We were in Picton for a few days. Did I mention that? We were in Picton for a few days, heading off down the 401 Highway west to visit with father-in-law and his wife for a few days. It was March Break, after all, and the young ladies required a change of scenery. Perhaps we did, also.
Christine on the couch for five days with her knitting, books. Myself on the other couch for five days with my books and manuscripts and notebook and chapbooks and so many other paper-mayhem. Admittedly, there were stretches where one day did bleed into the next, watching the mist stretch across the length of the river beyond father-in-law's backyard, as the young ladies fell from activity to activity. I think they saw alpacas at one point, and even did a shirt-painting event at the public library. Did they manage both parks, or just the one?
I finally finished the Stanley Tucci memoir while there. Christine gifted me the book for Christmas, and I read half on Christmas Day, and the rest during March Break. It's hard not to read such a book without feeling hungry, and wishing to try every recipe. It's hard not to read such a book without feeling so comforted through his tone that somehow, unbelievably, we're already friends. I should really go over. No, no. And apparently father-in-law gifted same for Christmas, and he did try one of the recipes: the martini. A lot of alcohol, he said. Do you think Stanley Tucci knows of the martini/martinus joke in the classic Wayne and Shuster "Julius Caesar sketch" that I regularly post every year on my birthday? Probably not. Perhaps I should write him a letter just to make sure.
I probably made initial notes on at least twenty-five or even thirty reviews while there, working through an array of books and chapbooks, including a few that I realized I didn't quite wish to review (this happens, for a variety of reasons, including "I don't feel as I have anything constructive to say," or even "I don't really care for this and don't wish to spend that much time with it" etc; reviews take a considerable amount of time and attention, after all, and it is mine to give). Going slowly through the new McClelland and Stewart poetry titles, the new Coach House Books poetry titles, the new House of Anansi poetry titles and a handful of plenty of other things (a Vehicule title, a University of Nebraska Press title, a McGill-Queen's title, a Delete Press title, an Omnidawn title, a Shearsman Books title, a Litmus Press title, etcetera). Of course, part of the push is just knowing how much there is still to come, and wishing to get some of these things dealt with before the rest lands. How much is enough? Curious to see, also, the new Anvil, Turnstone, Vehicule, Talonbooks, New Star, Invisible, etcetera.
With the young ladies, we played checkers, read stories and caught the new Pixar flick, also (it was delightful, honestly), watched via Disney+ on their downstairs couch. Good to see parts of Toronto, including Skydome and the CN Tower. Did you know my eldest daughter attended the same high school in Ottawa's west end as did Sandra Oh? Very different years, obviously. Apparently Gary Barwin attended there, as well. Rose and I finished reading the second Harry Potter novel, also (she's really been into those lately; we haven't the heart to tell her the author is a terrible person). We finished book two, which allowed the opportunity to then see the film. I established the rule that we can't see one of the Potter flicks until we're finished the book. We caught the film Sunday night, soon after home. She's already eager for book three.
One one of our last afternoons, father-in-law and his wife tossed us out for a "date afternoon," with a birthday-related gift card to Gillingham Brewing Company, which we liked well enough (I think I preferred the prior visit's jaunt, over to Parson's). Christine had the oysters, naturally. I had some drinks, and even brought a handful of them home. We hit the bookstore en route, as one does. It was good to see the display of Invisible Publishing titles, and then realize there were associated displays, including Snare Books and our own Chaudiere Books (both of which Invisible had acquired, at various points). Our books are still in stores! Very nice. Every time I walked by any books by Zoe Whittall, it would fall from the shelf and land loudly upon the floor, which prompted me to wonder how Zoe might have rigged up such a thing. And, I thought, whomever put Stuart Ross' book to this position in the bookstore in Picton, offering a particular kind of banner above, "I approve of your messaging" [I have since discovered that this was Cameron Anstee, but a day prior to our discovery]. I picked up a couple of things, including a Sheila Heti title, and the latest by Kim Thúy. I also excitedly picked up a book for the wee children, excitedly offering it to Aoife, only for her to respond: "We already have that." Dammit.
What else? Not much, honestly. Five days of being able to breathe just a bit; that was nice (and our hosts are quite good cooks, also, with very good taste in wine, I might add). And the kids ran around in different surroundings, with different folk (they even had tea and separate park play-date with neighbour's fully-vaccinated five-year-old granddaughter). And then we returned home, all looking forward to landing back in our own space, and back into our routines. Hopefully a wee bit refreshed.
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