Empty nest

We took Will to the airport Saturday night.  We got there early, checked in, ate some food, wandered, talked, ate some more.  We ambled into the airport bookstore (I’m not sure, but I think it was called The Great Canadian Bookstore) and THEY HAD PORCUPINE!  They had three of them.  Not only that, the woman who was working there said that it was a very good seller and they’ve had to reorder several times!  I was flabbergasted, because it isn’t a large bookstore by any means.  Not only did they have it, but a girl had pulled it out of the bookcase and was HOLDING it in her hand!  Eeee!  It was so exciting.  And she looked to be just the type of reader I wrote this book for.  I wanted to lurk about and see if she bought it, but I didn’t want to get disappointed if she didn’t.  Not only that, but upon discovering her with my book in her hand, I got the biggest smile on my face that just wouldn’t go away, but I didn’t want her to think I was an even odder person than I actually am, grinning at her from over the top of bookshelves.  So we left. 

Then my husband got the bright idea to check out the other bookstore in the domestic terminal.  So, we did.  AND THEY HAD PORCUPINE AS WELL!  Seven of them.  FACE OUT!  (For you non bookie people, that means the bookstore didn’t just slide the book into the bookshelf but they placed it facing outwards so everyone can see the beautiful cover.  And this usually means that someone in the bookstore not only has read, but LIKES the book and so they place it that way so people will buy it.)  And they had 7 copies!  Seven.  Wow.  They had the book in the adult section.  Which I think is great because adults really love this book.  So, I was happy that the bookstore did that. 

I never expected to find one of my books in an airport bookstore.  Never!  How exciting is that?  I was dancing around the airport on cloud nine, my husband and son smiling indulgently at me.  We walked by a fruit juice place and Will figured he could do with a peach and banana smoothie, so we got him one.  Don tangoed with the idea of a peanut butter, chocolate, banana one, but then he felt his stomach oozing over the waistline of his jeans and decided against it.  And then finally, alas, it was time for Will to go.

I tend to walk rather fast, but I made my feet slow down to a sedate pace to stretch out the time. 

We still arrived at the international departure gate. ( Sigh.)  There are hugs and “I love you”‘s all around.  “Safe trip, don’t forget to phone when you get in.“ 

I called out a few more, “I love you”‘s while he was in line and we were standing behind the blue and metal pole barricade.  Will tolerated it with good humor and grace.  Then, finally with a final wave, and me bleating “I love you, safe journey,“ one last time, Will disappeared around the opaque glass that encases the security area.  And immediately, I missed him.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, December 17, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

dreams

Yesterday was Will’s last day of school.  There was only a morning service and then they were released.  The car line up was enormous, with both the middle and the upper school getting out at the same time.  I kept turning my car engine off, in the long pauses.  Which was really quite pointless, because I drive a prius and the amount they pollute is minimal, not to mention, generally, in idle, the battery takes over.  But with the de-fogger going, I could hear the engine running and so I’d turn it off just in case.  It took me 22 minutes to get to the front of the line.  And there Will was, smiling, carrying the empty brownie pan from the day before.  There is something about the way my heart soars when I am out in public and see one of my children coming towards me, out of a crowd of strangers.  The familiarness of their stride, their faces.  The way Will folded his tall body into our small car.  Awkward and graceful all at once. 

His friend was over.  When his mum and little brother came by I fixed us a cup of tea and we ate some of my chocolate chip cookies (No special, secret Meg recipe.  Just look Toll house chocolate chip cookies up on line.  Follow the recipe and use chopped pecans for the nuts.  You don’t have to cook all the dough at once.  I’ve found with less kids in the house that it works best if I only cook a batch or two and put the rest of the dough in the fridge for later.  In my opinion, cookies are always best served right out of the oven and warm.)

Then Will was meeting friends at the movies, so we dropped him off downtown, did a little shopping, had an early dinner.  Splurged on lobster!  Yum.  I asked for a little fresh garlic and salt.  Then I seasoned the warm melted butter just so, added a little lemon and gobbled my very delicious dinner up.  I even had cheesecake for dessert.

The only thing was, I didn’t write.  I used the excuse that the day was too broken up.  That Will was leaving soon.  There was other stuff too.  Stuff that I don’t want to write about anymore here on the blog.  I’ve given that whole situation way too much space.  On my blog, in my life.  I’m am working hard on letting go.  Trying not to worry.  It’s out of my hands.  But my mind takes over sometimes if I’m not vigilant.  (Like right now, for instance) 

Anyway, I had plenty of good excuses not to write and I used them all. 

We talked, watched the tivoed Biggest Loser from last week.  Next Tuesday is the last show.  My husband always cries when the people are revealed, happy and smiling, having made such enormous changes in their lives.  It’s very sweet.

Then we went to bed, to sleep.  I had another bad dream.  There was something in my hair.  Stuck to a tiny strand of hair.  I pulled it out.  It was a lice egg.  Then I pulled out another and another.  Then I saw my boy, flop on the sofa in the family room, relaxed, his head falling back, because he’s comfortable and I realize that he is probably contaminated too.  That the whole house, all the soft furniture, the blankets, the bedding, the clothes, they all must be cleansed.  That I need to be thorough.  Even though it’s hard work.  Because the alternative is a disaster. If I leave, miss even one little egg, it will hatch and multiply and spread until it effects not only us, our family, but everybody that comes in contact with us, and they will be infected too.

I woke up, shaken, sad.  Knowing what I must do, but too tired to want to face it.  Don snoring softly beside me asleep.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, December 15, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

getting on with it

Okay, after all that whinging, I walked into the kitchen, poured myself a nice glass of Bakery Hill Cabernet Sauvignon, came back to my desk and filled out that dumb form.  And once I finished, it wasn’t so dumb.  Actually, I’m glad the publicity department is on the ball and wants to help promote the book.  Much better than the alternative. 

It’s funny how the dread of something can run your life, but if you just say, “Okay, this is hanging over my head, now I could put it off for a few days or a couple of weeks or even months if I’m talented.“  But then, you see, for those days or weeks or months, that thing you had to do would own you.  It would taint everything.  And the longer you put the chore off, the bigger it becomes. 

It’s sort of like the dinner clean up.  The worst messes are always the ones that make me want to run from the room and go do something, anything but wash and put away those dishes.  BUT if you wait, the leftovers on the plates and silverware and pots and pans, hardens and congeals and becomes a powerful cement that is virtually impossible to wash.  It will take you 2 hours to scrub what would have taken 30 minutes. 

Much better, even though it’s difficult, to do yucky things right away.  Get them over with.  Off your back.  Much better. 

Okay, I have to go get the chocolate chip cookies out of the oven.  Bye.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, December 13, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

the business side of things…sigh.

I just received an email from the publishing house that I wrote the reluctant reader for.  A long form to fill out.  Many pages of questions requiring details, facts. New photos are wanted with strict requirements and instructions.  A request for media contacts and so on.  And when I opened this email up and read it, I wanted to crawl in bed and pull the covers over my head.  The idea of starting all of this “being out there” all over again, when I feel like it was only this week that I started settling, letting go of the chaos that has been the last few months.  Trying to tell myself that it’s okay to relax, let go, settle in myself, my body, my home. 

I was really surprised to tell you the truth.  It’s a short little reluctant reader, for goodness sakes.  People don’t go on the road for them.  Do they?  I thought I was off the hook for next year.  A few Porcupine things I’d promised to do.  A visit to my daughter.  A vacation perhaps. 

There’s something about forms that overwhelm me.  And this one, looking at it, is going to take at least two or three days to compile.  And it’s Christmas and I don’t want to take the time off of Big Muckle.  I’ve just finally started to get a real good writing rhythm going.  I wonder if they’d mind if I waited until I finished this draft?  Probably. 

Phooey…

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, December 13, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

Christmas tree

We bought our Christmas tree today.  It was the fastest tree buying excursion I have ever been on. 

When we were little we would divide the family up into small groups, put on as many layers of clothes that we possibly could wear (and still be able to move our limbs) and then we would trudge out into the snow.  The cold winter air biting our faces, turning our cheeks and noses a rosy red.  We would hike for hours sometimes, all of us searching for the honor of choosing out the most beautiful Christmas tree ever seen. 

Once we found and agreed upon a tree, we would tie a bright ribbon around it so we wouldn’t get lost and the ribbon could be seen from far away.  Then we would race back home, full of giggles and excitement, our hearts exploding with joy.  So certain were we that our tree would certainly be the most beautiful tree of all. 

Then the whole family would go out with the saw and we would look at the trees and choose the best.  That part wasn’t as much fun.  There was some arguing.  It was hard to agree.  Some family members liked big bushy trees with an abundance of branches.  Others like the wispy ones.  The Charlie Brown Christmas looking ones, because they felt you could see the pretty Christmas ornaments better that way. 

Now me…of course I didn’t like the bushy ones or the sparse ones.  I liked the pretty ones, because I was no fool.  And the pretty ones were the trees with elegant draping arms, just right for showing off the fine ornaments and tinsel.  The ones that weren’t too bushy, or too sparse.  I like the trees that were beautiful and magical and everything a Christmas tree should be.  The one that whispered to me in excitement, “Look at me!  Choose me!  And all your Christmas dreams will come true!“

But they never chose my tree.  They never heard the whisper.  And I guess that’s why, some of our Christmases weren’t quite as happy as they could have been. 

But today, I didn’t have to tromp around the woods for hours, clambering up hillsides only to discover that what looked like the perfect tree had a big gaping hole at the back.  We drove to a Christmas tree lot, walked in, and there it was!  The most perfect tree! This never happens.  Even in a fancy Christmas tree lot you have to pull a lot of possible choices into a standing position, look at it from every angle, check out pretty much every tree in the place, until finally, you find the one.

Today, I walked right up to it.  It was towards the back of the lot.  It was the first one I touched and as I lay my hand on it, I got that magical feeling, and I knew.  I knew, but I was holding my breath too.  “Could you hold it honey?“  I asked Don.  “I want to see what it looks like.“  And I stepped back, and it was the happiest feeling.  The tree was perfect.  Just right.  And I knew in that moment, even though Emily and Will aren’t going to be here this year.  I knew that it would be a very nice Christmas and even though I’d be missing them, my heart would have gladness too.  And I knew that we would have a nice time with our friends flying in from far off places.  And we would drink wine and eat yummy food and laugh and maybe even turn the music up loud and dance like we imagine we used to , when we were young.  And maybe I will be able to convince them to come out with me and wander our neighbourhood for an hour or so, singing old time Christmas carols and la..la..la in the parts where no one remembers the words.  And David will come, on Christmas Day with his friend, so there will be stockings, because Santa still likes to come, even though they are grown. 

Yes, I will miss Emily and Will, but there is always the phone, and our hearts will be connected, even if our hands aren’t. 

Much love, Meg
xo

Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, December 12, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

sometimes you have to step away…and eat chocolate.

Okay, this is writing time.  I am in my writing room.  I was working on my manuscript, but then I finished up the bit that I was working on yesterday and I’ve hit another large tangle.  This chapter is a bit more difficult to handle because I LOVED this chapter in the old draft.  It was one of, if not my very favorite chapter in the book.  But it doesn’t work anymore.  Doesn’t work at all.  The whole purpose this chapter served was to shine more light and understanding on a relationship and situation that no longer exist in this new draft. 

Sigh…

I have to take a breather.  I’m trying to hang on to a little of it, a smidgen.  I’ve cut a total of 6 pages out of a 8 1/2 page chapter.  I’ve got the other two and a half quivering on the chopping block.  I’m hoping I’ll be able to rework maybe a sentence or two, but I’ve got that sinking feeling in my stomach that I won’t. 

Sometimes, writing sucks. 

Anyway, I dealt with it by flinging myself from my desk, tearing into the kitchen and cutting in half and eating 6 halves of the fancy Thomas Haas Chocolates that we just picked up.  (I wanted to just eat them all.  Waistline be dammed.  Cram them into my despairing mouth, but I didn’t want my husband to miss out on any of the fancy flavors.  And since these are relatively new chocolates for us, I don’t know which ones he’s going to like the best.)  I am in such a desperate state with the loss of this beautifully written chapter that I would have eaten all of them if I wasn’t so fond of old Donalah.

And now here I am.  Taking a short breather.  Calming myself down to do what needs to be done.  Breath in.  Breath out.  Relax. 

Okay.  I’m off.  Back to the writing.  Wish me luck.  I’m going to need it.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, December 11, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

writing

I threw out a whole chapter today.  Just kept four sentences from the old chapter and those I re-wrote.  How can a whole chapter be worthless?  Not add anything of any value to the structure or the story?  How could I have thought that this manuscript was so great when I finished the first draft two years ago.  And thank God I put it away for a while.  It needed sooo much work.  How could I have been so blind?  There is so much there that is just not necessary.  So much dead wood.  So much to remove and discard.  And then, the next day, I go back to what I had worked on the day before and am stunned to see how much more needs fixing on this piece that I was finally able to leave alone the previous day, thinking that it was so much better, smoother.

I’m at that point with the manuscript were no matter how much I manage to get done, it doesn’t feel like enough.  And the little finger on my left hand and the thumb on my right hand are tired.  The little finger feels slightly bruised and the right thumb sore, like it might get a small blister if I keep abusing it in this way.  I must sit crooked in my chair that these two digits are getting more stressed than the others.  Actually, I just noticed, I am sitting crooked, my left foot tucked up under the thigh of my right leg.  My right foot, out to the side and resting on the floor.  Let me switch and see if it helps.

Okay, now I’ve got my right foot tucked under and my left foot on the floor.  And yes, my little finger and thumb are not quite so cranky, but my body is complaining because it isn’t used to being tucked up on this side. 

It’s like when my children were young.  I’d automatically carry them perched on my right hip.  I’d try to carry them on both sides equally so I wouldn’t get lopsided and get a crick in my neck, or throw my back out, but it was to no avail.  When ever my mind was occupied.  (Which was around 98% of the time)  up would fly my children, snuggled in tight on my right.

Well, my body is still feeling awkward with this position.  It’s weird how just switching can make such a difference in how my fingers are feeling.  Interesting.

Anyway, as I was saying, I’m at this point in my manuscript that even though I’m moving forward, pushing my way through pages, I feel like I’m standing still.  Like I’ve made no progress.  I just write and re-write and then re-write again.  Take yesterday, for example.  Yesterday I woke up with the realization that how I started the chapter before the chapter I had just finished after four days of work was off.  So, reluctantly, I went back, changed tossed out the old start, wrote a new one and then had to spend the entire days work, re-working the work that I’d just worked!  Yes, I know that is a confusing mouthful, but I’ve been re-writing too much, so I’m just going to leave it.  It’s okay if it doesn’t make sense to anyone.  It doesn’t have to.  It’s not a finished manuscript.  This is just a blog.  Wheeee!  I think that’s one of the glories of doing this.  It doesn’t have to fixed, smoothed, make sense.  There is something very liberating about that.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, December 10, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

Living dangerously aka/Black Cod with miso

Stephanie and Todd just left.  They arrived yesterday afternoon for the Sidney Crosby game… Okay, well, it wasn’t “The Sidney Crosby Game” per se.  Seeing as how he would have looked pretty ridiculous gliding up and down the ice by himself, slamming his body into the boards and dodging pretend opponents, darting in and out, weaving and bobbing and then scoring on an imaginary Luongo!  So, let me rephrase.  Stephanie and Todd arrived from Seattle to attend the Pittsburgh Penguins/Vancouver Canucks hockey game at which Sidney was playing. 

How does Meg know all this fancy information, one might ask?  Well…it would be a gross understatement to say that my husband is a wildly crazed Sidney Crosby Fan.  Do I need to say more?

I, by the way, was saved from having to attend the game ( I don’t like the fisticuffs) because my son, Will was singing in a Christmas concert with his school choir and of course I wanted to be there.  I watched beaming from the incredibly hard pew of the church where they were performing, and since I told the woman next to me that he was my son, both her, her husband and an elderly friend that might have been a father of some sort, watched and beamed proudly at my son too.  (They weren’t parents there for Will’s school choir.  They had come to hear the processional singers that the school got to perform with.)  So my son had a whole row of listeners proudly beaming at him.  Surrogate family for six songs.

Anyway, our friends arrived.  Came for the game, bearing gifts.  Thoughtful gifts!  Like really thoughtful.  I’m a horrible gift buyer.  I get all anxious, like whatever I get it’s going to be dumb or not fit or they will have no use for and it will clog up their cabinets and be an albatross around their neck.  I’m about as good at gift buying as I am a clothing shopper.  I have no idea.  It’s not that I don’t love the people that my gifts are so uninspired, it’s just that some people have some talents and some people have others.  Sigh.

On the rare occasion when I get corralled into entering a store with a family member or friend, I try to deal with that slight panicky claustrophobia that set in, by watching them closely, trying to figure out what they are going to like, holding up suggestions.  But what people like seems to change with the seasons, and what was a home-run last year is a oh-god-mom-never-in-a-million-years look this year.  It changes too fast.  I get overwhelmed in stores.  That’s why I avoid them.  Get in, buy what I have to.  Get out. 

Actually, that’s a lie.  My scenario is more like, walk in, look around, get overwhelmed, talk myself out of needing what I drove down for, by saying something like,  “Hey, these boots are only 7 years old, the soles aren’t worn through and no one can see that the tiny triangle of stretch elastic at the top is unraveling when you’re standing up.  And if they noticing that when you’re sitting down, well…Why are they looking at your feet anyway?  Your feet don’t talk.  If they are looking at your feet they must have a foot fetish and then that’s their problem to deal with not yours.“  And then I feel quite relieved to turn around and walk out of the store.  Quickly, I might add before, god forbid, someone asks me if I need some help!

Whoa!  I went way off topic there.  Back to the recipe.  I decided we are going to live dangerously my dear bloggers!  I am once again going to post a recipe that I have never tasted.  I am going to post it because Stephanie has impeccable taste and so I feel that if she says this is an amazing recipe, and since the salted chocolate caramels from Fran’s that she and Todd brought me from Seattle were yummy, this fish will be yummy too.

Nobu’s (and Stephanie and Todd’s too because they wrote it out and brought it!) Black cod w/Miso

1lb black cod (sable-fish)
1/4 cup white miso paste
1/4 cup sugar
2 tbsp. mirin

-Marinate for 24-72 hours.
- If the fish is sliced thick, bake for 5-8 minutes at 370 degrees. 
-Then broil fish, skin side down, as close to the broiler as you can get until done (around 7 minutes)
You can adjust the amount of sauce when cooking depending on what you like.  some places serve it very dry, we we like it “saucy”  Enjoy!
Love, Stephanie and Todd. (I put the love Stephanie and Todd part in, they didn’t write it on the recipe, and they don’t even know you bloggers like I feel I do, but it seems cozier this way.  So I went the “artistic licence” route and added it!

Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, December 09, 2007 in Recipes

Phew!

Well, I survived my day as the guest blogger on The Debutantes Ball!  Gasp…That was a LOT of questions.  I didn’t know what to expect.  I figured, yeah, sure, check back once or twice during the day.  Maybe there will be a question, maybe not.  I made Don promise that if there were no questions or comments that he would write one so that the debutantes wouldn’t be disappointed. 

Well, Don didn’t have to write one! 

There were so many interesting questions and comments.  I found myself talking about a wide variety of topics.  The problem was, no sooner did I answer one question when several more had popped up.  There was one point in the middle of the day where I started feeling panicky.  Like I wasn’t going to get to them all.  The questions were just going to keep pouring in until I drowned in them.  But I didn’t want to walk away from it, not answer because the people who took the trouble and time to write in might feel a little disappointed if I didn’t respond.  It was a bit of a challenge, because I had to work on my manuscript as well!  But I couldn’t go into my writing room for one long straight hunk because I’d feel the weight of the comments responsibility calling me.  I had to break my manuscript writing time into chunks.  I managed to get my pages done (thank goodness!) and keep up with the comments section, but I wasn’t able to accomplish anything else.  Towards the end of the day, my hands were pretty tired and my nose was buried in the dictionary because when I get tired, my ability to spell flies out of the window and my entire answer was underlined in red.  And I hate having to dig things up in the dictionary, because the reason you have to look the word up is because you can’t spell it.  And if you can’t spell it…how are you expected to look it up?! 

So, although I had fun, and enjoyed meeting my many readers on-line, I think I’m going to hold off on putting a Comments section on my website.  Otherwise I won’t have time for the rest of my life.  All the things I enjoy so much, cooking tasty treats, cuddling with my husband, going for a walk, romping with Molly, talking with my boys, my daughter, my friends, writing to them, thinking about life, watching the cloud formations, listening to the grass grow, reading and so on.

Thank you to everybody who wrote in.  It made for a hectic, but very exciting day!  xo

Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, December 07, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

good morning

Don and Will just went out the door for the trek to school and I decided, rather than to make my tea and go straight to my working on my manuscript that I would post a brief blog here first.  Normally I wouldn’t do this but I didn’t get around to blogging yesterday, and tomorrow I won’t be here as well.  If you find you are needing your daily dose you can find me at www.thedebutanteball.com.  I met Danielle Younge-Ullman (a real debutante, her first novel, Falling Under, is coming to a bookstore near you, Aug. 2008) at my Type book reading in Toronto.  She told me about the debutante’s blog and asked if I’d consider being a guest blogger for a day.  “Yeah sure,“ I’d said.  I wasn’t sure what a “guest blogger” was.  At that time I’d only been blogging for a month and a half myself.  (I’m much more experienced now with almost 3 months under my belt!)  Anyway, we set it for Dec. 6th.  Danielle sent me a bunch of questions.  I answered them.  She sent some more.  I answered them.  She sent a couple more….You get the drift. 

Anyway, with this guest-blogging thing, apparently not only do I answer Danielle’s questions, but if any of you out there have a burning question you’d like to ask me, (or just a regular one is fine too)  Tomorrow’s the day.  I’m supposed to check the site from time to time and respond to comments and what-not.  (Hopefully it’s not too hard to do.  I am a little electronically challenged.)  This is great actually, because Susie, (web designer extraordinarie) has mentioned several times that I really need a comments section on my website.  I’ve resisted.  Well, tomorrow I’ll get to to try comments out and see if it’s something that I’d like to do on a regular basis.  Probably not, but you never know.  When we first did my website I wasn’t planning on blogging, and look at me now!

Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, December 05, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

hello

Not much to write about today.  Feeling better.  Got a lovely email from Jenny. 

My writing was slow but steady.  It wasn’t one of those magical inspired days, but it wasn’t total crap either.  I slogged along and hope I got some good stuff.  But who knows?  Tomorrow when I read over it I might decide that I must abstain from even the comfort of a brandy cherry or two while writing.  I wonder how many one would have to eat in order to feel an effect?  Five?  Six?  The most I’ve eaten in a day is three and I felt perfectly fine. 

I just glanced up and saw the picture someone took of me and Emily on the set of The Two Jakes.  This is one of my favorite pictures of Emily and me.  It’s a large black and white photo that’s been blown up.  I’m wearing my Kitty Berman Courthouse outfit with one of those 40’s hats that is tipped so extremely that it looks like somebody slammed a large chocolate layer cake with no icing on it, to the side of my head and it stuck.  Little Emily’s wearing a cotton sun-dress and little white sandals.  She’s only four in the picture and is holding my hand, skipping/walking beside me, a smile of pure sunshine on her face.  Our bodies are leaned ever so slightly towards each other.  You can feel the bond.  My skirt is stretched taut, so I must have been hurrying to get to the set.  It was a lot of hurry up and wait with that scene, since most of the principal characters appeared in the courthouse scene.  My jacket is wrinkly around the arms and shoulders, so obviously the wardrobe department hadn’t gotten to me yet with the steamer.  Probably were waiting until the very last minute. 

I remember that day.  Such a crowded scene, hard to organize.  Complicated lighting.  It was difficult to get a bathroom break.  Finally, after what seemed like forever, the 1st A.D said I could go.  I remember sprinting to the bathroom.  I remember the sound of someone close on my heels.  I didn’t think much of it.  All I could focus on was getting to that bathroom, that was a good long gallop down a hall that seemed to go on forever.  I get in the bathroom stall.  Lock the door.  Coat the seat with toilet paper.  Manage, to get out of all that 40’s paraphernalia that Jack insisted that us women wear.  Try wiggling out of a skirt, a girdle, navigating 1940’s garters and hose, not to mention underwear.  Finally, collapsing on the seat, thankful that I was able to safely make it to a seating position without an accident.

When there is a “knock…knock…knock”  On the door of my bathroom stall.  “Miss Tilly…Miss Tilly…Knock…knock…knock.  Are you there?“ 

I freeze.  Everything freezes.  I have to go to the bathroom like there’s no tomorrow…but SOMEBODY is knocking on my door! 

I don’t say anything.  I am hoping this VERY RUDE person will go away. 

No such luck.  “KNOCK…KNOCK…KNOCK!“  Louder this time.  “Miss Tilly?  Is that you?  Could you please…“  There is a rattling of paper and THIS PERSON SLIDES A 8X10 photo of me under the stall along with a Sharpie.  “Miss Tilly?  That is you isn’t it?“

“NOT WHILE I’M GOING TO THE BATHROOM!“  I roar. 

There is a long silence.  A shuffling of feet.  “It will only take a…“

“OUT!“

There is another pause.  I feel the person outside of my bathroom stall deflate, but I really don’t care.  Enough is enough.  I am needed on set and I need to pee and there is no way I’m going to be able to do anything with this donkey in here.  I hear a sigh.  Then a hand appears and gathers up the the photo and Sharpie.  “Will…you sign it later.“

“Yes.“  I feel weary.  “Please go.“  Finally the person leaves.  I wait until I hear the door close behind them before I am able to unclench. 

Hmmm… Interesting.  I had no idea what I was going to blog today.  Certainly didn’t think I was going here.  Oh well.  I did.  Anyway, for those of you who think you’d like to be famous.  Think again.  Here’s a little taste of what you can expect and honestly…It’s not that fun. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, December 03, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

after shocks

Yesterday, I went from this sort of numb what-the-hell-happened-and-don’t-think-about-it-just-deal-with-the-details of letting go.  And found myself angry.  A serves-him-right-if-he-regrets-what-he’s-done kind of anger.  A cold F___ you kind of anger.  I am done, done, DONE! 

I slept a full uninterrupted night for the first time in a long time.  A deep exhausted sleep. 

When I awoke, the anger was still there, I continued the tirade of all the things I’d done for this friend, the sacrifices I’d made, the many times I spent at his side in the hospitals, in the doctors offices, nursing him back to health, bringing him food on a tray.  The countless times I put my life on hold to be there in times of trouble.  The endless lies he had told me, right to my face.  Promises broken, again and again. 

I woke up steaming mad and I was glad too!  That it was over.  The truth had been forced out, a choice had been made.  A choice that didn’t include me.
“I want to go on a vacation,“ I said. 
“What?“ My husband looked a little startled.  “A vacation?  Why?“  He hates traveling.  I’m not crazy about it myself.  Airports are such a hassle, and the packing and unpacking, paying an obscene amount of money to stay in a cracker box sized room at an expensive resort.  I pushed those thoughts out of my mind.
“Because we can,“ I said defiantly.  “This spring when Will goes away.  We don’t have ____ or his caregiver living with us anymore.  No meals to prepare.  No fresh squeezed sugar-free lemonade.  We can just up and go.  Stick the dogs in the kennel and take off.  Free as can be.  I’m glad!  I’m glad this happened.  I’m glad I know the truth.  I’ve got a whole future ahead, that looks very different than the one I was envisioning.  This is a good thing.  He did me a favor!  I’m glad he said goodbye!“

“Meg,“ Don said, softly.  His face serious.  “I know you’re trying to be brave, to be strong.“
“I’m not trying to be brave or strong,“ I said irritably.  “It’s how I feel.“
“But it’s okay to be sad,“ he said, like I hadn’t just snapped at him.  “Anybody would be hurt.  It’s understandable.  He was a surrogate father to you.  It hurts that one of your closest friends, knowing who you are, that you always tell the truth, and yet he chose not to believe you.  Chose not to believe the plain facts that any sane person could see.  Chose to shut his eyes.  Say goodbye.  It’s okay to grieve, Meg.  It’s a great loss for you.  And even though he was a pain in the ass sometimes, you’re going to miss him.“ 

And then he held me as all my bravado crumbled away and there was nothing left to do but bawl.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, December 02, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

new beginnings

Snow is falling.  The first snowfall of the year.  So peaceful.  I love how the whole world gets quieter when it snows.  Muffled, tucked in, hot chocolate and cozy beds.  It’s Saturday.  The house is still.  A gang of family and friends tumbled out of the door this morning, braving the snow to hop on the ferry to Vancouver Island to see Dave.  So it’s just me and Don and the two dogs.  I guess this is how it will be when Will’s grown and gone.  There’s a missing of course, but it’s nice to have all this time and space and no structure.  Maybe I’ll write after this blog.  Maybe I write later today, or tonight even.  I could stay up late, working on my manuscript until the wee hours of the morning, since there will be no alarm clock tomorrow, and only a hot breakfast to make if that’s what we choose.

It’s an interesting sensation after 23 years of diapers and night feedings and school sorrows and joys.  Years of teacher’s aiding and cookie baking, applying band-aids and wiping tears.  Birthdays and pinatas and rented pony rides.  I could get all morose.  Missing it all.  But what’s the point?  I have to find what I like in this solitude.  The blessings, the hidden joys and pleasures, because children grow up, leave home.  You can’t hold back the wind.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, December 01, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

So proud!

We just came back from the final show. 

Will was MAGNIFICENT!  He nailed the bread scene, the ending.  So proud.  Words can’t even describe the feeling inside.  Watching him learn how to fly.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, November 30, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

Yay!  My Christmas cherries have arrived!

For those of you who love liquor chocolates, you have to try Bernard Callebaut brandy cherries!  I, and hordes of others wait all year for these tasty treats.  They are soooooo good!  What it is is a B.C. cherry that has been soaked in brandy and then hand dipped in Callebaut chocolate which is wonderful chocolate.  And I have to confess…I buy huge slabs of it at Whole Foods and lay it out on the chopping board with a big butcher knife in the kitchen and when ever someone walks by they can hack off a chunk.  Yum.  But as good as the chocolate is, their brandy Christmas cherries are even better!  I don’t know what their website is, but if you type Bernard Callebaut into Google it will come up and then click on Seasonal and THEN click on cherries.  They look so pretty too.  The cherries are individually wrapped in pretty red tinfoil with the chocolate covered stem sticking out and are packed in a sort of bronze box tied up with a gold curly ribbon. 

The only reason I can describe the box with such accuracy is because…MY CHRISTMAS CHERRIES JUST ARRIVED!  Yahooeee!  And let me tell you, they are worth the year long wait.  The only thing you have to be careful of is to nibble around the pit.  And also, don’t bite into these babies, because it can be messy.  The brandy can slosh all the way down your arm if you aren’t careful.  You have to either stick the whole thing in your mouth and let the chocolate get soft and smooth in your mouth until the whole thing caves in and you get that explosion of cherry laced brandy.  Or you can nibble a little hole in the bottom on the chocolate and then sip the brandy out, and when it’s all gone then you can devour the chocolate and cherry inside. 

See!  Now not only have you found out about the most delicious liquor chocolates in the world…but now you have expert advice on how to eat them.  All compliments of yours truly.

Love, Meg
xo

p.s.  Again, it’s important for you to know that I don’t own stock in this company or know anybody who works here.  I just love their brandy Christmas cherries is all.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, November 29, 2007 in

Page 26 of 32 pages « First  <  24 25 26 27 28 >  Last »