tonight’s bloggereenoh

The house is so quiet.  Just me and the two dogs.  Don made a delicious dinner, recipe courtesy of the Naked Chef.  My husband tried another new recipe. 

I always get a little nervous when Don tries out something different, because it’s sort of tricky.  I want to encourage him to continue to split the cooking duties, because honestly this is the first time in my life I’ve been in a relationship where the household chores are shared equally and I REALLY appreciate it!  But if the recipe that he chooses is really disgusting...well, I don’t want to be too enthusiastic or he’ll cook it again! 

For those of you in new relationships, take heart.  It didn’t start out this way.  We were together for around a year before I confessed to him that even though I liked cooking and had been doing it all of my life, that every once in a while it would be nice not to have the responsibility of three meals a day resting solely on my shoulders.  WELL, Don decided then and there that he would make dinner that very night!  He spent hours on the computer pouring over recipes.  Then with a list of ingredients in his hot little hand, he drove to the market.  When he got home he put on one of my aprons.

“Dinner will be ready at 6!” he said, triumphantly, dumping out the grocery bags onto the counter.  He chopped and diced and chopped and diced, face getting redder and redder, chewing his tongue, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his sleeve.  Six o’clock came and went.  Seven o’clock (Keep in mind this was a school night.  On school nights I generally try to serve dinner between 5-6.) Finally a little after 8 o’clock at night, dinner was served.  Complete with special sauces and parsley garnishes. 

We poked at it nervously, what was it?  We chewed.  We swallowed.  We made appreciative noises.  We hoped that the dog would somehow find a way to get it’s mouth around this particular batch of recipes and chew them beyond all recognition.

But tonight!  Tonight was a triumph.  Ever since Don discovered the Naked Chef cookbooks, the family no longer has to tremble as it approaches the dinner table.  Even when he tries out a new recipe, it is generally really good.  And tonight was fantastic!  He made chicken breast wrapped in pancetta, with sprigs of thyme laid over top, cooked on leeks and some delicious roast potatoes.  He really has become an excellent cook and I am very happy (because there is nothing my stomach likes better than well cooked food) and grateful (because now I no longer have to cook every single meal this family ingests!)

It wasn’t so much the work part of the cooking, because really, it’s no big deal.  The part that was hard was deciding what to cook, day after day, week after week.  Because lets face it, I started cooking when I was five.  I’m forty-seven now, so I’ve been eating my own cooking forever it seems and ones tongue can get a little bit bored.  “Oh...It’s you again,” it says.  “Yawn...”

Anyway, Don cooked dinner tonight, but that wasn’t what I was going to blog about.  I thought I was going to talk about being alone in the house.  Just me and the dogs, because everybody went to the movies and I don’t like going to the movies anymore.  And how it’s a weird feeling, all this quiet after so much noise.  I thought I was going to talk about how Scooter was growling and barking at the shrub when I took the dogs out to do their business. Pitch black sky with an extremely fast moving translucent cloud was sprinting across the crescent moon.  And how when Scooter was being an aggressive terrier, I scurried the dogs back inside, because I was remembering what that guy a couple of weeks ago told me.  How just a few blocks from here a guy was cutting his shrub and his little dog was going crazy barking at the shrub and how this big paw appeared through the shrub and nabbed the little dog.  The owner chased the cougar to the local elementary school, just down the block from us, where the cougar was lounging on the roof and feasting on this guy’s dog before the police came and shot it.  I was going to write about how Scooter’s been growling at the windows and doors all night, and this little pip-squeak dog probably thinks he’s looking out for me, protecting me, being the man of the house since everyone’s gone.  But I have to say...it’s not too comforting.  I wish he would stop.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, November 17, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

sometimes writing is fun

I had the best morning ever!  I’m really excited with this new direction I’m taking The Big Muckle in.  It was one of those glorious mornings where the writing came easy and my new ideas seemed to work.  It’s like everything felt in sharper focus and the stuff that was okay to leave in from the old manuscript was written with a florescent magic marker or something.  It was just so easy, after days of struggling, to jettison paragraphs and pages that no longer worked or had relevance.  Whacking out huge chunks, sentences, paragraphs, entire pages flying over my shoulder, helter skelter!  Sometimes only a fraction of a sentence off an entire page that would remain.  And the rest...gone! 

And the thing is, sometimes when I try this kind of drastic overhaul, I just screw everything up and it become a hopeless disappointing gooey mess.  But not today!  Today, the work of the last week, is finally starting to take shape and make sense and I know I’m only 20 pages in to the new rewrite, but today it’s like the sun peeked out and I feel hopeful that the rest of the manuscript will follow. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, November 16, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

Important safety alert about Google!

I just read this at the end of Richard Russell’s Dow Theory’s daily remarks.  He said to tell family and friends so I don’t imagine he’d mind if I posted it here.  It is quite concerning for a number of reasons. 

Google has implemented a new feature which enables you to type a telephone number into the search bar and hit enter and you will be given the person’s name and address. If you then hit Map, you will get a map to the person’s house. Everyone should be aware of this! It’s a nationwide reverse telephone book.

If a child gives out his/her phone number, someone can now look it up to find out where he/she lives. The safety issues are obvious, and alarming. Note that you can have your phone number removed or blocked. I tried my number and it came up along with the map and directions straight to our house. I did fill out the removal form for myself, and encourage all of you to do the same. This is quite scary.

Please look up your own number. In order to test whether your phone number is mapped, go to: Google http://www.google.com/) Type your phone number in the search bar(i.e. 555-555-1212) and hit enter. If you want to BLOCK Google from divulging your private information, simply click on your telephone number and then click on the Removal Form. Removal takes 48-hours.

Check your own number and although this may not apply to you if you have an unlisted number or cell phone as primary contact, you may know someone who needs to know this.

Please share this information with friends and family.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, November 15, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

brief update

Okay, I just wanted to let you all in on the latest Big Muckle news.  I brought in an arbitrator (ahem...myself) and we’ve come to a compromise.  I’ve decided to let Gus (that’s the old guy in my manuscript who was making such a big noisy fuss about deletion) stay.  But in a entirely different capacity.  He’s agreed to a position of less prominence and importance in exchange for me agreeing not to eradicate him completely.  He’s very happy.  It’s quite moving actually.  Alright, back to the work.  Just wanted to tell somebody!

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, November 15, 2007 in

a jumbled up mess, but still life is good.

Well...I should be writing right now.  I have a nice chunk of uninterrupted time.  I could really dive in, long and deep...But it’s so much more fun blog to you!
I’ll just do a shortish blog and then buckle down to work.  At least that’s the plan.  But when one has work hanging over ones head it’s amazing how the procrastinations can just gobble up the time. 

That’s the challenge I think.  This new schedule.  More people in the house.  More needs to be filled.

It used to be that we’d get up at 6:45 am.  Don and I would alternate.  One week I cook the hot breakfast and Don does takes the dogs out, makes a school lunch or arranges the lunch money and drives Will to school.  The next week, Don’s on breakfast duty and I’m on the other.  (Once in a while I manage to do the weeks ironing on Sunday night, but more often than not, I fly around in the morning ironing Will’s school shirt and pants.) Then when one of us was driving Will to school, the other one did the breakfast clean-up and put the pot on to boil.  By the time the driver got home the other one had the mugs of steaming hot tea all ready, and we’d both disappear into our writing rooms until our work was done. 

But now, there’s two breakfasts to cook.  The early morning one and then the 10:00 am one when our friend and care-giver wakes up.  And then, we usually skipped lunch, but our friend has diabetes and it’s really important that he eat regularly.  So there’s the lunch to prepare by 1:00 at the latest.  And you don’t just want to slap the food down and run because I think part of the problem was loneliness.  And it is important not to eat alone.  So by the time he’s done lunch it’s around 2.  And of course there are all the regular day to day chores as well, straightening, laundry, feeding and exercising the dogs, dishes, grocery shopping, homework, emails to answer.  And then of course...there is the blog!  Can’t not do the blog!  It’s way too much fun.  Much more fun than slogging along trying to wrestle with a stubborn manuscript that is irritated that I’ve decided to remove entirely one of the main characters from my last draft.  This guy does not want to be ejected and is arguing big time and hanging on to my fingers to keep them away from the delete and cut features of this computer.

Oh, and guess what else?  We did the whole screenplay deal, everything’s agreed on, signed etc.  I’ve written script and handed it in.  Everything’s roses right?  Not quite!  Apparently the one page release form that Rosie’s people sent over to my publisher has some language that the legal affairs person at my publishing house has difficulty with.  And because I’m WGA I can’t even talk to either side about the issues.  I can’t try to persuade anybody to do anything.  It’s out of my hands.  It’s not up to me.  And neither side is budging.  Phooey!  I don’t know what’s going to happen.

Now, it might seem like I’m complaining, but actually, I’m not.  I feel quite content at the moment.  My Molly dog snoring on my floor.  Right before I blogged I ate a chocolate ice cream crunch bar.  What could be better?  I live in a house where if I want to go to the freezer and get myself a special treat I can!  And I do!  Well, I’m going off to write now.  Thanks guys for warming up my writing fingers.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, November 15, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

co..co…cold!

The radio show, Sounds Like Canada (CBC) was taped, so for those of you who were fiddling around with your radio dials yesterday, it won’t be playing until this Friday. 

It was kind of funny, right after I blogged you guys yesterday, I ran upstairs to take a quick bath.  WELL, let me tell you...It was way quicker than even I anticipated!  We have a ton of people in the house.  Little did I know that I was the last person to get to the hot water tank.  I just blithely turned the faucets to their normal, perfect-bathwater-temperature-for-Meg position, flew around the room getting everything else organized, and then when there was a couple of inches of water in the tub I lept in, (And yes, there is nothing I like better than a nice deep tub of water, but with all the water shortage problems that are developing in the world, it’s only very rarely that I will indulge.) Well, thank god that I was being frugal with the water, because that bath was lukewarm to cold.  YOWZAH!  I danced around on tiptoe while I turned the cold water handle completely off.  No help, the water that should be steaming out, scalding hot, is only a tepid warm. 

What to do?  I have, have, HAVE to wash my hair!  I take a deep breath and plunge in.  And in case you have any doubts, let me just reassure you that that was the fastest bath the world has ever seen!  FREEZING COLD!!!

There was a huge pile up on our route, so we had to do a U-turn, whip out the map and find an alternate way to go.  Luckily, ever since that ridiculous cab ride to that library in Toronto, I’ve been giving myself a ludicrous amount of wiggle-room and so even though we had to weave and back-track and zig this way and that, we still made it to the radio station with 20 minutes to spare.

I do the radio show in my coat.  By the way, it’s not like it’s a freezing cold day outside.  It’s around 9 degrees Celsius.  Anyway, I’m not just wearing a coat, I’m wearing a sweater AND a winter scarf looped around my neck!  But still my teeth are clattering.  (It probably would have helped if I’d had time to blow dry my hair, but you see, that is one of the blessings of doing a radio show.  I could have showed up in my flannel pajamas and nobody but the host and the producer would have been the wiser.)

Anyway, here it is, more than 24 hours later and the cold is still dancing around in the marrow of my bones.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, November 14, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

radio show

Snuggled in bed last night, talking with Don when all of a sudden I am struck with a terrifying thought.  “Honey,” I say.  “What day is it?”
“Monday,” he says.
“No, what day?  What number?”
“I don’t know...I think it’s the...”
“Is it the 12th?” I say, talking over him, finishing his sentence.
“Yeah,” Don says nodding.  He doesn’t even mind that I’m always doing this.  Overlapping.  That’s how much he loves me.
“Oh my god!” I say, adrenaline running through me.  “I have a radio show tomorrow morning and I totally lost track of the days!  What if I had forgot?  That would have been horrible.  Don’t forget to remind me tomorrow.  Right when we wake up.  Say, Meg, you have a radio show this morning.  Okay?”
Don looks nervous.  “I’ll try,” he says, fidgeting.  “But, you know how busy it’s been.”
I leap out of bed.  Grab his robe.  “I’ll email myself,” I say.  “That way I can’t forget because I check my emails in the morning.”
And so I did.  I’ve gotta go now, run upstairs, get ready for Sounds Like Canada 10 o’clock today.  Everyones been fed, the dogs have been out, my son drove us to school we dropped him off and I drove back.  Walking from the car to the house, the morning sun slanting across the yard, the air, redolent with the smells of autumn and my god it’s a wonderful day to be alive. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, November 13, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

Last night

The wind was howling last night, hooting down the chimney, and still this morning, it’s going strong.  There was a day trip planned to Victoria but the 7 o’clock and 9 a.m. ferries have both been cancelled, so the jaunt has been postponed until tomorrow (if the wind dies down)

Our next door neighbors are obviously out of town for the long weekend because it is the third night in a row that there has been a wild party thrown.  Last night just before 4 a.m. I’m lying in bed, whoops and hollers and bits of drunken conversation, carried to me on the wind.  There is a car revving, outside the house, and I get worried, they’ve been partying hard for days.  Is it safe for this person to drive?  My mind flashing back to our first night home, in the crowded emergency ward.  That’s the hospital these kids will be taken to if they ran off the road.  I want to call the police.  Not to stop the party, kids will be kids, but to stop this person from driving home.

“But maybe,” I told myself.  “This guy’s the designated driver?  My son David always was.  He’s probably fine.  Been sipping water all night.  Just gunning the motor to show off to the girls.” I breathed deep, tried to calm my clenched up belly.

And then I heard, “Mike no!” “Mike you can’t drive that car.” “Come on Mike.” It sounds like a tussle.  Whoever is in the car starts tooting the horn.  Not loud, just light toots, like tapdancing feet.  And then a door slams the engine guns and a car screams down the cul-de-sac.  There are shrieks and squeals, giddy female ones, falling out the passenger windows, skipping over the burned rubber of the tires as the vehicle screeches around the corner.  Silence on the lawn of our neighbours house.  My pounding heart.  No way to stop them.  I send a prayer for their safe arrival home.  Hope that the streets are bare of other cars and people.  The kids next door go back inside.  Everythings quiet now.  I don’t know.  Maybe the rest of the party is sleeping over on the sofas, floors.  After three nights of partying, I imagine there is going to be some heavy duty cleaning going on there this morning before the parents get home. 

It’s odd isn’t it.  We’re new in the neighborhood.  Never met these neighbours.  Living side by side and I have no idea what they even look like.  Gone are the days of warm plates of welcome-to-the-neighbourhood cookies.  But I feel connected somehow.  Like I know something about them.  I know that their kid has friends who are old enough to drive.  I know that they tried to stop one of their friends from driving home drunk.  I know that they didn’t succeed.  I know this much now, about them.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, November 12, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

wind storm

He decided to stay.  Thank God! 

Feeling relieved and a little shell-shocked.  Like a tornado just tore through our house.  Been having bad nightmares the last few nights.  All of the dreams boiling down to the same thing.  Him being in danger and me not being able to save him, convince him, get to him in time.  And then nightmares almost becoming the reality.  He was going to leave, walk out of my life, out of his future and I was so scared.  Scared for him and sad for me. 

This morning, he was scheduled for a 10:30 am pick up to take him to the plane.  So, at 9:20 am I brought his breakfast tray down.  Buttermilk pancakes with summer berry compote (yes, for the old time bloggers, it was about 1/2 of those delicious organic blueberries I wrote about) Fresh squeezed lemonade.  (Was it a last ditch bribe?  Perhaps.) As I turned the corner from the stairs, I noticed that the lights in his bedroom were out.  For one less than admirable moment, I had the impulse to quietly turn around, slip back upstairs, let him sleep through the morning, his car arriving, his plane flight.  But I didn’t.  I made myself do the honorable thing and knocked on his door, woke him up.  Got him scooted up in bed, pillows behind his back, gave him his breakfast.

And that’s when he told me, mouth all mumbly from sleep.  “I canceled the flight,” he said.

I can’t even begin to describe the relief that poured through me.  Thank heavens, he’s safe for a little bit longer, and maybe even longer still.  I’m not going to look too far forward, just do my best, and hope, and throw a couple of prayers in there for good measure. xo

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, November 10, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

my friend

Okay, he’s healthy again, he’s feeling strong, he walked on the treadmill yesterday for 8 whole minutes, didn’t get winded.  He’s gained 11 lbs and no longer looks like a walking skeleton.  And he’s leaving.  Going back to the situation and people that allowed him to sink into the depths and then further.  Whose very laziness and lack of integrity almost killed him in the first place.  He is a grown man and has the right to his choices.  Even if I disagree, have a polar opposite point of view as to what happened and why.  My heart is so sore and angry and grieving, but I also hope I am wrong.  That he is right.  That he is going towards his happiness.  And if that happiness means a shorter life perhaps, at least it’s spent the way he wanted, chose, for whatever reason. 

The thing is, as a friend, I can not stand by, witness, what I feel will be the end of him.  Choose to stay and be healthy, taken care of, loved.  Or choose to leave and when you walk out of that door, you walk out of my life, because I cannot take the heartbreak of scraping you up off the floor of the ICU again, because of a situation all of your choosing. 

I am so sad right now, I can’t even describe.  Tears flowing, because if he still choose to leave tomorrow, I can no longer be in his life.  A dearly beloved friend,.  Someone who I have taken care of, defended, protected for 14 years.  And if he chooses this.  I have to say good-by. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, November 09, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

Funny how life is

After I wrote my blog this morning, I went into the kitchen and made Breakfast Mash.  (It’s an invention of mine and is one of my favorite breakfasts) I can only make it on weekends and Pro-D days (no school) because it has several steps and takes a while to cook.  (I’ll post the recipe sometime soon.) Anyway, Will came down to breakfast, “Um, smells good!” Which is always something a mother likes to hear. 

We sat down around the table and Will said, “I was wondering if I could practice driving and then get a haircut and go by the video store?”
“Sure,” I said, trying to act casual, but my heart is singing.  My son wants to spend time with me!  “That would be great. First I have to bring a tray down to ____ and then we can go.”

After we eat, I fly around the kitchen making sugar-free hot chocolate, an English muffin to go with the Breakfast Mash.  I bring it down stairs.  He doesn’t like it.  It’s funny, he’s trying to pretend it’s okay, but when he takes a little bite, his mouth screws up like he’s nibbling on a chewy, squirming slug. 
“You don’t like it?” I say.
“Um...” he pauses, face wrinkled in consternation.  “It’s… um...”
“It’s made up of everything you like.  Eggs, potatoes, bacon, Parmesan and cheddar cheese, rosemary, spices.  It’s good.  It’s one of my favorite breakfasts ever.”
“But it’s all mixed up...”
“Yeah, that’s why I call it Breakfast Mash.”
“It’s too complex, “ he says.  He pauses, then continues manfully, “But if it’s important to you, I’ll eat it.”
“Nah, that’s okay.  Would you rather have your plain yogurt and all bran?”
“Yes, please,” he says happily, handing me the delicious plate of Breakfast Mash back. 
I couldn’t help but laugh as I spooned up the gloop that he likes to eat.

And then I handing the baton over to Don and Will and I went out into the rainy foggy day.  We had a real nice time.  3 1/2 hours, driving, chatting, doing errands.  A lovely day.  I don’t even care that I didn’t get my morning writing done.  Some things are more important.  Anyway, there is always tonight, or I can do double time tomorrow.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, November 08, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

last night

Last night, my husband and I tucked into bed.  You’d think, finally some time alone, that we’d fling ourselves at each other and make mad passionate love.  But the thing I found I was craving was conversation.  The safety of saying what was weighing on the heart, having it be heard, the good things as well and the niggling smallnesses that are present inside of everybody.  The blessings as well as the losses.

Obviously the recent change in our family structure came up.  But oddly enough, it didn’t dominate the conversation.  A touching on and acknowledgement was all that was required.  The thing that was really causing this sense on loss and (loneliness isn’t the right word, but it’s sort of partially that) is the absence of my boy, Will. 

I miss my other children, Emily and David, enormously.  The thing is Emily went away to University 5 years ago and David moved out 3.  I’ve gotten myself to the place were I understand that.  It is as it should be, I suppose, the children grow up, move on, out.  Sometimes, I have to say, I think the Italian way of things, staying with the family until one is married, would have it’s upside.  No one would think it was odd, because everybody else would be in the same situation.

But...(I was going to say ‘little Will” but he isn’t little anymore.  He’s 6’3” or 6’4.” You might think it odd that I don’t know my own son’s exact height but he refused to let me measure him after he hit 6’3” because he didn’t want to grow any taller.  I know he has, because I had to let his school pants out another inch, but I can’t give an exact height.) Anyway, the sense of loss last night was because I’m missing my boy, Will. 

“How can that be?” one might ask.  “Has he moved out?” “Is he in England visiting his dad?” The answer is no to both of these.  Although the phone call from his dad perhaps triggered it.  Confirming plane reservations to England for the holiday season.  And it’s important and wonderful that his dad has stayed so present in not only Will’s life, but the other children as well.  But ah, how I miss them when they aren’t home for the holiday season.  (Well, in my home, because he will be in his dad and L____’s home.  Tumbling with young children, which is for the summer and alternating Spring and Winter break, his home as well.

“It’s only November, Christmas break is a whole month and couple days away, how can you be missing him now?” See the thing is, Will wants to be an actor.  Right now, he’s not only rehearsing for the school play, but on alternate days, he’s rehearsing for the school musical as well.  So most nights he doesn’t call to be picked up from school until 7pm.  And they ordered dinner in, so we haven’t even have our family dinner together for the last little while.  And at breakfast, he’s pretty sleepy, hence not too talkative.  And he’s growing up so fast and the other two are already grown and now here he is only a year and a half left before he ventures out into the big outside world, to study at some drama school or another (by the way...he is very talented.) And he will be gone. 

It’s different once your children leave home.  You miss their faces, the sound of their breathing filling the house with life.  You miss making their favorite foods and the conversation.  The music.  I miss the music Emily would play, swirling around the kitchen.  And David with that basketball perpetually tucked under his arm.  You miss being involved in the day to day nuances and shifts of their lives.  But the thing is, with Will being 17, you know that distancing that always happens with teenagers, it’s normal, but my goodness is it hard.  Because I want to grab up and savor every last drop, I know what happens, I know this section of our lives isn’t forever, I know we only have a finite amount of time left as a family, living in this context.  And so that’s what I talked about, lying in my husband’s arms, last night.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, November 08, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

What now?

I’ve been so busy, too many things to do, and now I’m finally catching up, clearing things off my plate, my friend is stablized and doing well.  So now what?  It’s not like there’s nothing to do.  I could wade through the stack of paperwork and bills that acumulated while I was away.  I could prepare my little bit I’m supposed to do for Hycroft.  I have two manuscripts waiting in my cupboard for me to take them out, dust them off and see if I can carve anything worth while out of them. 

I guess this feeling of “what now” is because first I was in that dizzying place of book readings, being public and away from home and-will-people-take-Porcupine-into-their-hearts-or-not place.  And then was in 4-5 hours of sleep, emergency mode, and-by-the-way-finish-the-script place.  And then a couple days of settling my friend and getting used to a care-giver. (who is quite decent, but never mind, it is still quite hard to live, include, have wandering around your house, 24/7 someone that you don’t know.  Have nothing in common with.) I know it’s supposed to help.  And it does.  Not to have to decipher the complex medicines, times and dosages, the blood pressure machine, the blood sugar testing.  These are wonderful things and a great help. 

But the thing is, it feels like company 24/7.  I worry about the caregiver missing his wife and children.  That he is from a different culture and no matter what I cook, or how tasty it is, he is used to a different diet.  That my husband and I feel shy to cuddle on the sofa with a stranger sitting there.  Polite stilted conversation.  It’s different is all and will take some getting adjusted to.  It’s different than family and friends.  It really is.

I guess what I have to do is remind myself of all the blessings.  Yes it’s hard to have a stranger living with you, but thank god you do!  Because if you didn’t, that would mean that the jaunt to LA, the ICU etc, had a very different outcome.  One that would have stolen away one of your oldest and dearest friends.  Loss of privacy, loss of that total unwind “ah” feeling is a small price to pay.  I have to tell myself that after a few months of this, it will be old hat, and I won’t even remember how it was before.  And how lucky that we are in a position that we could afford to have someone manage his health care at home.  Many families are not so fortuate.  I can take care of my friend and still have the freedom to dash to the store and not worry that he might slip, or need something, or a million other things. 

So, what now?  I think I’ll dust Big Muckle off.  Work on that a bit.  It’s very different from my other books.  Kind of light hearted.  Yeah...I think that’s what I’ll do.  Makes me smile just thinking about it. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, November 06, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

hello blog-buddies!

Thank you for all the good wishes that I have received.  My friend is doing much better!  Thank heavens.  And I made delicious chili, with corn tortillas fried in butter, with sour cream and grated cheddar cheese for dinner and if that won’t lift one’s spirits up, nothing will.  I should have measured what I put in the chili so I could post it for you, but I was in too much of a hurry with finishing the screenplay and all.  Next time. 

You really wouldn’t believe the things I huck in there!  Fresh brewed coffee, a glop of molasses, cinnamon, nutmeg, along with all the savory usual stuff.  The problem with this particular dinner is my mouth is always hungrier than my stomach is.  They duke it out.  The mouth wins (the mouth always wins when I cook this) and then the stomach groans and is bloated for the rest of the night.  Why, I bet when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll still be full!  That’s how much I stuffed my face.

I’m full, but when it comes to important things, I don’t let fullness stop me.  I’m nibbling on a strawberry champagne truffle for dessert.  (I am sorry to inform you that we have finished the orange Buck fizz and are working on the second layer of Strawberry Champagne.  Alas.  It’s sort of like when you are on vacation and it’s the day before you have to leave, the end is in sight.) In a couple more days, these glorious truffles will be but a fond and distant memory.

The GREAT news is, I just sent off the Porcupine screenplay to Rosie, several hours before the 12:01 a.m. WGA strike deadline tonight.  Phew!  And I’m actually quite pleased with how it turned out.  It’s always hard to adapt one’s own book into a screenplay because in order to fit into the time frame and screenplay structure, you have to be quite ruthless and chop out huge hunks of it.  Much easier to do when it’s someone else’s child.

The nicest thing about sending the screenplay off is that tomorrow I’ll be able to answer all those emails that have backed up over the last week and are chomping at my conscience.  (If I forget anybody, please forgive me.) Hmmm… what else?  That’s it I think.  I’ll write a longer one tomorrow.

Oh!  I almost forgot!  I got an email from a lovely English editor (who was so supportive of Gemma when nobody else would touch it with a ten foot broom.  She wanted to do it, but her house wouldn’t let her.) Anyway, she’s at a new publishing house and has asked me to send her a packet with all my published books and a manuscript I’m working on.  I have to remember to do that tomorrow.  Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, November 04, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

an after thought…

Oh, and just in case anyone was wondering...yes, most of the fabulous truffles were still here when I got back.  Nestled in their fancy little round boxes with elegant writing.  Waiting for me.  This shows just how much I am loved, because when it comes to yummy things, Don generally doesn’t have much restraint.  He eats until things are gone...but he didn’t.  Don didn’t make a big deal out of it.  Didn’t even mention that he really wanted to gobble them up but decided not to, as an act of love for me.  Just ate a couple.  He probably doesn’t even know that I noticed.  But I did.  And it made me smile. 

Anyway, I ate 3 of them today.  An Orange Buck Fuzz, a Strawberry Champagne, and a Cranberry Port.  Took my time, tasted and savored every last morsel and let me tell you...they were good!

Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, November 02, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

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