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!

The renovations continue here with an expected end date some time in August.  In the meantime, we get to see the fascinating transformation of our house, as well as meet some very interesting trades people.  Decisions/choices are very nearly finished, with only a bathroom mirror and some closet hardware still in the offing (I think, though I may have missed something yet).

We've watched as our 1950s home with its maze of hallways has transformed into a very open concept kitchen/dining/living space with a lot of cupboards (for us), and until recently, we watched through plastic.  Not anymore.  Now the rooms have basically joined and I can travel from the back of the house (the 2011 addition) to the front without going through the basement or around the outside of the building--really handy to get to the main bathroom!  And I can watch the ongoing face lift without the 'fish tank' filter of plastic.  Very cool.

So how have we managed to keep sane amid all the noise and dust?  Partly, it's just fun to see this all take place.  And partly, we've gone away.

We spent a week up at Mike's parents' place, now aka The Family Cottage.  And most recently, we spent a week in PEI on a bike trip with our friends Tracy and Kevin.  When we left, the workers had just started to prime the walls (literally, just started.  When asked what time we'd be up on Wednesday morning, we informed the painter we had an early flight and had the alarm set for around 4 in the morning.  To which he replied: "Is it OK if I show up around 4:30 to get started then?"  He likes to finish his work early so as to give the other workers time to get stuff done too without everyone tripping on each other.  The drywaller had taken more time than anticipated, and I guess the painter wanted to hurry things along.  Seeing as we'd be up anyway, and then gone, we had no objections to this early start and left the painter with roller in hand as we headed to the airport).  When we returned, we had a new floor (except for the tiles), paint on the walls, kitchen cupboards, and open access to the whole joint!  As well as a sneaky cat who kept finding his way through the rafters so that he could 'visit' all the people and their work (we've since found his escape route and now he's back in the sequestered basement with his brother).

While work continued here, the four of us had a wonderful time in PEI.  Mike and I flew out while Tracy and Kevin drove with our bicycles, and then we reversed the procedure on the way home, giving each of us a little road trip.  We spent two nights in Summerside and four in Charlottetown.  The first day, we road part of the Confederation Trail--once upon a time the railway that ran across the island, so fairly flat--and then some of the roads up to the coast and a lighthouse or two.  The roads didn't have the Trail's consideration for flatness, so we went up some inclines.  Kevin let me know that "this is the biggest hill" more than once :)  Around 75-80 km round trip.  That might not sound too bad to an experienced rider (or perhaps terrifying to a newbie), but keep in mind that I only got my bike in April, and hadn't ridden much in two or three decades.  My longest ride prior to this went 43 km.  Thankfully, my co-riders were very kind and considerate, keeping to a pace I could match.

Most of the rest of our rides stuck to various parts of the Confederation Trail (plus a multi-use trail on the north coast), and it only rained one day, but not enough to dissuade us from our journey.  We ate a lot of seafood, deep-fried stuff, and rich sauces, including a full lobster supper in New Glasgow, many cups of seafood chowder (to compare which tasted best), and local brews and ciders.  We went to Summerside's Lobster Carnival and an authentic East Coast Ceilidh in York--The Shenanigans, which turned out as more like a talent show for the elderly than the fiddle-fest we had expected--had some tea leaves read in Long River and saw the sights around the centre of the island; got in some good workouts and laughed a lot, and generally had a great time.

And one last thing that kept me busy right before our trip: publishing my latest novel!  Exclusive to Amazon for 90 days, The Forgotten Magic is now available in Kindle and as a paperback.  I will release it to all other vendors in October, around the time I plan for its official book launch--some time after the renovations are complete.  A sort of Wine & Cheese Book Launch/Come See What We've Done To The Place party :)  Can't wait for the Shenanigans!

Things that get in the way of keeping people up to date: lack of time; lack of news; lack of interest.  In this instance, the second does not hold true.

So what has taken up most of my time, and why might that interest anyone?  I can't speak to what holds your interest, but a lot lately has held mine.  Where do I start?
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I finished the first draft of The Forgotten Magic on May 1 (so close to my internal deadline of the end of April that I'll count it as a definite win).  The book, sequel to The Forgotten King, currently resides in the editorial and beta reader phase.  With any luck, I'll have enough reader input by the end of the month (a huge thanks already to Paul and to Mary Catherine for their fantastic insights) that, in combination with my own editing, I'll have a happily finished product very soon.  And good thing too, as book 2 of The Forgotten is available for pre-order now, with a publishing date in mid-July for amazon, and the beginning of October for other digital outlets (a tale involving international contests and exclusive rights for 90 days that I won't bore you with).  So that little project has kept me busy.

With Mike's parents currently residing at The Resort (as we all call their lovely retirement residence in Bobcaygeon), the 3 siblings have decided to keep the house at the lake as a cottage for any of us interested in its use in the upcoming summer months.  Dad and Mom are thrilled at this decision and fully encouraging in whatever projects we wish to take on to make the place more up-to-date.  This has led to some renovations; from tearing out some of the mismatched carpeting and laying new flooring, to painting, to updating electrical (including identifying mystery switches), to full out bathroom renovations.  Our current project has the upstairs bathroom fully gutted and in the process of receiving new drywall, a new vanity and light, a new fan, a lightly used tub to replace the old icky steel beast, and reusing the toilet (only a few years old).  The lightly used tub has come from our bathroom here.

Why, you might ask, would we pull out our perfectly usable tub, toss it in a van (our first experience with Car Sharing), drive it up north of Peterborough, and drag it across the dubious decking and up some stairs at the cottage in the rain after pulling out the old steel tub?  Why wouldn't we just arrange for a new tub, maybe have someone else install it?
Mostly because of our own renovations here at home.
What started as a kitchen renovation here has, as these things often do, grown into a monster project.  Happily, the scale of the renovation has morphed by our choice and not because of some unfortunate 'thing' uncovered in the process (although the gaping hole in my basement concrete is a wee bit bigger than planned due to some questionable connections to the actual drain that theoretically leads to the street).  Removing walls to make flow-through more accessible and open concept from kitchen to great room in the back led to relocating the guest room and widening that section for eating too.  Which eventually led to staring at the existing bathroom and thinking, "Well, that's pretty much the only room up here we haven't touched.  We should do something about that too!"  So out comes the tub and in goes a shower (we have a tub in the ensuite; two seemed one too many), affording us an extra tub to use elsewhere (like the cottage).

Renovations continue as I type, with less banging and smashing at the moment than in previous days.  Our place is very open at the moment, with a large flush-ceiling beam taking the place of a retaining wall, and the beginnings of other walls (the new bathroom dimensions and new closets) in place.  You'd think, with contractors and professionals, we wouldn't have much to do in the process, but that neglects all the choices we have to make (from cabinets to plumbing, colours to lighting, and anything in between you might think of, plus lots we might not have yet).  So we've kept quite busy in the last few months, and likely will until work ends sometime (hopefully) in August.
I'm just glad I got my book finished before the biggest of this chaos, and will, with any luck, have a decent product ready for publication in the next couple of weeks.
The official book launch party will take place around September, when we have a usable house again!

Ontario winters keep changing, one year having lots of snow but tolerable temperatures, another year reaches double digits in the minus zone (Celsius) and stays there, another has lots of ice storms.  This year, we had one of those yo-yo years, where it might dump a pile of snow one week, then creep up into low but positive temperatures the next, then rain, then freeze, then plummet to where your eyeballs burn from the cold ... and repeat.

Which made our 2 weeks in Costa Rica at the end of February and the beginning of March very pleasant indeed.  From -5 (-20 overnight) to 30+ degrees C and sunshine makes for happy people.

We started our trek by getting a rental car from the San Jose airport and driving about an hour and a half out to Jaco Beach, on the Pacific side of the country.  Six days at a surf camp near (but not right in) a beach town where shorts and a tank top (or a bathing suit) kept the worst of the humidity at bay worked great.  Mike had 3 surfing lessons--one on his birthday--and I had 4 sessions of yoga.  We met a fantastic couple of women (one from Germany and one from Ireland) that we hung out with for pretty much the whole week, having an absolute blast.  Even took a day trip out to Carrera National Park, about 30 minutes away, where we went on a hike with a great guide who showed us Scarlet Macaws, Capuchin Monkies, Howler Monkies, Lizards, 2- and 3-Toed Sloths, Cicadas, Bats, and a wide variety of ants.

Our rental had a few issues (coolant light coming on for one, near bald tires for another), so when the rental company emailed to ask how we liked the car, Mike let them know.  They then arranged for a replacement when one became available, driving it right to the surf camp for us.  As we needed a 4x4 with decent tires for the second half of our trip, this replacement came as something of a relief.

The next leg of our adventure took us further south along the highway, where we broke up our 3+ hours of driving with a monkey challenge (me going through a tame version of a 6-part ninja course) and some zip lining.

Then we arrived at our next destination: the Finca Bellavista treehouse community, where we stayed in the rainforest for 4 nights.  Up a steep and rocky 3-mile road near Piedras Blancas National Park, you come upon this neat community with both renters, volunteers, and full-time home owners.  Our treehouse took a 10-minute walk to reach, and we had solar power and mosquito netting.  Luckily, it wasn't wet season, so we didn't see many bugs (other than the huge one hanging out on the bathroom mirror--likely friends with the gecko in the kitchen).  Finca Bellavista produces most of its own food, which you can purchase to cook up yourself, or have them cook it for you in the communal kitchen/eatery.  We did both.  With a few kilometers of trails, and multiple ones at that--some in loops, some to the river or waterfall, one to a scenic point--we never lacked for things to do.  We had a routine of hiking in the morning, sitting on the covered balcony in the afternoons when it rained, then going to base camp for 'happy hour' where we could meet with others before having some supper before walking back in the dark with myriad stars overhead, the rain clouds having cleared until the next day.

​Our last night of happy hour saw 8 people in the space (one being the bartender), where two of us (including the bartender) didn't have our cellphones out.  I sat there enjoying the view and writing stuff in my head, trying to figure out how to end my next book The Forgotten Magic.  At least when we all got to supper, we sat together and actually spoke to each other.  Better late than never!

On our third and final leg of the journey, we headed inland toward the mountains and cloud forest of the Quetzal Valley.  To break up that 3 hour drive, we stopped at the Nauyaca Waterfall, which is a 4 kilometer hike along a dirt and rock road that we managed to get to around 11 a.m.--so yes, we hiked 4 km each way in the highest heat of the day in a humid rainforest with the sun blazing down.  The waterfall was worth it, though, as well as the birds we saw along the way, including a toucan hanging out in a tree where we could actually see it.

Then we finally reached the Quetzal Valley, driving through the usual 3 p.m. shower.  Nelson met us at Quetzal Valley Cabins and showed us our cabin for the last 4 nights, doing a decent enough job explaining things even though he spoke Spanish, and we pretended we understood more than we did.  He conveyed the most important information; that we could drink the water from the tap, as it was spring fed.  As we had now gone into the higher altitudes (the valley spans somewhere between 8000-11,000 feet, depending on what part you're in), the temperatures had fallen.  The days ranged from 13-18 degrees C, and the nights went as low as 8.  The cabin had a heater and four layers of sheets/blankets on the bed.  We huddled under the blankets and toughed it out without the heater, though that first night saw a couple of chilly noses.
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​Quetzal Valley is famous for its population of the Resplendent Quetzal, a long-tailed and colourful bird, which we never did see despite learning a few places to look.  We did see many other birds though (like yellow thigh finches, black guam, collared redcap, swifts, hawks, sooty thrush, maybe some warblers and flycatchers) and hiked some very hilly terrain.  The path to the waterfall near the end of the road had some quite exciting patches, including bridges and stairs lacking some under-foot mesh (so you're walking on less-than-stable metal cross-pieces rather than full bridges) and a tree across the final stairs.  Also, the rope assist down to the actual waterfalls was great fun!

Most times, we ate at a place called Miriam's Quetzals, a nice little family-run business with good food.  They also had a spot out back with hummingbird feeders and a platform for feeding other birds, such as acorn woodpeckers and tanagers.

​On the last full day, we drove up to the highest spot of Cerro de la Muerte ('Summit of Death' at 3335 metres, or nearly 11 000 feet, where they have all their antennas and cell towers set up) and did some wandering.  We watched the clouds roll through, stealing the sun and masking everything outside a few metre radius, cloaking the world in a haze of mist.  We found one path that our GPS said went about a kilometre (a rather steep km down) and followed that, watching the flora change from scrubby and dull to lush and colourful, and when we reached the end, discovered that we had followed a maintenance road to a hydro tower.  Not as inspiring as we might have hoped.  We found a craggy rock to climb when we got back to the top and found the 'real' path that people likely usually take.  Hey, we always like finding things off the beaten track ...

We love Costa Rica, with its kind and generous people, fantastic scenery, awesome flora and fauna, and all around good feeling.  Mike's already planning next year's trip, possibly making this an annual outing.  Definitely worth it!

We all have best intentions; we all have intended goals.  We don't always reach them.

I had intended to reach 50 000 words in The Forgotten Magic by the end of December.  It seemed a reasonable goal at the beginning of the month when I had a little over 40 000 already written.  Less than 10 000 words--that's only 1000 words for 10 days, and 31 days to work with.  Surely achievable, despite preparations for the upcoming holidays.

Okay, so a few things got in the way.  My mother having open heart surgery for one.  We knew it was coming (after all, we had most of a month lead-time to prepare), and I figured I could work in some writing in between helping her prepare for the holidays (decorating her house, little bit of baking, some last minute shopping for both her and dad), but my mind didn't always stay on task.  Then the day of the surgery, and most of the following week with daily visits to the hospital--luckily only about 10 minutes away, so fortunately I could visit every day--around which time I managed to add about 6000 words, not bad, but not 10 000.  [She's doing well now, on the road to recovery, though often tired.  Some good days, some bad, taking it easy.]

Then came Christmas, with Mike and I travelling to visit family.  That's where we found the flu (not influenza, so it's not like the flu shot would have helped, but the stomach flu, the 24-hour kind that jumps out of nowhere and slams you to the ground, holding you hostage until you surrender everything in your gut several times before finally letting you go ... reluctantly).  A couple of days in 'quarantine' in Mike's brother's basement until we felt well enough to climb back in the car and make our way home.  Where we took it easy.

Happily, by New Year's Eve, we had fully recovered.  Just as well, as we had a few people over for food and drink, ping pong, and other games that night.   Lots of fun, not so much writing.

So January came, and I hadn't met my goal for December.  Thankfully, as a self-imposed goal, I had no problems stretching it.  New goal: make the December goal by mid-January, and reach for another 10 000 words by the end of January.  Well, today I reached the 50 000 mark.  Hoping I can keep it up!

Of course, it would help a lot if I could figure out just how I'm going to end the story.  I mean, I know the epilogue, what happens after; the climax, I'm still working out.  But it's getting there ....  We'll see what the rest of the month brings.

I have written and published four novels.  Until now, I have never had a book launch, so I decided the time had come.  On October 27, 2018, I hosted a Wine & Cheese Book Launch for my newest fantasy book The Forgotten King here at home.  My favourite comment from many when they received their invitation went something like: "I've never been to a book launch (or literary event) before!"  My response: "Me neither!"  I have had two previous opportunities to attend the launch of a friend (one by the dear Susan Deefholts--who wrote under the pen name Kathryn Anthony before she passed--and one by Carolyn Wilker, whom I at least got to see with her set-up in the Waterloo Chapters a few months back), but both times just didn't work with my schedule.  It only occurred to me much later that I had, in fact, attended a book launch /Q-A event at the Kitchener Chapters in the summer with Kelley Armstrong.  So my response should have gone more along the lines of: "I've never hosted a book launch."
Well, now I have, and I had a wonderful turnout of friends, family, neighbours, and fantastic people all around.  I didn't know quite what to expect, or how to prepare, so I started with invitations through evite and Facebook, a few emails, and word of mouth.  And lots of cheese and wine. 
The overwhelming support from all warmed my heart, especially those I had lost contact with (such as some folks from church), or had only met in the last few months (awesome band people and neighbours).  People wanted to buy my books--all my books--even if they couldn't attend the party, and that (perhaps obviously, though I believe I cannot overstate this) truly makes a writer's day.  It's not about the money, not for me.  It's about the enjoyment I can share, the escapism I can provide through my writing.  Knowing that someone can take time in a world I created in which to relax, to envision people and places that sprang from my mind to blossom in theirs, and that my work might make someone else smile--that's the epitome of this author's goal.  The fellowship of achieving some of this through a party, of sharing time and a love of reading,  of making people happy, is truly a blessing.
​Thank you all who made my first book launch (even if it was for my fourth book) a huge success!  I'm looking forward to many more :)

p.s., any reviews, on any of my books, on any site listing them, even if you didn't like the book, is greatly appreciated :D
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I haven't posted anything in a while, not because we haven't done anything, but because we've been busy living life.  So, a brief recap of the year thus far ...

In February, Mike & I went to Costa Rica, both the beach (Tamarindo), and the interior.    Mike learned to surf, and we went zip-lining for the first time (they're not big on allowing cameras that high, but rest assured, we had a blast).  Trekked around mountains and volcanoes, through jungle and forest.  Amazing time, truly!  We're hoping to get back soon, maybe November.

The marina where we stored our boat closed in May as the city of Hamilton really wants to re-purpose the land, so we had to get our boat to its new home.  While we had it all painted and ready to go in good order, it took the marina owner quite some time before he managed to get the boat in the water.  The city had deemed his forklift and crane unsafe, leaving many boats high and dry while the city kept issuing eviction notices.  Luckily, our boat got in just before that nonsense, so at least we weren't stuck on land.  We did have to wait to get our motor fixed and running, but at least the boat sat in the water by then.  Anyway, we eventually had everything together, and sailed off to our new marina, about an hour and a half sailing away (only about an extra 15 minutes drive time, but then, that's the nature of sailing).  That comprised our biggest sailing adventure this year, given some nasty summer colds that lasted a couple of weeks, rainy days, and other medical emergencies.

In May, Mike's mom had a bad fall, broke her leg and wrist, and spent the next couple of months in hospital recovering.  That saw many trips to and from Peterborough as Mike (and sometime me) helped his brother and sister look after their parents, and keep his dad sane in the upheaval.  After much debate and searching (soul searching as well as physically looking), the parents have found a temporary home in a lovely retirement home that offers exceptional physiotherapy for mom, and three spectacular meals a day for both (and any visitors), and they moved in almost two months ago.  We'll revisit things in the spring, so that they don't have to worry about trying to drive the back roads that would get them to their house in the middle of winter.

In the midst of that bit of excitement through the summer (coupled with various band concerts, get-togethers, work-issues, the Ride for Refuge fundraiser we participated in at the end of September for SHOW--Supportive Housing of Waterloo--and general living), I finished my latest novel, The Forgotten King.  At about the 3/4 mark, I decided this story could expand into two books, so for the first time, I intentionally created a book intended to have a sequel.  I resolve the main conflict, but I also leave questions and loose ends meant to have a resolution in book two (The Forgotten Magic, hopefully available by the end of 2019).  So far, book two sits at about 25 000 words, so about 1/4 of the way finished.  I started it before publishing The Forgotten King to determine if I could truly stretch the story into two parts.  I don't yet know everything that happens, or how I want it to end (which amuses my chiropractor no end), but I'm pretty sure it's doable.  I hope so, at any rate, as I just published The Forgotten King​ yesterday :D  Hopefully, the copies I ordered will arrive in time for my very first Book Launch, scheduled for Saturday October 27.  Wish me luck!

We arrived at km 104, the start of our trek toward Machu Picchu, at around 7:30 am.  The train stopped to let us and a couple dozen other hikers off at this access to the Inka Trail, and we met our guide Jorge, who had walked in from Aguas Callientes that morning (only about a one and-a-half hour hike) to meet us.  Jorge had a great sense of humour, lots of knowledge to impart, answered pretty much everything we thought to ask, and made sure we didn't get too tired or worn out as we hiked.

​We stopped at a couple of ruins along the way, saw another in the distance, and enjoyed the incredible scenery, as well as a lovely boxed lunch provided by the tour company.  This was pretty much the first day that I had more than soup for all three meals; nothing wrong with the food, it just took that long for my system to adjust to things.  By around 2:30, we made it to the Sun Gate of Machu Picchu and had our first sight of the famous city.

We made our way down from the Sun Gate to a fantastic view of Machu Picchu on a fairly clear day.  Then we hiked down to Aguas Callientes, or Machu Picchu town, found our hostel and got cleaned up, had supper with our guide, then went to bed early, as we had to be up and waiting for the buses back up by 4:30 am.  Machu Picchu doesn't open until 6, and the buses leave around 5:30, but to have a guaranteed seat, you have to line up early.

In the weeks leading up to our trip, we kept an eye on the long-range weather forecast.  It showed rain for our entire 10-day trip.  While a couple of days had the occasional spittle the you only noticed as it stopped, the day of our explorations of Machu Picchu called for 100% rain.  And didn't lie.  Jorge had us for 2 hours, whereupon we could reenter the site and stay as long as we wanted.  For the first maybe hour of Jorge's explanations, it remained mostly foggy and overcast (it had rained in the night).  This gave the rather awesome effect of the city seeming to float in the mist as the clouds floated past, lending a certain air of the ethereal to the mystical ruins.

And then the rain started again.  A steady drizzle that turned into a gentle downpour, then into a pretty awesome demonstration of how well the drainage still worked in Machu Picchu.  Those Incas sure knew how to build!  The last of our guided tour happened in a bit of a rush as dozens of sodden tourists quickly made their way to a couple of shelters near the exit.  Jorge finished up his presentation under the thatched roof, then bid us a wonderful day, leaving us to our own devices.

As the train back to Ollantaytambo didn't leave until 6:30 that evening, and it hadn't yet reached 8 am, we decided to wait out the rain for a bit, then just dove back in, seeing as we were already wet.  Somehow, our timing worked out, as the downpour eased back to a steady drizzle, then just overcast skies.  Leaving us a very pleasant day to explore the ruins.

About a 15 minute hike from Machu Picchu, you'll find the Inka Bridge.  We didn't know what to expect, but went to take a look.  You're required to sign in before you can take the trail, then sign out again, presumably so that they know if anyone's fallen off the edge of the cliff on the way to the bridge.  I'm not joking.  It's a narrow trail in places (no more than a couple feet wide) and most of it open to the air.  I loved it.

As we approached the bridge (you can look, but you can't cross), and I saw the huge plank spanning the space, I thought, 'neat, but so what?'  And then I took a closer look and the whole architectural marvel of it just about blew my mind.  The plank is not the interesting part; the sheer volume of stones put in place over 500 years ago, along a vertical cliff face in the middle of nowhere without the use of scaffold or mortar, and still mostly intact--that's just damned impressive.  You do truly have to see it to get the full impact, and pictures don't do it justice, but I've included one here anyway.  Just amazing.

Eventually, we made our way back down to Aguas Callientes (walking rather than getting a bus), had some food, and caught our train.  We knew that we would share the bus back with Cuzco with some other Salkantay trekkers, and had a moment of worry having to listen to a rowdy group on the train (and getting rowdier and more obnoxious with every beer they tossed back) with Salkantay packs (we really wanted to apologise for the most obnoxious, as he loudly claimed Canada as his home).  Luckily, our bus had the other worried train passengers, leaving the party bus to annoy a different driver.  Our group pretty much slept back to Cuzco, much to everyone's relief.

We spent another couple of nights in Cuzco, but really only one day, as the bus didn't arrive until after 10:30 pm, and the flight back to Lima left at 8:30 am.  We checked out a market with everything you could possibly need, from knitwear and souvenirs to fruit and raw chicken, and most things in between.  Then off to Lima.

We met an entrepreneur named Juan that Mike had made a connection with for lunch at a fabulous (and slightly schmoozy) restaurant called La Mer, where we had cebiche (or ceviche, if you want to Americanized spelling), the must-have Peruvian seafood dish.  Mike and Juan talked about UAVs and how Mike and Aeryon might help Juan with various humanitarian efforts he has a hand in.  Juan ordered a wonderful selection of dishes for us (including octopus--delish!) so I don't know what all we had, but every bite was fantastic.  Dipped our toes in the ocean, just to say we did.  Despite the surfers, it was too cold to swim, though the hang gliders had some impressive updrafts.

​We had planned a walking tour of Lima (we stayed in the Miraflores district, and this tour would have taken us into Lima proper), but despite about 8 or 10 of us gathered, no guide showed up, though when Mike called, they said someone would come the next day.  Wouldn't work for us, as this was our final day.  So we set off with 3 others of the group for a bit of a wander to the food market.  After a bit, Mike and I decided to just head back to our Airbnb, taking in some shops and parks along way.

Had some causa for supper--again, a Peruvian dish.  Basically a mashed potato sandwich with whatever filling they have on offer.  I had mine filled with avocado and tuna.  Peru has something like 3000 different kinds of potato, and maybe half that for different kinds of corn.  Whatever variety of potato bracketed my causa, it seemed nice enough.

Our driver arrived around 1:30 am to take us to the airpoirt for our 5 am flight home, saying that night traffic is pretty bad, given all the early flights.  That said, we had smooth sailing (or driving) and made it to the airport with lots of time to spare.  Some turbulence on the flight, but we made it home all safe and sound.

Besides the fantastic scenery, Peru has some great food and wonderful people.  If you've ever thought of going, I highly recommend it!

Mike had some time off work this fall and we knew we wanted to go somewhere, but hadn't settled on a destination yet.  We started to compile a list and research the best time to see various places.  Turns out our target month of November doesn't have a lot going for it in terms of weather for most of our desired locations: many of the islands and tourist hot-spots in Greece shut down in October; much of Europe turns as grey and miserable as home; we did New Zealand last year.  We weren't looking for anything Caribbean this time (and just as well, given the horrible damage of this past hurricane season) and didn't really want to do anything in Asia.  Costa Rica remains on the list (possibly something in late winter to escape our Ontario frigidness), but we finally settled on Peru, despite November heralding the start of their rainy season.

We decided this in October, and that we would travel early to mid-November.  Which gave us less than a month to prepare.  Vaccines, crash course in Spanish (Duolingo says I'm 61% fluent after 3 weeks), researching what to do and where to go and then booking flights, accomodations, and tours--we somehow managed it all while keeping sane and not panicking.

Final itinerary: Fly direct to Lima from Toronto on a 6 pm flight that landed at 2 am.  Hang around the airport until 5:30 am and fly to Cuzco (3400 metres, or 11 150 feet).  Transport to hotel to begin acclimatising to the height, stay for 2 nights.  Tour by bus to Pisac & Ollantaytambo ruins (2800 metres, or 9200 feet), and stay in Ollantaytambo for 2 nights.  Two day trek to Machu Picchu (2400 metres, or 8000 feet) [actually, 1 day trek, night in Aguas Callientes, then 2nd day at Machu Picchu], with train & bus ride back to Cuzco, arriving around 10:30 pm.  Stay in Cuzco for 2 nights, then fly back to Lima for 2 nights, then home on a 5 am flight.

So off we went ...

We arrived in Cuzco somewhat exhausted, though I managed more sleep on the plane than Mike.  Interrupted sleep, what with that 2 am landing and layover, but sleep nonetheless.  You know that feeling when you realise that the snippet of rest actually made you feel worse because of the interruption, and you just wish you'd stayed awake instead?  Yeah ...

Anyway, we got to Cuzco airport around 7 am and ... no transportation waiting for us, despite Mike making arrangements the morning before we left.  No problem; lots of taxis.  Nice driver, pointed out some of the sights, gave some advice, drove without much regard to lanes, turn signals, or how close the next motorist or motorcyclist drove beside us--in other words, exactly like every other driver in Peru.  Somehow it all stays very civil and we saw no accidents (or blood from pedestrians skimming by millimetres from the vehicles).  Arrived at our hotel and left our bags while they finished preparing our room (this is 7:30 in the morning, and folks are very accommodating).  So many flights in Lima and Cuzco arrive or leave at late/early hours that everyone is used to it and make the best out of it.  While we waited, we wandered over to the Plaza de Armas, about a block away.  At this point, I can feel the altitude in the form of a slight headache, and shortness of breath, and that's with the medication suggested for altitude sickness.  Peruvians have coca tea to help combat this, but our taxi driver pointed out that it also boosts energy, so if we wanted to rest, having a drink of coca tea would not get the job done.  At any rate, we had a little sit down in the square, and soon a group of teens approached and wanted to sit with us.  After much fumbling with words and gestures, we figured out they wanted a selfie with us.  Seemed strange, but what the heck.  They got their pictures, thanked us profusely, and went on their way.  As this happened again on our second pass through Cuzco, we figured this is either a bizarre high school fetish (get you picture taken with tourists), or some kind of class project.

We spent a couple of days in Cuzco, saw a couple of museums, a few churches (no pictures allowed--they all have a lot of niches and gold- or silver-gilded spaces, statuary, stonework, artwork, all in buildings lacking windows so it's a little dark and gloomy, and sometimes rather gaudy), fascinating architecture, tourists, some alpacas led around by traditionally garbed Peruvians, and lots of alpaca sweaters.  And, of course, cobbled streets, stairs, and steep hills.

We used Salkantay Tours for our two treks.  They picked us up from our hotel in Cuzco and, together with a family of four (parents and 2 grown sons in their early 20s), we headed off on our first trek; Cuzco to Pisac to Ollantaytambo--all part of the Sacred Valley.  Both Pisac and Ollantaytambo have Incan ruins and Marco, our guide, provided some fascinating information.  The term Inca actually refers to the leader, or king, not to the people, and there were only 11 Incas, the 9th being the most famous, as he initiated the building of Machu Picchu, as well as most of the other sacred sites.  Most of the ruins had a spiritual significance to the Inca culture, built high in the mountains to commune more closely with Pachamama (you can loosely think of this goddess as Mother Nature) and Pachapapa (her consort).  But the sites also had strategic importance, seeing as the Andeans were a war-like society.  These cities both watched the passes heading to Cuzco (the 'navel' of their world, and most important city where the Inca lived), and provided waypoints to those travelling along the many Inca Passes.

The town of Ollantaytambo itself, where we stayed for a couple of nights, has a neat blend of tourist and locals.  We saw school kids in their uniforms brushing elbows with backpackers, native speakers (either speaking Spanish or Quechuan, the descendants of the Inca people) conversing with foreigners--Mike found google translate especially helpful in obtaining some take out soup--tourist police and taxi drivers, all getting along.  As November is a shoulder season in Peru, the streets aren't as crowded as high season, so the folks trying to entice you in to their restaurants do try to get your attention (though not nearly as aggressively as in Cuzco), but tend to leave you alone when you indicate your disinterest.  In Cuzco, you pretty much have to pretend they don't exist in the first place, or every seller follows you around.  Ollantaytambo had a more relaxed ambiance.  And being lower in altitude, we had no problems with shortness of breath, though the streets are no less steep.

We had an early train to take us toward the start of our Inca Trail hike, though thankfully not as early had we started in Cuzco, as many treks do.  Salkantay Tours happily accommodated our to schedule, and while Peru has many tour companies who would likely have done the same accommodations, we had a great experience with Salkantay.
So, on to our day trek and Machu Picchu ...