  Presumably some people got their tickets the night before, or at least some time well in advance (our new friend couldn't get any when he tried), but the train was far from packed.  Lucky us, as usually it's assigned seating, and we just sat wherever.  Anyway, we paid the man and weren't kicked off a train going in excess of 200 kph.  Yay!

We arrived in Albufeira and got our rental car.  I highly recommend ready2drive if you want to rent a car in the Algarve.  Bruno is our hero (more about him when we return the vehicle).  He met us at the station with our car, sat down with us at a cafe to do the paperwork, and gave us some helpful tips.  Then we set off toward Lagos and the Ponta da Piedade as a nearby destination before our resort was ready to receive us.  Lovely views under a still-sunny sky, though clouds had started to roll in.

We got to our resort with a very tired, and by now slightly sniffly Mike.  Enjoyed the sunset, then had a simple meal in our kitchen and headed off to bed.
​
Day 5:
​Mike and I took a walk down to the beach in the morning, and that's about all he was up for.  So he went back to bed, and Jason and I took a longer walk along the coast.

A 6 km trail (7 Hanging Valleys Trail) starts a few kilometres from our resort.  We walked along the coast to the trail head about 3 km away, partly in the rain.  Then we headed back to town on the roads, with the intention of doing the 7 Hanging Valleys Trail the following day, hopefully when Mike felt better.

​Mike did not, in fact feel better when we returned, so we found a pharmacy and got him some cold and flu medication, stopped for a spot of lunch, then returned to our invalid.  In the evening, Jason headed out for a walk to see the sunset of Carvoeiro from the boardwalk near the beach, and I headed back to the pharmacy to see if they had any Covid test kits, just in case.  And low and behold, our dear Mike, who started the trip emotionally drained, physically exhausted, and mixing with many people on various public transits without a mask, had indeed contracted the nasty virus.  Well, crap.  Not the way he wanted to spend any part of the trip.

I slept the following nights on the couch, and wore my mask (which I had worn on public transit, and somehow managed to avoid any subsequent contagions) while taking care of Mike.

.​Day 6:
Jason went to hike the 7 Hanging Valleys Trail, while I got some food and liquids into Mike.  We visited a doctor in case Mike needed a note for insurance if we had to make alternate travel arrangements due to Covid.  Strangely, when the doctor administered the test, he got inconclusive results.  Twice.  Still, he figured we hadn't lied about a positive test, so issued a note just in case, though he told us he saw no reason that Mike couldn't travel.  Ww walked back to the resort, and that about used up Mike's energy for the day.  He went back to bed and I read on the balcony as the sun made a reappearance.  Wandered around town later with Jason, ate some food, checked in with the patient.  Not as exciting a day as originally planned, but the couch was surprisingly comfortable.

Day 7:
Happily, Mike felt well enough that we could all check out of the resort and drive back to Albufeira in anticipation of catching the train back to Lisbon.  Website said 'yup, all is well.'  Ticket man at the train station informed us that the trains are not, in fact, running at all that day.  Well, crap.  Some hasty phone searches led us to a bus schedule, with a bus scheduled to leave about 20 minutes later.  From another location.  And here we sat with a rented car to be returned.  So we called up Bruno, our hero of the rental car, and asked if we could meet him at the bus station instead of the train station.  He agreed, then called us back to ask which bus we were taking, as there were two different places to catch buses.  He then gave us directions to a tourist info spot where he would wait for us and where we could leave the car, while he then drove us to the bus terminal, which had no easy parking.  Truly above and beyond, and far more than any other car rental company we've ever dealt with.  Five stars for Bruno, who even managed to be chipper and jovial the whole time.

Got to the bus stop, ordered tickets online, got on a bus (Mike suitably masked through this whole endeavour), and made it to Lisbon only about 1/2 hour later than the train would have taken.  We found a metro to the station nearest our 3rd and final accommodation, then walked the rest of the way, arriving sometime around 6:30.  Needless to say, that pretty much used up all of Mike's energy for the day.  He went to bed, while Jason and I went to find some supper.  Then I came home, and Jason went back out to check out Lisbon's night life.

Day 8:
We started the day at the famous Pastéis de Belém to try out some more custard tarts, and we got there early enough that we didn't face a huge line, although we did end up munching our pastries with tea and coffee and on the patio.  I sat nearest the heater, as it wasn't much past 10 degrees yet.  Then we headed out to see Jeronimos Monastery.

​Being Sunday, the cathedral part had mass, so we didn't see the interior of that, and being a huge tourist attraction, we didn't stand in line to see the inside of the monastery itself either.  But just seeing the outside is worth the trip.

Across from Jeronimos, you get to the waterfront of the Tagus River, which leads to the ocean.  Here, you'll find the Padrao dos Descobrimentos, a statue devoted to the adventurers and explorers of the 15th and 16th centuries.  It's pretty massive, and no doubt looks even more impressive from the water, but you can see here the detail of each person, carved in intricate detail, including the scroll one of them holds.

Just a little further down the shore, you come to Belem Tower, or the Tower of St. Vincent.  We didn't go in, but it's a busy place, including musicians and other buskers to entertain (soap bubbles floating around adds a nice whimsy to the place).  Past that, you find a war museum, a memorial to those fallen overseas, and a tomb to the unnamed soldier.  Looking back past the Padrao dos Descobrimentos, you'll see an iconic bridge, and lots of boats out, despite wind, overcast, and chilly temperatures.

We had some lunch, then Mike went back 'home' for a rest, while Jason and I went exploring Lisbon.  We saw Rossio Square with its statues and tile work made to imitate the ocean (an effective optical illusion that neither of us could look at long without feeling nauseated.  Honestly, we had to walk looking up just so we didn't trip on our own feet and vomit).  We then made our way toward the Baixa District (lots of shops and restaurants along a ginormous pedestrian right of way) and to the Rua Augusta Arch.  The walk to and from this area had lots of random statues, arches, and fascinating architecture to see, a sort of hodge podge that defines Lisbon. 

Day 9:
Mike felt well enough to join us for a bigger adventure today, so we went to explore St. George's Castle (Castelo de S. Jorge)--once we figured out which bus (or tram) we wanted, and where to catch it.  A bit far to walk, though Jason was game.  Mike and I, not so much.  So we used transit (still masked, of course).  We arrived before opening, so had an opportunity to explore the outer area first.  Narrow roads, but a functional little township, complete with a school and laundry hung out to dry.  A fascinating mix of older and modern, rural vs urban, and all within Lisbon.

The castle itself has archeological finds from the 8th century BC with fortifications from the 1st century BC.  Through a long and varied history, it passed through several hands (Celts, Greeks, Carthage, Romans, Visigoths, Moors, Portuguese) and underwent many renovations.  It's hard to tell just how old each section is, and even now, it's undergoing both restoration and archeological digs.  It's mostly walls and stairs, some benches, cannons, dry water features, and incredible vistas.  And peacocks.  Don't ask me why.  Maybe they're sacred guardians of the place, or just a tourist attraction.  They also climb trees.

After this, we took Mike to see Rossio Square; he didn't have any trouble with the waves, but then, he simply examined them, then explained why they were so effective (it has to do with the differing thickness of each wave).  We also went back to the Rua Augusta Arch and wandered Lisbon some more, seeing various squares and gardens and cobbled streets.  Then we headed back 'home' for a bit of a rest before supper.  Jason went ahead of us to the LX Factory, where you can find a mix of artisans and restaurants.  Mike and I grabbed an Uber and met him there for supper (I so do not want to ever drive in Lisbon, but the Uber drivers seem to know what they're doing).

Day 10:
Called an Uber and made our way to the airport for a 10:40 am flight back to Toronto.  The flight was only a little late, yet managed to arrive on time after 8 1/2 hours in the air.  We all made it back home, went to bed early, and continue with life.  Mike only tested mildly positive the next morning.  So much for inconclusive tests!

​Did we like Portugal?  For the most part, yes.  Did it have its challenges?  Definitely.  Would we go back?  We'd like to see more of the Algarve, so probably.  Will Mike ever want to travel again, given that something often goes wrong?  I hope so.  After all, I didn't even have to leave him at a hospital and fly home alone this time!  I call that a win.

This past weekend (Nov. 19, 2022), I participated in my first ever book fair.  This also happened to be the first (possibly annual) Holiday Book Fair put on in the Waterloo Region and held at theMUSEUM in Kitchener.  So, a lot of new things for various parties.

With 35 vendors from across Southwestern Ontario (local talent being a definite highlight for many attendees) bringing their books, bookmarks, candles, crafts, jewelry, artwork, games, and educational materials to the affair, people were in for a treat to tempt the imagination.  Children's books, YA, and adult fiction all made an appearance, from fantasy and adventure to romance and horror, and even some poetry.  You could find independent authors and small publishing houses side-by-side, myself among them (though, of course, I also took a stroll through the venue prior to opening to express my support and enjoy the fantastic array of talent available).

It took place on the same day as the Santa Claus Parade, presumably with the intention that this might help attract greater crowds, and entrance to most of the museum exhibits was free.  I don't know how much attention such affairs usually generate, but I'd have to call the attendance 'moderate' (and definitely a family-friendly affair).  A friend of mine, with her table next to me, intimated that the crowd did not meet some of her experiences at other such events.  But people did show up, many expressing enthusiasm for the written word, and I sold some books.  So I'd call it a success, even if only a minor one.  After all, more than 20 copies of my books now rest in hands that they didn't before.  A good step in finding greater exposure for my work.

And now that I've participated in one, the next will hold less anxiety for me.  I am not, by nature, a very sociable person, and throngs of strangers terrify me (nor do I know how to promote myself well, as that involves actually speaking with others).  So honestly, I rather appreciated not being thrust among throngs of people jostling for space.  A good first-time experience for me.  I just hope my fellow vendors enjoyed some success also.

As the summer of 2022 draws to its inevitable conclusion, many of us look back to the highlights of the warm weather of the Northern Hemisphere as we move closer to the cooling temperatures of encroaching autumn.  Rarely a fan of the elementary school teacher's favourite challenge upon returning to class: "what did I do on my summer vacation," when I didn't always do much that I thought others would find terribly exciting (or wanted to share for fear of sounding inane), nevertheless, I'm going to share a couple of my recent experiences of this past season (apart from the many weekends at the cottage dismantling and then rebuilding a large section of the deck).

First, a very enjoyable week at the beginning of August totally disconnected and away from the world in the backcountry of Algonquin Park with Mike and a lovely couple we've been friends with for several years.  We started this tradition of canoe camping with Tracy and Kevin last year when planning our previous annual vacation of a bike trip somewhere went on hiatus due to Covid restrictions.  Like last year, we started our journey at Voyager Quest (an overnight cabin with supper and breakfast included) at Algonquin Access Point 1 (Kawawaymog, or Round, Lake), and we spent 5 nights in the wilderness interior at 4 different campsites.  We had planned on only 3 sites (1st night at North Tea Lake near Mangotasi River, next 3 nights in Biggar Lake, and final night back in North Tea closer to the river back to Kawawaymog).  However, from our 2nd somewhat shaded campsite, we kept gazing across the lake at a sunny spit of land that we eventually explored, only to discover it was an unoccupied campsite.  So we hastily packed up our previous site and transferred ourselves for the final night on Biggar, wondering why we hadn't just stopped at this sunny site in the first place.

Unlike last year, we had no rain this time around, and while the nights had a bit of a chill (lesson learned: bring warmer sleeping bags even if the preceding weeks had temps in the 30s...), the weather was fantastic.  Despite an incident where we narrowly avoided burning down the forest and searing off Mike's hand, and a time when we had to call upon 'Nurse Tracy' to staunch some blood and bandage up a gash received while Mike and Kevin went foraging for wood when we found ourselves on an island well cleared of deadfall, we had a tremendous time away from the cares of the world.  I even jotted down a poem about one beautiful sunrise, and another about portaging and how sometimes it's better if you can't see too far ahead.

After returning home from this relaxing break, Mike and I turned our minds to a place that's been on our list for a while now, and we started in earnest to plan a trip to Iceland.  We had already picked the dates, but now had to confirm where to stay and what to see.  This trip would see our 26th Wedding Anniversary (the 25th a more subdued affair during a pandemic that involved some food poisoning, so we hoped this one would work out better), and would last 12 days.

The first three days were rainy and windy and included a flat tire far from civilization (on the morning of our Anniversary no less, so it looked a little dicey for a bit), but the fourth day dawned bright and warm and we could finally see and enjoy the true splendour of a magnificent country.  While we had stopped to see some waterfalls and do some hiking in the first three days (if you're into hiking, I highly recommend getting out to Landmannalaugar and exploring some of their many trails despite the bumpy F-road to get there and the wind trying to push you off a mountain), many of these were the well-known 'tourist traps'.  If you've seen pictures of Iceland, you'd likely recognise what we glanced at at the beginning of our journey around ring road, complete with bus loads of wandering and oblivious tourists, all wondering what we're doing out in such miserable weather, but reluctant to miss what everyone 'must see'.  Although I almost admire the bride making the most of things in spite of the pouring rain and chilly wind on her bare arms as she tried to get that memorable photo in front of a waterfall.

While the known locations do have their beauty, we found that tracking down some of the 'hidden gems' is a very worthwhile effort.  A useful tool to do so is alltrails.  Mike would navigate while I drove, and he'd look for promising suggestions along the way from previous travelers/hikers who also liked to find where the bus tours didn't go.  In such a way, we discovered places such as Holmanes, the Hallormsstadur forest trails, Rjukandafoss, Dalvik, Reykjafoss, Selvallafoss, and the challenge of Akrafjall.

​If Iceland is on your list of must-see places, it's well worth your time.  I know some people who would spend most of that time in Reykjavik or viewing the wonders of the Golden Circle (if you only have a few days, this isn't a bad idea).  However, if you enjoy hiking and don't mind a lot of driving, I recommend taking more time and exploring both the east and west fjords, as well as parts of the north (we enjoyed the antics of a Minke whale on our whale watching tour from Husavik on a very calm and clear day--who knew the waters of the Arctic could rest in such a still state!--and the basalt columns and beach of Londgrangar was very peaceful).  And definitely look for some of the paths less travelled!

In case you missed it, I'm putting out a poetry collection on April 11, 2022.  I put this together in response to a poetry contest that I entered late last year.  As they required unpublished pieces, and would announce a winner by early spring, I decided mid-April would mark a good date for publication of most of the poems I entered.  Having just received notification of the contest winner and the name of the entry (*spoiler: not me :p), I will still wait for that release date, as it's only a couple of weeks away.

The contest had a requirement of a minimum of 48 pages.  Over the last three decades, I had scribbled down enough poems to fulfil that quota, so I put them together into a collection with four general themes: Nature & Time; Good & Evil/Live & Death; For the Young at Heart; and Family.  Looking at that collection, I then had the brainstorm that, if I added a few more, I might have something worth publishing to the wider world.

And thus the birth of Dancing Words.

Most people are unaware of my poetry, which doesn't surprise me in the least, seeing as I've never published such before.  Nor have I actively written much in the way of poems for quite a few years (although 3 did appear in 2003 after a bit of a traumatic year within the family).  Until Dancing Words.  I had wondered if I even had enough poetry in me to flesh out the contest pieces into something closer to 100 pages (the final book being just shy of that number, pictures included).  Turns out, I did, and nearly three dozen new poems popped into being between December and March (a dozen of them under the Nature Haikus, which came surprisingly quick and fairly easy--I leave to you whether that's impressive or not [if you've ever spat out a haiku, you'll probably understand]).

I don't remember writing any poetry (that I'd admit to) until high school.  In an interesting in-class assignment in OAC (that's grade 13, for those old enough to remember when that was a thing), the teacher put on some gentle music for five minutes and had us simply write down wherever popped into our minds: "Don't think about it; don't try to get it perfect; just put your pens to the page and write whatever comes out."  I liked that and the results of my subconscious yammerings so much, that I did various other such experiments with music at home (listening to things like Yanni, and Solitudes worked great for this, at least for me).  You'll find some of them (yes, from that long ago) in the Nature & Time section, as well as Juxtaposed, and Juxtaposed II from Good & Evil.

Other poems from high school days include the anthropomorphisation of inanimate objects (Rock Solid; Warm Embrace; Living Death), and the poems inspired by other literary works.  Some came from that time-frame, but not through any school-related projects (I was that geeky kid who might spend part of a vacation writing something like The End and The Beginning just for fun, or hear a news report and share her thoughts on paper, such as Choices of Life, and To Live).  In fact, with the exception of The Surfer, everything in the For the Young at Heart section originated from the mind of a kid in her teens and early twenties, and given that I'm gazing into the twilight years of my forties, that's not terribly recent.

A few of the poems started life as a micro-story which I adapted into a more poetic style.  For example, I wrote the original Cassie's Dance (four or five years ago) for a flash fiction contest where you wrote something under 500 words based on a provided picture.  The Gathering evolved from a first-year university project from a creative writing course that asked us to write the longest sentence we could starting with the classic phrase: "It was a dark and stormy night...".  And Lost and Found also started as a very short story that I had jotted down just for the heck of it many years ago.

Many of the older poems have a more youthful feel to them (at least to me, especially knowing their origin); some of it simply playful, a couple almost ridiculous (The Red Sleft of Crite definitely falls into this category), but I felt it important to include them nevertheless, both as a sort of evolution, and also hopefully something to bring a smile, even as you might ask yourself: "what the heck was that?".  I figure an honest collection of poetry needs to include both the deep--thought-provoking, mysterious, evocative--and the inane, just like life.
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You'll find elements of my usual fantasy genre writing in some of the this collection, but you'll also discover a different side of my brain in Dancing Waves.  Enjoy!

OK, so I gave the whole short story writing another go.  I have a compellation somewhat in-progress--a dark theme of demons and half-breeds and war between magic users.  I had the initial story (the one intended to unite the mini-series into a harmonized whole) written before, though I've edited and tweaked it somewhat.  I plotted two back-stories to flush it out, give alternate perspectives, and generally expand the tale into more of a collection.  I even started both to a degree.  But I rather lost interest, and they've sat untouched for a while.  Which tells me one of two things: it's not time for these stories; OR these tales are not meant to be.  Time will tell which.

So what else have I done to fill the time, if not for this attempt at short stories?  Well, for a large chunk of time after publishing god-touched back in May of 2021, I really didn't do much involving writing at all.  No motivation, no desire (and trying to force something does not result in anything useful for me), no progress on the creative front.  I didn't find myself bored, however.  I couldn't tell you for the most part what took up my time and attention, but I managed to fill my days anyway.

We had our front garden redone by the wonderful Bonnie of Greenstone Landscape Solutions.  Flagstone pathway and patio, raised bed with lovely mulch and the plants I had them save, new garden lining one side of the driveway instead of weeds.  Quite a nice job that I don't seem to have any pictures of, as I enjoyed the space rather than recorded it.

We spent some time at the family cottage, usually just Mike & myself, though we did get a chance to hang out with Mike's brother's family for a week in August.  Followed by a great week canoe camping in Algonquin with another couple.  It might have rained a least once most of the days, but we had a fantastic time.  Mike is the master of the tarp.  And you can't get much more outdoorsy and physically distanced than in your own canoe and in your own tent in a gorgeous Provincial Park.

We very occasionally met with friends at outside venues (mostly someone's back yard, and mostly no more than us and another couple), and once or twice even went out to supper on a patio in the summer when restrictions due to COVID lifted.  From mid-October until mid-December, Kitchener Band resumed in-person practicing (interesting playing in a band with 28-40 people each week spread throughout a gymnasium--does funky things with cohesion, timing, concentration, and time-delays).  We pulled out some Christmas music and some other tunes for summer concerts, and after an 18-month hiatus, learned that amateur musicians can still make decent music after a couple of weeks of remembering how to play together (and honing those lax embrasures).  We had high hopes for some kind of Christmas concert, but as the season approached, most venues simply didn't want to risk a gathering of so many people.  Understandable.  So we worked out a plan to have a sort of open rehearsal, where limited friends and family could come hear us play a pseudo-concert in a large space where we could all physically distance.  Unfortunately, on the Friday before our Monday 'concert' (the last Monday before Christmas), the omicron variant of COVID had appeared in full-force, with its highly contagious nature.  Taking no chances, especially so close to Christmas, we had to cancel this pseudo-concert as well.  So much for playing toward a set goal.  There's still some hope for summer, outdoor concerts, if we can contain this variant's spread enough to make gathering in such numbers feasible again.

At some point in the fall, I came across a contest for poetry writing.  One such contest wanted a collection of no less than 48 pages, and no more than 96 pages.  I took a look at some of my previous poetry, and decided I could do that.  I put together a decent-sized collection and sent it off (results forthcoming in late-winter/early-spring).  Then I sat down and added to it.  A few times.  As recently as this sunny and snowy January morning.

All things being equal, I plan to publish an anthology of poetry (tentatively titled Dancing Words) this spring.  It has four general themed sections: Nature & Time; Good & Evil/Life & Death; For the Young at Heart; and Family.  It currently sits at about 77 pages (about 60 of them containing words, while I've added pictures [many taken and adapted from the family cottage at Big Cedar Lake] to separate the sections).  Most of those pages contain more than one poem (everything from open verse to rhyming stanzas, structured and unstructured pieces, even a couple of sonnets, some haikus, and at least one limerick).  That's about 80 poems (note: haikus being short, and my having 16-20 of them included, this may not seem as special to you as it does to me).  Thus, instead of my intended short-story adventure, I will concentrate on polishing poetry.  And writing a new novel.  Which I started last week.  I have less than 1000 words typed into the computer, and little idea of where the story's going, but I look forward to the characters unfolding their tale as I go.

And I'm happy to report that I have had no health issues/recurring episodes of gut problems since the beginning of September.  Fingers crossed that remains the case!

Sometimes, technology sucks.  I had written a pretty good blog, then went to add a picture.  Then somehow lost everything I had just written.  Grr.  So I'll try this again.

For the past year and a half, I've dealt with some interesting health issues (the feeling of dehydration and some kind of stomach issues being the primary symptoms, which led to an alarming lack of energy) which left my GP 'baffled'.  She eventually sent me to a 'specialist', who ordered blood work (just like my GP did).  All of this done via phone (well, not the blood work, but the consultations), seeing as we're in the midst of a pandemic and can't actually see people like medical doctors (even in the ER, I saw a Nurse Practitioner rather than a doctor--she said basically the same as my GP and the specialist, though).  Everyone came back with a similar statement: 'there's nothing wrong with you; you're fine, according to the blood work.'  Of course, the specialist took 6 months to tell me that, giving the unhelpful suggestion that I should drink less water, and that should fix me right up.

My body knew better, even if it didn't offer any solutions.  Obviously, I had something wrong going on.  Western medicine simply couldn't figure out what.

​Fed up with long waits, unhelpful bafflement, and the insistence that 'blood work shows there's nothing wrong', I went to a naturopath, with whom a friend had great success (though with far different problems).  After filling out forms outlining a comprehensive history of symptoms, habits, medical history, and any traumatic events in my past (none of which other docs asked for), I met with the naturopath in person (suitably distanced and masked), and she ordered a stool sample (which you'd think appropriate, given stomach troubles).  Results of that in hand (nasty bacteria in the gut will cause havoc, among other things), combined with an understanding of my medical history, she devised a treatment plan which I have now followed for just over a month.  Already, I've seen results, including, eventually, renewed energy.

​I mention all the above because it affected my ability--even my desire--to do most anything, including writing.  But I did manage to finish the first draft of my most recent novel, god-touched, in February.

This time around, I thought I'd try something different in the writing process, and hired an actual editor.  I sent off my manuscript in March to Noah Chinn of Mossfoot Editing.  (A friend-of-a-friend, I actually met Noah at a wedding 25 years ago, though I'm sure neither of us remembers the other.)  After about a month of slogging through my book (and various emails back and forth with suggestions and general writing tips), Noah presented me with possible revisions and a more polished version of my manuscript.  For those few who saw the first draft, you'll no doubt notice some of these improvements.  I then spent the next month and a half reworking god-touched into something better. 

Then I started to put it together for publication, which included formatting and finding some interesting cover designs.  In the past, I've used Adobe Spark to design cover art for my books.  I distributed some of these designs to various folks (including Noah), looking for suggestions and thoughts.

In this process, a cousin of mine (distantly removed) reached out.  Having done graphic design in a previous incarnation, Janet Christie (fantastic artist; look her up) wondered whether she might tackle making something better for me.  Taking some of the elements from what I had fumbled together and mixing them with plot details I provided, Janet came up with something far superior to anything I could do.  The result: the gorgeous cover for god-touched.

​Edited (and formatted) manuscript with it's fantastic cover in hand, I was ready for the final stage: publication.  I published the paperback and hardcover editions (hardcover being a new format offered in beta form from amazon) on May 20, 2021, and the e-Print versions on May 24, 2021.  This makes my sixth fantasy novel to find completion and publication.

So what's next?  I thought I might try putting together a short story; possibly even a collection of short stories.  That might sound easier than a whole novel.  I assure you, for me, it's not.  I've had trouble with shorter stuff in the past, always wanting to add just a little bit more, or thinking a story needed just a little something extra (like full-length novelization), so this will present a good challenge for me.  A challenge I hope I now have the energy to tackle, thanks to resolving some of my health issues.  At any rate, working with short stories should provide an interesting change.  Here's hoping it results in something fun :)

For the past couple of years, I've kept track of what I've read on Goodreads.com through their Reading Challenge.  Last year, I challenged myself to read 150 books throughout the year, and managed around 120 or so.  So this year, I lowered my expectation to 100 books for the year.  That number, of course, I decided upon at the beginning of January, before COVID19 came to prominence, and we all found ourselves with potentially more time on our hands than usual with stay-at-home suggestions and quarantines.  I didn't change the estimated total of books I intend to read though, so I'll likely feel ahead of the game around October or November when I reach my goal.  Right now, I'm at 55 books read in my personal challenge, so I'm well on my way.

One series I read throughout April and May (or rather, I re-read, as I really enjoy them when I first read them a few years ago) has 16 titles at the moment, with more on the way when the author overcomes some personal challenges.  If you're looking for a light, amusing, and easy-read Sci-Fi series that takes you away from the horrors of the world, I highly recommend Gini Koch's Katherine "Kitty" Katt series (skipping over the sex scenes if that's not your thing does not detract from the stories).

I want to especially point out book 12 (Alien in Chief), which I finished at the beginning of May.  In the past, reading about a deadly global virus (in this case, a manufactured, air-borne pathogen released by a megalomaniac intending to wipe out all opposition) provides a bit of fun that you can sit back and enjoy.  However, reading this during the height of the COVID19 crisis, when you don't know who's infected, if anyone made it to quarantine without already having it, how long it might last, whether we'll find a vaccine or cure, and watching as governments and businesses struggle to cope with such wide-spread mayhem, gives the book a whole different feel.  I kept finding myself reading something, then sitting back and saying "huh, yup, that's what would happen."  Strange, to have a true concept of a situation as you live through something similar when, a year ago (six months ago even), you just didn't have a clue.  It changes your perspective.

And now, as we're dealing with protests and race-riots and police resorting to inhumane measures to subjugate POC and minorities (which, in 2020, seems like we're going backwards--THIS SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED, NOR CONTINUE TO HAPPEN, AND HAVING TO DEFEND YOURSELF OR OTHERS BASED SOLELY ON THE COLOUR OF YOUR/THEIR SKIN IS UNACCEPTABLE), I found myself yet again reading a series very much on point.  James S.A. Corey (who is actually a collaboration of two fantastic writers) wrote a Sci-Fi series called The Expanse which, while futuristic, very much deals with racism, prejudice, oppression, and the differences that humanity has falsely placed upon each other.  And what happens when one group stands up and says enough.

Book 5 (Nemesis Games) and book 6 (Babylon's Ashes) have really hit home for me.  I'm currently in the middle of Babylon's Ashes, and the parallels to today (mostly notably the aftermath of the George Floyd murder) are frankly terrifying.  In The Expanse universe, we have the oppression of Earth and Mars (mostly the corporations and governments) against the people of the Belt (called Belters), but we could very easily substitute White people for Earth and Mars, and POC for Belters.  We see the effects of generations of unconscious/ingrained ignorance (derogatory names/terms given without thought, false assumptions, stereotyping), and the smoldering resentments as Belters especially accept the unintended (and intended) abuse and slights of those in power or in the majority because it's expected that they don't rock the boat.  We also see some Earthers and Martians trying to understand and rectify the deep-seated animosity between groups, hoping to put a human face on all involved, so that others see real people and not just an abstract based on birth.  We see hatred escalating every situation, and people trying to find peaceful solutions to deep-seated and long running problems.  It's frightening, and poignant, to read such extremes still occurring hundreds of years from now, while seeing the reality play out in the streets today.  I think, if I had read this series at any other time, I would still very much enjoy the writing and the message, but I wouldn't feel it so deeply; and find it so terrifying.  The extremes no longer seem so extreme, and the reasoning (much based on false assumptions and intentional misinformation) for fanaticism on both sides doesn't seem so far-fetched.  I see the horrors that the radical Belters have unleashed, and I cannot sit back and say unequivocally, "they had no cause."  I don't know how much sympathy would have surfaced prior to the actual unrest I see today, and that changes how I perceive this series.

I really appreciate how the author(s) explore the situation from every perspective--Earth, Mars, Belter, male, female--most notably so far in Book 6 where we see so many points of view.  If you want a great read that also challenges you to review your place in a world of privilege (whether you're part of the privileged white caste or the oppressed POC or other minority in the Western world [this also includes the role of women]--most especially, but sadly not exclusively, in the US), I definitely recommend The Expanse series.

So, a few things have happened over the last several months, many of which we can look back on and think: "Well, that was good timing." 

Having the house all nicely renovated (the last touches finally completed near the end of January when Mike resized the pantry so that it actually made sense to us) definitely fits in that category, as our space now has a wonderful open feel very much appreciated in the recent months where we don't get out much.  It's nice to not have to navigate a maze to find somewhere with natural light, and having lots of space to spread out (and eat in) just adds to the happy.
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Mike travelled to Ecuador for 10 days in the beginning of February with a friend he's known since kindergarten, and then he and I, along with another couple, took a trip to Costa Rica in mid-February for 15 days, returning home around the 26th.  You know, when we could still travel without worries that the airports might shut down and strand us somewhere.  Although, if you have to find yourself stranded somewhere, you could do worse than Costa Rica.  So we definitely lucked out in our February travels, because anything later ... well, we'd have missed it.

​We spent a few days at Playa Grande beach, where temperatures soared while Ontario saw a bit of snow.  Then we travelled inland to Monteverde for a few days where we had lots of wind and a fair amount of rain--Ontario saw some not too bad temps then, but still, winter in Ontario, so we got the better deal.  We spent our last week in Nuevo Arenal, near both volcano and lake, and had the most fantastic scenery and weather.  Right before flying home into a predicted blizzard.  Luckily, we didn't have to drive ourselves home from the airport on the slick roads, as we'd already arranged for alternate transportation.  At that point, the major question asked at the airport was: Have you visited China in the last 14 days.  So, managed to dodge the bullet there.

Had two weeks of band rehearsals where we worked on Kiwanis Festival pieces as well as our upcoming summer repertoire.  Our section leader had also just returned from a long vacation, and we were all revved up for putting on some wonderful performances in the spring/summer concert and festival season.  Which then promptly fell apart as gatherings of multiple people restrictions went into place.  So now we all just practice our music at home instead of together.  (Wait, we don't?  But of course we're all playing our faces off, right; what else do we have to do?)

Speaking of restrictions on large gatherings, the saddest one we've faced is the postponement of my cousin's wedding.  Originally set for the beginning of April, she has had to reschedule until December.  There's timing for you; so close and yet so far.  But she and her fiancee remain chipper and well, and you can't ask for better than that.  They're together and happy, and that's awesome.  Here's hoping things have found their new normal by December!

Of course, the thing that has changed so much about how we go about life has a name: the virus COVID19, a global pandemic that has brought out an interesting dichotomy of people.  We see folks taking social distancing and self-isolation seriously, doing their best to limit the spread and save lives (or at least hospital space); we see people calling it a hoax, insisting that precautions are overdone and preposterous, infringing on our rights.  And we have everyone in between.  We tend to fall into that first category.  Sure, our chances of catching and/or spreading the virus are small given our limited interaction with others, but they're there.  No way do we want to find ourselves responsible for bringing harm to others, or to ourselves.

This has brought about the biggest change in our day-to-day life; the methods of social distancing.  Both naturally introverts, neither Mike nor I have found huge hardships in terms of staying away from others (video calls are awesome, and can bring together a bunch of people who might not otherwise get the opportunity to sit down and chat at the same time).  We've gone to bi-weekly grocery shopping instead of once a week, done with face coverings and following the rules set out by the grocery store (like keeping our distance and following directional arrows on the floor--doesn't seem like a hard, or onerous, concept, yet I still see people going against the flow).

​Any other shopping, should we require anything, we do online where we don't have to deal with people and we don't have to wait in lines.  This, of course, is a first-world luxury, as a friend of ours living in Mexico where deliveries are less easily accomplished has demonstrated.  (Makes me wonder why so many first-world countries keep seeing such a high proportion of new cases when a bit of patience and common sense could benefit our fellows, but let's not get into that controversial topic)  We have such good fortune living where we do, and with our current circumstances (neither of us having work outside the house), and we find ourselves grateful every day.  Especially knowing others do not share that same safety.  If our keeping distant from anyone will ease another's risk of succumbing to this virus, we'll gladly keep doing so.
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So you'd think, having all this time and distance and isolation (though we get out for walks and runs and general fresh air pretty much daily), I'd have a lot of time for writing.  I do, and yet, I haven't written much lately.  Back in November I started a new story.  Every November, many in the writing community participate in an endeavour called NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) where you attempt to write a 50 000 word (or longer) manuscript.  You can participate in daily challenges, pep-talks, community support, etc. as you aim for a full story.  I have never actually participated, but this last November, I did challenge myself to see how far I could get, with the intention of eventually having my next novel written ... whenever.  So I sat down and got writing (a little late, as I didn't actually start until Nov. 4).  My first month, I did manage 21 000+ words on a brand new tale.  Still feel pretty good about this accomplishment.  In the ensuing months (as I've kept track of my daily word count, just for fun), I've managed a total of about 57 000 words, so about half of my typical novel length, and I'm about half-way through the story.  Of course, I didn't write much in February, spending most of that time on vacation.  March saw a bit of a resurgence in the story, but April fell really short.  Like less than 2000 words all month short.  No particular reason.  I certainly didn't have any social engagements getting in the way (every concert, gathering, or play we had planned to attend of course being cancelled by this time).  I simply didn't get around to, or feel like, writing.  So far in May, I've not done much better, but I have higher hopes for the days ahead.  We'll see what the future holds.  Hopefully something good.  I certainly have enough time on my hands!