July - It's a Wrap

 How is it that July is behind us already? The days and months are speeding by, and although one part of me wishes time would slow down, another part of me wants to be in autumn already. It’s no secret that Fall is my favourite season, and hot, smoky summers are not.

We had a couple of days where the air was so smoky and unhealthy ( a rating of 11, with 10+ being very high risk on the Canadian Air Quality Health index), that even indoors with windows closed, my eyes and throat burned. Forest fires are an annual summer thing now, and yet people still deny climate change, and the orange-guy-in-charge to the south of us threatened tariffs over wild-fire smoke blowing in their direction, while online memes suggested Canada was trying to “sage” out the evil.

I did a couple of things quite out of my usual MO in July. In our annual condo AGM, I stood up and ran for a position on the board of directors! I didn’t get elected (thank goodness??), but then I volunteered for a new social committee being formed. Me? Volunteering to be social? Who even am I? I said to a friend over coffee the other day, “I’m not a social person” and she replied, “No, you’re not.” You might remember that I’m the condo book club organizer (on hiatus over the summer), but in my view, meeting over books and meeting for the sake of socializing are two different things entirely.

So I ask myself – why am I doing these things? I do want to live in a community, but I also highly prize my alone time and independence. Maybe it’s an aging thing, wanting to slow down and get to know your neighbours, offering your support, accepting theirs. But there’s another wrinkle to the social committee that may or may not be formed, and, if I’m on it, I’ll have to make this disclosure:

I have already written a novel (yet unpublished) about women trying for a spot on a social committee in a condo community! It is as if I’ve manifested this situation. As of yet, none of my neighbours read this blog or even know I write one. My novel is, of course, not based on any real characters…but, if the book ever goes into print, will they think it is?

And, for the first time in the nine-plus years I’ve been here, I attended the annual condo summer BBQ yesterday. Slow progress, baby steps.

I’m not a recluse (she says unconvincingly) and I do enjoy being in small social circles. I’ve spent time with women friends over the month, socializing, chatting, eating, drinking and there’s something about being in the company of a small group of women that is so very different from being in mixed company, especially when the women are intelligent and kind, supportive and funny, real and devoid of any pretensions. Bonus if they love food as much as you do and extra bonus if they are excellent in the kitchen and enjoy doing it.

I had some oat bars at one of those recent gatherings and enjoyed the simple deliciousness so much I tried making some while realizing I’ve never before made oat bars! And then I also learned that the kind of oats you use matters: rolled oats with big flakes do not clump into bars. So now I’m calling my attempts oat granola. It’s still very delicious and I’ve already made and consumed three batches.

RECENT PAINTING:

I returned to painting with acrylics and here are the results (along with a haiku).

Mid Summer’s calling 

Nowhere to be except here

Quietly Falling 

RECENT READING

THE TEN YEAR AFFAIR – ERIN SOMERS

This book, while intriguing and well-written, left me with mixed feelings.

Cora, married with two kids and a seemingly healthy relationship with her husband, is attracted to Sam, a dad also with two kids and a busy, successful wife. What follows creates all kinds of questions: is an ongoing imaginary affair cheating? And why would someone allow this unhealthy kind of imaginary life to continue at such length, without questioning the underlying reasons?

The details and observations in the book are great – things we all think about at some point but do not voice –Only two tomatoes in my salad? For me, it was the little details and insights that make this book, more than the characters themselves and their growth (or lack thereof, which is debatable). But there was an underlying sense of discomfort I just couldn’t shake while reading it. It’s sharp and witty and engaging, wry and dry, but ultimately unsettling.

THE LIAR’S PLAYBOOK – LESLIE BRADFORD-SCOTT

In this compelling memoir, the author receives a manuscript her father wrote while in prison. And so begins her digging into the past, trying to uncover the secrets of who her father really was.

From Hamilton and Grimsby in Southern Ontario, to Florida (a sudden, dramatic move), LBS’s memories of her childhood don’t align with her father’s. What is the truth? Her father is a larger-than-life personality with friends and enemies and rumoured connections to the Mafia, CIA, FBI.

This is a very brave uncovering of layers of secrets others might prefer to keep hidden. It raises the questions of which parts of ourselves we inherit and can we accept the truth of who we are.

GO GENTLE – MARIA SEMPLE

When I read “Where’d You Go Bernadette?” many years ago, I fell in love with Semple’s writing, then quickly read another of hers, then forgot about her for a long time.

So when I picked up GO GENTLE, I wondered if my Semple love would prevail or if it was a thing of the past. I couldn’t even remember anything about her previous much-loved book.

I loved this book. It’s hard to explain how a book where the female main character (ADORA HAZZARD – what a name!) is a philosopher, frequently quoting the Stoics (Seneca, Aurelius), can delight one so much. And yet it does. There’s a crazy mix of plot: a comedy screenwriter turned philosopher, mother of a teen daughter, gets mixed up in an art heist, starts a coven for midlife women in her NYC apartment building, swears off men but falls in love. And yet – it all works. How? I have no idea, but I’m still very much a Semple fan.

   SENECA: "We suffer more in imagination than in reality."

YESTERYEAR – CARO CLAIRE BURKE

Yes, I gave in to the hype.

 A satire that, even when it’s humorous, is grim and scathing.  You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

So much ugly truth in the pages:

America labels women as angry and hates them for their feminism; the influencers and pretenders out there, with their “… long, golden string of insincerity that threads together the entire human race”; the performance of faith; “the less a woman speaks, the better“.

A wild ride of a book, equally entertaining and horrifying with a vile main character. It’s like a highway pile-up you can’t tear your eyes away from. I couldn’t stop reading.