Dawna reveals all…

Ta…dah…ta…dah…(this is a drum roll,)...ta…dah…ta…dah!  And now presenting…MY FRIEND DAWNA!

“One of the best things about my dear friend, Meg is that she always challenges me to step outside my comfort level.  Her joie de vivre and sense of adventure have been a wonderful gift that enriches my life.  On many occasions I feel like she’s the Lucy and I’m the Ethel!  My first massage is a prime example of one of our escapades.

For Christmas my husband had given me a gift certificate for a massage.  Being rather prudish and tentative at the idea of someone actually seeing me naked and being paid to knead the various layers of excess fat on my body, I turned to Meg for reassurance.

“Don’t worry!“ she announced.  “I will take care of everything.  You are in good hands.“
Meg, far more experienced in the world of massage than myself announced,  “You must try the hot rock massage.  This is an excellent introduction into the world of massage.  It is a relaxing and low-key treatment that you will surely enjoy.  Leave everything to me.“

The idea of a hot rock massage appealed to me because no one was actually touching your body.  It was all done using basaltic rocks.  It all sounded rather clinical and proper.

The big day arrived and we when arrived at the spa, Meg had arranged for us to have rooms next to each other.  It was comforting to know she was there.  I removed my clothes (now soaked with nervous perspiration) and scurried under the sheets on the table.  The lights were dimmed and rain forest background music played softly in the background.  It surprised me that I was actually starting to relax.

Suddenly a vision appeared at the door.  Evidently this was to be my masseuse.  She began to wildly swoop around the room clanking two rocks together.  Down low to the floor and up to the ceiling.  “Release, release!“ she cried.  “Release spirits, release!“ 

Never having experienced a massage before I thought that maybe this was something routine that happened with massages.  Meg would never steer me wrong.  Nonetheless I pulled the sheets up higher under my chin wondering what would happen next.

After bits of rocks were inserted between all of my toes, a larger boulder was placed on my stomach.  I was instructed that this location was the center of my consciousness and I should “release”.  I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to confess to something, have some kind of bodily function or what.  It was hard to do much of anything as the rock had fallen off my stomach and was pressing on my bladder.  I had other things on my mind.  Furthermore the sheet had slipped during all of these contortions and I was dangerously close to losing all coverage.

I kept thinking about Meg in the next room.  I had always known she was more adventurous than I was and wondered if this was just another day at the spa for her.  I was beginning to scan the room for the Candid Camera.

After a seeming eternity the massage concluded with a final clanging of rocks.  I scampered off the massage table and was dressed in no time flat.  I bolted from the room and met Meg in the hallway.  I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to her.  She was such a good friend and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or ruin the feeling of tranquility that she may be experiencing.  I decided to say nothing.  Meg was unusually quiet herself.

It wasn’t until we had walked two city blocks that the silence was broken with hysterical laughter.  She had thought the whole thing was as weird as I did and was worried that I would never speak to her again!  Evidently we must have gotten a different hot rock massage than she usually had.  She was mortified!

It’s wonderful to have a friend you can really laugh with even after you have had a hot rock massage!  Since then I have had other massages but whenever I climb onto the table I can’t help but chuckle and think of Meg.“

AND THAT is my friend Dawna!

Oh, and for all of you nervous souls out there, do not let this deter you from attempting a Hot Rock Massage.  When done well, with out a great thumping of rocks upon rock and shrieks of “release all…(fill in the blanks, because apparently at this particular place we were supposed to release everything)  a Hot Rocks Massage can be truly wonderful. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, February 21, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

typing in bed

I’m over at the Island sleeping at my friend Dawna’s house.  (Yes, Bob her husband lives here too, as well as her son.)  I just say Dawna’s house to situate my long-time bloggers.  This is the Dawna of the-I-miss-my-female-friends-blog around a month back.  You know, when I was stressing about trying to start up new friendships and how awkward I feel sometimes.  Well, Dawna is one of my long-term dearest friends.  There is little about my life that Dawna doesn’t know.

I’m staying at her/their house for two nights because I have a few school visits.  Claremont tomorrow and Stelly’s on Friday. 

ANYWAY, the good news is, I’ve talked Dawna into being a guest blogger tomorrow.  She is very nervous, which makes the whole idea of it even MORE fun!  Sometimes, I feel like we’re an old sitcom show, where I talk her into something crazy because I think she’ll like it, or sometimes just to see the expression on her face and then the laughter that follows.  She’s the type of person who is staunchly there through thick and thin.  She is the best type of friend.  And now I’ve talked her into being a guest blogger.  I was very persuasive.  I told her how liberating and fun it is.  We shall see.  I told her the same thing when I convinced her to get her first massage.  Hmmm…someday I’ll tell you that story. 

I’m not going to tell you about any of the really good romps because that will give her a huge pallet of things to choose from.  And who knows?  I told her it is perfectly fine to write, “Hello.  It’s Dawna.  Good-bye.“

We shall see.  We shall see.  I have to go now, because Don is going to be Skyping me any minute.  (I misspelled that didn’t I?)

Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, February 20, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

living it up at the Lyceum

When I left the Lyceum last night I had a feeling that I was forgetting something important.  So much so that I stopped just outside the building and looked down at my empty hands.  “You’re forgetting something, Meg.“ I said out loud.  But still I couldn’t remember what it was.  I had my purse, my car keys, my coat.  I figured it must be the stack of Try and Stop Me/Lucky manuscripts that I had remembered to sign and return to the Lyceum.  It wasn’t until I was home and chatting on the phone, that it struck.  My beautiful puzzle!  Dabnabbit. 

Thank goodness Christianne will keep it safe for me until I am able to get over there again.  I’m planning on taking it to the frame shop and seeing if they can do a two sided frame.  I want to hang this puzzle that the Book Jackets made for me on my writing room wall.  And if the frame is two sided then sometimes I can have the beautiful, be-jewelled painted side facing me, and sometimes I can have the reverse side where they all autographed for posterity. 

Yvon and his Mom brought some kick-ass Mucklishiousness.  And Jenna, arrived with a zillion bowls of the best kind of penny candy, (which we devoured.)  After everybody alternately praised and critiqued TBM we played, Pictionary!  GASP!  Everybody.  Even me, who royally sucks at this kind of thing.  No matter.  We had some incredibly smart people around this table and they were able to guess my word “hallucinating” even though my brain picked that moment to turn to mush.  I am not good at this type of thing.

I remember when we shot The Big Chill, and we’d have these get-togethers and there would be food and music and conversation and then out would come the dreaded Trivial Pursuit.  It was a new game and oh my was I bad.  Everybody elses pieces were whizzing around the board as the rest of the cast gleefully got answer after answer right.  And there was me, stuck at Go/Start.  I am not exaggerating here my piece never moved.

I guess I could blame it on not growing up with TV and only being allowed to go to the Shakespeare Festival for movies.  That and we saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (a terrible disappointment) My Fair Lady (My favorite) and A Hard Day’s Night (I was very young and don’t remember much except it was a drive in black and white movie and the Beatles ran around a lot and screaming girls chased them.  And we also got to see The Yellow Submarine. 

I’m not sure if all the Buster Keaton movies that Mama would bring home from school with an old projector would count.  They were movies, but they were silent and we didn’t see them at a real movie theater.  We saw them on a white sheet that we pinned to the living room wall.

That was it, I think.  The total sum of my movie going experience growing up.  I remember babysitting once and Charlie’s Angels came on t.v.  I got really scared.  All those guns and plots to kill.  I had to turn it off.  Funny huh?

Anyway, maybe that’s why I sucked at Trivial Pursuit, but what’s my excuse for the other categories? 

But last night, at the Lyceum, Pictionary was fun.  Although when I got home and told Don about it, he said, “You talked?“ 

“Yeah,“ I said.  “How else would they know how to figure out what the ending was?  How would I manage ing?  I had to give them the hint that the ending had 3 letters.“

“Meg,“ Don said gravely.  “That’s cheating.  You aren’t allowed to talk.“

Well, sheesh!  I didn’t know that.  Maybe that’s why they figured out what mine was so fast.  I was talking through the whole thing.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, February 19, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

dancing in my dreams

I woke up from a most wonderful dream.  I used to have dancing dreams much more frequently.  Different ones than the one I had tonight.  I had ones where I soared, large jump combinations where I felt so light it was almost like I was flying.  I loved it when I was young, when I’d get that feeling of Ah…of lift, that airborne glorious feeling. 

As time has passed and there has been more and more years between the dancing years and the non-dancing ones, it’s like the inside heart has almost forgotten the why, and the what, and the reason behind all those hours trying to achieve, get closer to that rarely attainable perfection when everything just comes together and is, in that moment, perfect and harmonious.

I used to have these dreams quite frequently, after my accident, all those years ago, when I found out I could no longer be a dancer.  And the feeling of relief and joy to be dancing again, that freely, to have control over it, over pain, to create beauty.  And when I used to wake up, the sorrow and loss, would be so great that the tears wouldn’t stop for a very long time. 

And then gradually, the dancing dreams didn’t come so frequently.  Less and less they would appear, and when they would, I would have glimpses of that ah, that inhalation, that lightness, but only a second or two, like a slight breeze blowing a curtain aside for a second.  Just a second and then it would settle back into place. 

But tonight.  I had a glorious dancing dream.  It was different from any dancing dream I’ve ever had before.  I was on pointe.  Balanced.  I was actually better in this dream, more sure, than I ever was on pointe in life.  I was dancing with and using a tall chair, and it wasn’t a flying soaring dream, but there was such a quiet sure contentment.  Beautiful lines.  A knowledge and wonder that my body, not only remembered how to do these things but there was a stableness and a sure and simple ease.  My extensions went on forever.  There was none of that shakiness or fear that I would screw up or fall off my pointe and land on my butt.  Everything felt absolutely right.  Female, yet not in a showy way.  It was so beautiful.  And I wondered in the dream why I had never been able to dance like this before.  And I realized that it must be all those centering, balancing exercises that I’ve been doing in life.  And I didn’t realize that they would effect my dancing so much.  And I was filled with gratitude.  I woke up feeling blessed.

I lay in bed in the darkened house, the fog horn sounding off in the distance.  Still lingering in the dream.

I feel so lucky. 

Well, I’m going to go back to bed now, to try to get in another hour before the alarm clock goes and I have to get up and make breakfast.  It was just such a lovely feeling, that dream and so I wanted to write it down so I’d be able to remember it in the morning.

Much love.  I hope everybody is still nestled cozy in their beds.  Except of course for all of you bloggers on the other side of the globe.  And I hope you had a good sleep and even better dreams than me and are carousing around right now, having a fabulous time.  I’m always amazed when I wake up, to see how many people have visited here while I was sleeping.  It’s an odd thing having a blog.  It’s like a community of friends.  I don’t feel as lonely.  I don’t know what most of you look like, your hearts and your sorrows, we could walk past each other on the street and not even know it.  However the interesting thing is, I can feel you.  I hold you in my heart.  xo

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, February 19, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

oh darn!

I just wrote a huge long blog and lost it.  I hate it when that happens.  It’s only happened once before and both times I got off on a political rant.  I think it must be a sign. 

You poor bloggers already have to put up with menopausal moanings, financial mother-hen warnings, recipes and what-not.  I guess my blog guardian angel is saying, “No, Meg!  I won’t let you.“  Because anyone who knows me knows that I have quite strong feelings and views on things.  I try to keep a lid on it, because I feel that everybody is entitled to their own opinion.  That’s what makes up a democracy.  But sometimes when people have a polar opposite point of view about things that I care deeply about, I find it hard to catch my breath.  My heart starts beating really fast.  And I feel I have to speak out or I become part of the problem, but then that doesn’t solve anything.  And it’s hard for some people to look at the facts and so they get personal in their attacks and it’s not fun.  I learned that it’s best for me to just go along in my quiet life, following my gut.  Trying to educate myself to make an informed decision.  I do what I can and the I let the rest go.  I can’t fix the world.  No one can. 

I’m sorry I hit the wrong button and zoomp, the whole blog evaporated.  Other than the political bit that burst forth, it was quite a cozy blog about missing my daughter, the airport, the empty house, the dogs.  Mark and his wife with her mouth full of toothpaste.  Ah well.  I have to go do real writing now. 

Safe trip home Emily.  I love you.  xo

Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, February 18, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

quick hello

I’m enjoying my family enormously!  I’m finding it hard to blog right now.  Can’t settle down to it.  Just wanted to say, everything is fine.  Better than fine.  I’ll be back to a more regular blogging schedule on Monday, after I reluctantly put my dots on the plane.  xo

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, February 16, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Birthday

I am having a wonderful birthday!  My children are here.  I loved my presents.  We are going out to dinner.  And to top it all off…I DON’T HAVE CANCER!  WHOOHOO!  I’m so lucky. 

Happy Valentine’s Day everybody.  Love, Meg xxxooo

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, February 14, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Oh, and one more thing

When I started writing the last blog, I was planning on talking about the Teachers Conference, but I got side-tracked by my daughter’s message.  So this is just a quick thanks to Lucinda Tooker and Elaine Magus for inviting me.  Big Mike, thank you for your enthusiasm.  Margaret, thank you for your bravery.  And last but not least I wanted to thank Shari and Janice from Black Bond Books for lugging a ton of my books to the event and for setting up such a beautiful display.  It was much appreciated!

I have a ton more I could say about the day, but I shall save it for some other time, as my last blog was quite lengthy.  Bye now. 

MY KIDS ARE COMING TONIGHT!!!  YIPPEEEEEEE!

Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, February 13, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

I’m so excited!

I just came home from giving a couple of talks at the Maple Ridge Teachers Conference and there is a message on the answering machine.  “Um..Hello Mom, it’s Emily.  I just wanted to remind you that my plane is getting in at…“  Remind me?  Remind me!  I’ve just been counting down the days for the last month and a half.  Remind me?  Good gracious!  (I’m smiling big right now) 

Yes, my daughter, Emily is arriving tonight and my boy Dave is coming as well.  He managed to finagle a day off work.  I don’t know how he managed to get Valentine’s Day off, but he did and I’m happy.  I wish I could keep Will home from school!  Then I’d have all my chickadees home at once.  How cozy would that be. 

I’m very excited about tomorrow.  All except those little tests I have to go in for.  Other than that, I’m jumping up and down. 

It’s not that I’m worried about the tests.  These things usually turn out to be nothing.  It’s just that I am expected to drink 32 fluid ounces of water an hour before.  I’ve done this drill once before and I think it’s one of the most humiliatingly, difficult things to do.  It flings me right back to when I first started school and I didn’t know that if I needed to go to the bathroom all I had to do was put my hand up and ask to be excused.  I remember trying and trying to hold it.  I remember when it became impossible.  I remember the feeling of warmth and wet and the sound of it splashing on the floor, the puddle spreading and spreading under my desk.  I remember crying.  And then they took me to the office and I thought I was going to get a beating, but instead they got me some clean clothes out of a box and I put them on.  The tights were a little bit scratchy, but the dress was real pretty. 

I wonder if they have a spare set of clothes for any of us women who try and try to hold it and then find that we weren’t quite as strong or as in control as we thought? 

The last time I did this test, they were running late.  And as much as I wished I could squeeze-waddle up to the desk and demand on being next, I could not, because everybody else was in the same boat, sitting with tightly clenched legs, and sweating faces. 

I’m going to be soooo happy when the test is done.  SOOO happy.  Then I will be able to relax and celebrate my birthday and try to get in as many “I love you’s” and hugs and devour my children with my eyes.  Trickily of course.  I have to try and be restrained.  I don’t want to make them feel claustrophobic or that I still think they are little kids or anything. 

That’s the hard part when your children grow up.  You want to just grab them and hug them and cover their faces with a million kisses, but they are grown up now.  Not little kids.  I can’t tuck them up on my knee and read them stories.  They don’t want me to brush their hair and tie ribbons in it.  It’s hard sometimes to be the mum of grown up children.  Hard, but wonderful too.

My children are coming home tonight!!  YAY!

Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, February 13, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Another night at the Lyceum

I had a wonderful time with the Wormers book club.  It’s getting so that when I walk through the doors at Christianne’s Lyceum I feel like I’m coming home.  Maybe I should store a sleeping bag in the cupboard.  I love how the food for the snack break is always tied to the food mentioned in the manuscript.  Last night there were cold hot dogs!  Very funny.  They had other delicious things to eat for those of us who were not partial to cold slightly slimy hot dogs.  But I have to say, it did make me laugh. 

Chelsea and Mary from my beloved Book Jackets book club were helping out downstairs.  And we talked about Universities and graduation and I was all positive, but my heart was saying, Noooooo!  Because I can’t imagine the Lyceum when the Book Jackets are grown and gone.  A few of them didn’t come back this year because grade 12 requires so much work, with graduation and exams and University applications.  And I have to say, I totally understand, but I miss them.  I miss hearing Graham’s thoughtful comments, seeing Olivia’s intelligent face.  And now, this Spring when school gets out, the rest of them will be off too.  Exploring the world, testing the limits and going beyond.  And I feel blessed to have had the Book Jackets in my life, their influence in my work.  I never would have had the guts to put Gemma out there on my own if it hadn’t been for the Book Jackets and their parents enormous encouragement and support. 

And last night.  Two Book Jackets downstairs.  The memories of the others floating up.  A few Book Jacket parents with the younger siblings, around the table, familiar faces.  I don’t know how I got so lucky.

Christianne went around the long crowded table and everyone introduced them themselves and said which books of mine they’d read.  When Sandra said, “I’ve read GEMMA, SINGING SONGS, LUCKY, PORCUPINE and now THE BIG MUCKLE,“ counting them off on her fingers until her whole right hand was full, I suddenly felt profoundly moved, humbled.  Several people had read more than one of my books.  I felt seen.  Truly seen.  Known.

And that is just the icing on the cake.  I’m trying to re-name LUCKY.  At the end of the evening, on the way out Sandra handed me a sheet of paper, that she and her two boys Jake and Issac had been scribbling on.  It was filled with title ideas and I really like one.  So, until further notice, I’m going to be calling the LUCKY manuscript, TRY AND STOP ME.  Right now, I love the new title.  We’ll see how I feel in a couple of weeks.

Oh, and for those of you who are following the eyeglasses saga with baited breath, my talented husband Don did an entire house recce yesterday afternoon and came up triumphant bearing my no-longer-lost long range glasses and a smile.  He did it because he loves me.  Although, to be honest, I imagine the threat of having to drive me to the Lyceum, and sitting for two and a half hours while I babble on about my books might have had something to do with his mighty search.  And then of course the even bigger impetus.  Not only would he be stuck listening to me go on ad-nauseum, but ALSO, he would have had to miss his Monday-night-with-the-boys ball hockey get-together.  Now that’s motivation!

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, February 12, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

the best kind of tired

I woke up around three this morning.  The house dark and quiet.  Dreams again.  I couldn’t sleep, first unraveling the dream and then The Big Muckle was niggling at me.  Finally I put on Don’s robe and went downstairs.  I am so glad I did.  I’ve just finished a six hour marathon and I think I’ve fixed what was bothering me with Big Muckle.  I’m quite excited.  Although, right now, my fingers are typing a little slow and muddle headed.  It’s like I emerged from a dream and found out that I was exhausted because somehow while I was sleeping I ran a marathon as well. 

Don’s up and making breakfast, but after I eat, I think I shall have to crawl back in bed again and recover.  Thank god Will didn’t have school this morning because of Term break and I didn’t have to stop the flow.  I feel so good about these changes.  I feel very optimistic.

Bye for now.  Love, Meg xo

Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, February 11, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

A most excellent time!

The party/dance was so much fun!  I can’t believe all the effort they went to.  There were these three beautiful fringed tent/blanket things attached to the ceiling, they looked hand crafted from where I was sitting, and warmed up the small hall with color.  There were photos of the bookstore placed around the room, and a long table with fresh melons and large cold prawns with spicy cocktail sauce and birthday cake to celebrate the 10th anniversary of this wonderful independent bookstore (A 10th year anniversary might not seem like much to most of you, but in the present economic environment with which these Independent books stores are trying to operate under, 10 years and not bankrupt, is an amazing feat) This party was also to celebrate Lee’s (the honorable bookstore owner) birthday.  There was an open bar, and little tables set up with midnight table clothes and little candles and red foil wrapped cherry kisses.  There were black and white balloons with trailing streamers and The band Cold, Cold Heart was playing.  It was all music from my era, (and a little bit before) the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s and a little dash of the 80’s.  So I could sing along loudly because the melodies were familiar and I knew some of the words.

And get this…people actually DANCED!  The band started to play and a bunch of people got up and began to dance.  In my experience this rarely happens.  Usually people need to get good and sloshed before they leap up and gyrate on the dance floor.  So either everybody had been partying way before the party, or this was a room full of uninhibited, dance loving people.  (My guess is there was probably a bit of both) 

I had the best time.  Don is the most excellent husband a woman could have.  He is a rather shy sort, so when the band twanged it’s first guitar string, it was not in his nature to leap up and dash to the dance floor, however I turned to him and said, “Want to dance?“ 

First he swallowed hard and said, “Now?  You want to dance now?“ 

“Why not?“ I said jauntily.  “Lots of room, no need to worry about bumping into anybody.“

“Uh…okay…If you want.“

“Yay!“ I said, even though I knew he’d have rather hugged the side of the room for a while.  “Great, lets go.“  And I jumped up and the other couple who had plopped at our table, decided to dance as well, and out we went to the dance floor and within seconds the whole place was dancing. 

And you know what was really great?  The wide range of ages.  There were a few young kids, a sprinkling of people in their 20’ and 30’s, a handful in their 40’s (I fall in this category) and then a bigger bunch in their 50’s, a bit heavier weighted in their 60’s and then petering out to a medium sized sprinkling in their seventies and then there was this tiny little woman who had to be in her (possibly) late 80’s, kicking up her heels and dancing the night away. 

Me, with all my middle aged complaints was in the younger part of the equation.  And people danced all kinds of ways.  I dance a bit odd, but I wasn’t the only one by a large stretch.  I didn’t feel like a dancing weirdo freak at all.  I fit right in.  I stomped and twirled and jumped up and down, kicking my feet out in all directions, and Don didn’t mind that I like to dance goofy, dance to have fun, play.  It’s such a relief sometimes to just wiggle and shake and be all elbows and knees after all those years of containment and constraint and lightness and beauty as a ballet dancer.  I am the anti-graceful dancer now.  And I have to say, it’s WAY more fun!

There was one point when I indulged in a particularly extravagant whirl, and my eyes glasses (not the rhinestone wonders, I should be getting them this week) but my staid, mid-range glasses went flying off my face and landed on the stage.  Luckily they were right at the front of the stage so I was able to dance right over and pluck my glasses up and plop them back on my nose.  I thought Don was going to fall over he was laughing so hard.  But did that stop my gleeful dancing?  No!  I just made sure not to whip my head around quite so vigorously.  If nothing else, I’m a good problem solver, and my glasses remained safely perched on my nose for the rest of the night.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, February 10, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

hello

Hello, I’m out of town and am typing on my lap in the car, I’m parked outside of a school.  I hope this is legal, but in case it isn’t, I’m just going to say a quick hello.  I’ll blog more tomorrow.  I’m not sure what what I’ll blog about, that’s what is so fun about blogging.  I never know what’s going to come out of my fingers. 

Anyway, sorry this is short.  Have a great evening.  I’ve been invited to a dance at the community center here on this little island, so that will either be tons of fun, or a what-the-f___-was-I-thinking-to-have-agreed-to-come!  You know, one of those stiff smiled, yeah-this-is-great kind of evenings.  (I have my fingers crossed that it’s going to be a blast, all us older folks getting in touch with our inner boogie-woogie.)  The good thing is that this is the type of community where anything goes so I can dance as weird as I want and I’ll fit in just fine. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, February 09, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Best Morning Surprise Ever!

The most gorgeous painting ever arrived on my doorstep today.  I feel so lucky and blessed.  I am hanging in the family room, because that is where we spend the most time.  Just looking at this painting causes a celebration in my heart. 

It’s funny because today started like any other day.  I woke up and was schlepping around in my over-sized pink fluffy bathrobe that was a birthday gift two years back.  It is an extra large and can wrap around me twice, but it was the last one left in the store and it was so soft and comfy looking that I figured, who cares if it’s a little big?  I’ll look cute and tiny all snuggled up in it.  And so on my birthday wish list it went. 

Well, things that are way too big might seem like they’d make me look all cute and petite in my imagination, but the reality is something far different.  I drown in that bathrobe.  It is not a good look for me.  Not only that, but it doesn’t breathe.  And as any woman who is going through the throes of hot flashes knows, a robe that doesn’t breathe is not a good thing!  It’s the dead of winter and still this robe is too warm for me.  I find myself, more often than not, sneaking Don’s robe out of his closet and prancing around in that instead.

Anyway, I was a little slow getting myself out of bed and so once I managed to drag my tired body from the cozy-calling-to-me comfort, I didn’t have time to lollygag and put on a full set of clothes, so on went my pink robe, cinched at the waist and I flew down stairs to make some omelets and toast for breakfast.  We ate.  Don and Will left for school, and I just settled into check my emails when there was a knock at the door. 

Who is that?

I went to the door, peeked through the blinds.  A delivery man!  Could it be?  Is it possible?  I’ve been anticipating the arrival of a painting for a long time.  I knew it would be beautiful.  All the artwork I’ve seen on Rosie’s blog is.  But I didn’t know what had been sent, all I knew was “a large painting.“ 

I cracked the door open.  Two reasons.  The robe, and the dogs going delirious with excitement behind me.  “Can I help you?“ I asked, because maybe it’s the painting, but maybe it’s something else.  Legal documents or dry old boring paperwork.

“I have a painting,“ he says.  The guy’s hair is more white than grey.  He’s short, with a pointy beard. 

“Oh good,“ I say, as soon as the jolt of oh-my-goodness passes through my body and my lips work again.  “If you could just put it on the porch.“

“No way that’s going to happen,“ he snorts.  “This thing weighs 125 lbs.  Can’t manage it alone.“

“Oh…oh…“ I start hopping around.  “Oh dear.  Alright.  I’ll get my shoes.  Just a minute.“  I must have looked a sight.  Brown leather shoes, an enormous saggy pink robe, unbrushed hair (I say that like I brush my hair on a regular basis.  Ha!)  Somehow between the two of us we managed to stagger the large wooden crate/box to the top of the stairs.  I think it was one of those Herculean moments where a mother manages to lift a car off of her child.  That kind of thing, because that box was HEAVY! 

When he leaves I fly inside, get dressed and grab my screw driver and a hammer.  Those were long screws holding that box together!  There were a LOT of them.  I got cramps in my forearms and started to get blisters on my palms until I was clever and went inside and put on a pair of gloves.  But let me tell you.  When I got the crowbar part of my hammer under that lid and lifted the top off, and got the painting out…OH MY GOD!  I almost fainted!  It was THE painting.  The one I had seen a picture of and loved and wished that I had.  It was THAT one! 

I haven’t stopped smiling all day.  I am a very, very, VERY lucky woman!  An image of me just flashed through my head of me, leaping around, clicking my heels together, a-la-Gene Kelly in Dancing In the Rain.  That’s how happy I am inside.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, February 07, 2008 in

West Vancouver Secondary

I just came from a talk with a creative writing class at West Vancouver Secondary School.  They are working on Biography, so to encourage them to be brave with their writing, and to dive deep, I probably was way more candid than they wanted me to be. 

For example: I was answering a question about something and flipping through my book Singing Songs when it fell open to the chapter, Pooh Pie.  I figured it must be a sign.  “Oh,“ I said, gaily.  “I’m going to read you this.  It’s quite funny.“  I read Pooh Pie with gusto.  Those of you who have read Singing Songs, know the story and understand that it is generally not something that one brings up within 15 minutes of meeting a roomful of anybody, let alone teenagers. Poop Pie!  I don’t know what possessed me.  I normally avoid reading that piece out loud.  Not my most glamorous moment, by any stretch.  And then…I really don’t know what got into me, but when I was finished, I wiggled my fingers at them and said something like, “Oh yes…you had no idea what these hands have done!  Anyone want to shake hands?“  Very classy, Meg. 

Oh well, that’s what happens sometimes.  I guess because I’ve spent so much of my life, covering up, telling the public relations spin rather than the truth, it’s like now, with the Q&A portion of my talks, I never know where my answers are going to lead.  Let the inviter beware! 

Speaking of which, this is the second time I’ve visited Sarah’s class and yes, you can tell she is a good teacher, inspires her students, because they asked such smart questions.  Writerly ones.  And it’s wonderful thing for these teens that she is their teacher.  She is intelligent and passionate about writing, and I admire all these things but you know what I’m really envious about?  My god can that woman put together an outfit!  Two times I’ve met her.  Both times she was wearing this amazing eclectic mix of vintage/new/I-don’t-even-know-what-you-call-it, but I want to be able to dress like that.  Honest, we went into this room before it was time for the class, and she was talking and I zoned out for a minute because I was fantasizing about her whisking me off on a What-Not-to-Wear expedition, where she would teach me how it’s done.  Like she was wearing this great chunky necklace made out of these really cool looking stones, with these little dark accents in between, and the color of it went so great with her sweater.  And where did she find such a cute sweater with one little sparkly button at the neck?  And her dress looked to be one of those cool vintage dresses, and she had a little bit of a lace under thing where it veed down.  It’s like the whole thing was like a cool funky glass of water.  Every piece fit. 

I bet she writes really well too.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, February 06, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

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