Chewing the Fat

For those times that I want to blather on about whatever.

more mother hening

I read this little tidbit from a Financial Times article.  There was a lot more besides, but unless you are interested in that kind of stuff, it can be long and lugubrious.  But when I read this particular sentence it caused my stomach to drop. 

“MasterCard on Tuesday said first-quarter profits more than doubled to $447 million, or $3.38 per share, as US consumers put more expenses such as food and petrol on their cards.”

The reason I found it so scary was because that means that people are now going into even deeper debt just to put food on the table.  And with the financial world tightening credit, this seems to me to have the makings of a disaster waiting to explode. 

And then when I listened to the BNN interview with Don Coxe from BMO Financial Group, who specializes in commodities, I got even more worried.  He was talking about the precarious situation that we are in.  And said that unless we have great crops, and everything falls together and the weather cooperated, we could very well have a sustained food crisis in the coming year. 

He said that people might have to double the amount of money they use of their income on food. And that “If we have a crop failure, God help us.” He pointed out that this will effect everyone but the very rich, because food is not something that you can do without.

Anyway, I don’t know what the answer to this is, but again.  Just in case.  Don’t wait until it is on your doorstep.  Figure out now, what your family will need to do, if in fact our food bills double in the next year.  What can you do now, that would help you get safely through this?  Do you need to take on a part time job?  Is there anywhere you can cut back on expenses?  If so tuck that money away.  Or perhaps use it to buy a few staples that have a long shelf life. 

And if we have a bumper crop year?  Yay!  Then you will hopefully have extra funds to put away for a later date when you might need them. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, May 05, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

I’m tired…

The Dallas Stars and the San Jose Sharks are having the battle of the Titans.  It is very late, and we are still up, because they are now going to be going into the 4th overtime!  The fourth. Each overtime goes for twenty minutes unless someone scores.  The score is one-one and the goalies Marty Turco and Evgeni Nabokav have been playing amazing.

I’m still up, because this is a crazy game, and it’s one of those games where I can’t just pad upstairs and go to sleep, because apparently this marathon game is one of the most exciting games ever played.  And something as thrilling as this, needs company.  Don’s watching the game, and I’m watching Don and now I just got smart and brought my computer in the family room and am blogging to you. 

They have played the equivalent of two full games and the Dallas Stars have oxygen at their bench.  It is after 11 pm here and after 1 am there.  It’s going to be a little challenging to do the spring out of bed at 6:45 tomorrow morning to make breakfast and get Will off to school.  I wonder how many more overtimes there are going to be tonight? 

It’s gotten so that I am worrying for both teams. They are playing so hard and passionate, and the goalies are like super heroes.  It’s like I want someone to score so I can go to bed, and yet I don’t want anyone to score because I’ll feel bad for the team that lost because really, they both deserve to win. 

And you know what?  Best of all, no fighting!  The game is too crucial.  Nobody wants to take a penalty. 

Okay, the break is over.  We are going into the fourth overtime.  I don’t know what to wish for.  I’m pooped, I can’t even begin to imagine how tired the players must be. 

The camera crew is panning the crowd, a little boy, fast asleep, a couple staring in a zombie like fashion, her head resting on his shoulder.  Already both goalies have made another save.  This is crazy.  Marty Turco has made 60 saves!  Nabokav just made another body flinging save.  That is ridiculous goal tending.

Even the dogs have collapsed in exhaustion.  Molly went upstairs and put herself into her kennel and Scooter is snoozing in the armchair.  I’d like to be snoozing too.

Well, I don’t think I’ll keep blogging until someone wins, because like the game, this could turn into the longest blog in the world. 

Nite everybody.  I hope you don’t have hockey nuts for husbands and are sleeping comfy in your beds.  xo

Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, May 04, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

The house to myself

Will is better today, thank God.  So after his drum class, he and Don decided to race to the theater to see Iron Man.  I don’t know who was more excited. 

It’s nice having the house to myself.  I don’t feel lonely at all.  I guess it’s because I know this alone time isn’t a forever situation.  When the sun came out, the dogs started dancing at the door.  Wanting to go out and play, take advantage of the dawning Spring day.  We’ve had such bouts of weird weather, for such a long time.  It’s funny though, I had never really thought about it before, that the weather mattered to them as well.  But it does.  These two mutts we have are sunshine junkies.  So even they have abandoned the house to me.  I’ve opened the door a few times, in case they are tired of frolicking about, but they’ve showed no interest in returning.

Once Don and Will had headed out, I did the breakfast clean up, nice and leisurely, no rush.  The only thing waiting for me after that was my computer.  I put the waffle iron back away in the cupboard, cleared the table, wiped it, did the dishes.  Then I ate a piece of smoked cheddar cheese, made myself a cup of tea, cut myself off a hunk of chocolate and then disappeared into my writing room.

This re-write is not feeling like re-writes usually do.  It is much slower going.  More like the start of a new book.  I’m only a few pages in, but I’m still having to read back, re-work everything again and again.  A character who I hadn’t planned on including her POV, has insisted that I do.  This format that I am using is so different that anything I’ve ever done, and it’s difficult to know if it works or not.  If it still gets across what I want to?  Or if it is too removed?  And then, when I get on a roll, I find myself slipping back into a style that doesn’t work for this manuscript, but is what feels comfortable.  And so I have to rework it.  And then rework it again.  And then I wonder since the other is so easy, if maybe I’m not listening properly to what needs doing, and instead, trying to force it into a shape or idea I have instead of what it should be?

I don’t have any answers at this point.  I’m just showing up at the page, ready to work.  I don’t know whether this ultimately will work or not.  We’ll see.

I hope you all have a nice weekend.  I think I’m going to go outside for a while.  Take in a walk, the sunshine, breathe in the fresh air after being cloistered in my writing room for so long.  Stretch out the kinks.  Bye for now.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, May 03, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Hello

My boy Dave was here for a couple of days with his bud Derek.  They’d gone up to Oregon on a road trip saw some friends, mountain biked all over the place.  Swung by here to see the family.  And it was nice, having them in the house, so appreciative of home cooked food.  I baked up a storm, Don too.  My pants are feeling a bit snug at the moment, but I don’t care.  It was lovely having David home.  I wish Will had been feeling better.  Felt bad that he was sick.  He loves it when David and/or Emily come home. 

I wrote again today.  I was scared to go in.  Scared that I wouldn’t be able to accomplish what I think this manuscript needs.  Still don’t know if I can, but I’m glad that I made myself sit down at the page.  Slow going in the beginning.  Working for a long time, only able to eek out two and a half pages.  But two and a half pages is better than no pages.  And I feel real good that I faced my fears.  That I went in, even though I was tired and wanted to go to bed. 

Good, bad or indifferent, I went in, sat down, turned my computer on, and tried to write.  And you know what, that’s an accomplishment in itself.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, May 01, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Back in the writing

I started the sixth draft of the manuscript that used to be called The Big Muckle today.  It used to be in first person.  I am trying this go around not only in third person, but with several different POV.  I’ve decided to resurrect the ex-husband from the dead, and a zillions other things. 

Who knows how it will all play out?  But it feels like it’s worth a try.

It’s an exciting, daunting, scary feeling.  I was hoping that I’d be able to use huge hunks of the old manuscript and just change it from first person to third, but the whole approach to the material is different this time, and it is doubtful I’ll be able to lift much, if anything. 

If I had known it, before I dove in today, would I have decided to go forward with attempting another rewrite?  I don’t know.  But now I am in it and there is no going back.  We’ll see what happens. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, April 30, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Blog entry deleted

This used to be a blog about why I decided not to do that movie.  It was very funny, but someone read it, and you know what I was saying about an over-inflated ego and control-freak tendencies.  Well...I’ll let you figure out what happened. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, April 30, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Poor Will

I got a call from the school around 9:15 this morning.  Will was sick and needed to be picked up.  He didn’t eat a lot of breakfast this morning, I figured it was because we had a huge dinner last night and he was still full.  Only had one boiled egg, one English muffin, one slice of bacon and two or three pieces of fresh pineapple. 

Now some people might be reading this and saying to themselves, that is a HUGE breakfast, but believe me, for a 6’3” teenage boy, that is small.

I pulled up to the school and he came out.  I knew by the way he was walking that it was not good. 

And it hasn’t been.  He hasn’t been this sick since he was seven.  All the color drained out of his face.  And then once we were home and the sickness set in even more, his face got even more pale, which I could have swore wouldn’t have been possible.  Thank God he’s listening to me about drinking fluids.  I’ve been trying to mix it up with all kinds of options.  De-hydration is the biggest concern with a bad flu.  I’ve been giving him chicken broth, Gatorade, water, soda crackers, and home-made iced tea.  Food is impossible. 

Around two hours ago, his eyes got glittery and the fever set in. 

I hope he’s better soon. 

He’s so polite when he’s sick.  He’s always been that way.  Some people get mean and grouchy when they are sick.  I suppose it’s because they are scared, but not Will.  The worse his sickness hits him, the sweeter and politer he gets.  All, yes please, and thank you, and no thank you, I’m fine.  Sick as a dog and as good as a saint.  That’s my Will for you. 

Will continue to check on him through the night.  Got my fingers crossed that tomorrow he wakes up with some color in his face.  Make sure you wash your hands everyone, lots of soap and water.  This is a really bad flu.  You don’t want to get it.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, April 29, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

shifting gears

So sleepy today.  Went to bed so late and then woke up at 6 AM.  Couldn’t fall back into my sleep wave so I went downstairs and read the character info my sister sent me and then got inspired to start working on my own. 

I’ve never done an improv movie.  Actually, I didn’t know such a thing exists.  Not quite sure how the whole thing works.  I guess I’ll find out as we go along. 

Hard to believe that I’m going to be in Cannes in around two weeks, hanging out with Jenny, acting.  It’s weird.  A mix of feelings.  Been so long since I’ve done this kind of stuff.  Not sure how I feel.  On one hand, I’m excited to spend the time with Jenny, free-falling into the work. 

On the other hand, it’s all very well to be content with being forty-eight years old and all that goes with it, but do I really want it to be documented, photographed and blown up to the gargantuan size that is required to fill a movie screen?  What forty-eight year old woman in her right mind would be jumping up and down saying ”Yes!” ?

Not only that, but will I be able to fly along at the same rate as the other actors, none of whom have taken a fourteen year hiatus?  Many of them have done these improv movies before with the director. 

And how does this whole, no concrete script, no written dialogue thing work?  Even though it seems to me, that there is a freedom in it, because the camera is just rolling and the scene unfolds however it does.  There is a sense that maybe the character will feel more like it is mine.  Rather than a chess piece being moved about.  But it’s an odd feeling too.  I am so used to finding clues about the back-story from the script.  With this project, each person writes their own back-story. 

And then I wonder, since they don’t know what they are going to have until it comes out of everybody’s mouths, how will they know how to cover it?  Will they be able to cut it?  And then I think, It’s none of your business, Meg.  And I try to let it go.

I called my old acting agent, Ilene, today, and we talked about the logistics, when they needed me, where I would be staying, and it was wonderful to hear her voice, to be chatting like old times and at the same time, it was sort of strange too, how there is the familiarity and yet a huge hunk of time has passed.  Everything the same, but different.

What an interesting life I have.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, April 27, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

I didn’t win but…

I had a damned good time!  The food was better than edible.  I have never been to a big banquet dinner where I actually ate the food.  Not only that, I didn’t know that I knew so many people.  It’s going to sound weird, it’s a hard feeling to explain, but it felt like I was beginning to be part of this writing community.  Seriously.  People kept coming by and saying hello, giving me hugs, and it didn’t stop after the prize was handed to someone else.  If anything, I had an even better time. 

Christianne whooping and hollering her hands clapping wide and big over her head when my name was announced and I had to stand up.  (I’m grinning at my computer right now remembering it.) Her fierce hug afterwards and her note that I read when I got home and washed my face.

The white rose that was pinned to my dress, so everyone would know that I was a nominee.  It felt special. 

The bagpiper who walked with a bent-kneed-glide and led the procession of the Lieutenant Governor and the other dignitaries that were there.

Rita Wong won the poetry prize for her poetry collection Forage. And I am so happy for her.  We spent the last week on the book tour and if I could have chosen anyone to win something, it would have been her.  Not just because her poetry rocks, but because of everything she is, how she walks in the world, the straight forward, pure truth that surrounds her. 

Karen was there, and James too.  And a lovely man in a velvet jacket and a kilt said such sweet things to me, and he had such kind eyes, and I enjoyed talking with him and wished I knew him better so I could ask him if the rumors about what was, or wasn’t under the kilt were true. 

Another man in a green shirt and a dark blue blazer introduced himself and told me how much he loved Gemma.  That it was a hard, but important book.  And when he said this and other things too, my eyes filled up, because Gemma is my child that nobody wanted, and that he saw her beauty, said these things to me, moved me deeply. 

Several of my favorite booksellers came by and said hello.  It was cozy.  I wish I didn’t suck at names.  I remembered faces, incidents, conversations even, but I don’t remember the names.

And then when Robert Wiersema and Dennis Foon joined up with me and Don, well the conversation topics got a little out of hand, but I suppose I am to blame partly for that.  It’s fun being bad.  I haven’t laughed so much in quite a while. 

Robert is almost finished the first draft of his new novel, which is really exciting.  And he and his family are going on a very long cruise, which I hope will be exciting and action-packed in a good way, not the throwing-up variety.

It is one o’clock in the morning, and I should go to bed, but sleep is impossible.  I’m still too excited by the evening.  Tonight made me want to write.  But Don is waiting, patiently upstairs, so tomorrow. Tomorrow I write.  And hopefully, write well.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, April 26, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

I couldn’t have had a better morning

Good morning everybody.  It’s so nice to be home.  I woke up this morning and was so happy to be in my own bed.  Rolled over on my side and watched my husband sleep, his mouth slightly ajar, face peaceful.  He’s gotten some laugh lines in the seven years we’ve been together.  He might think they make him look old, but I love them.  It gives me comfort to see the creases spread out from the corners of his eyes.  Fanning out, almost reaching his temples, kissing his cheek bones.

It used to be, when we first got together, and I would watch him sleep, that I would get scared, because his face was so still, shut.  I couldn’t find any trace or proof that he loved me.  That he was still there, inside his body.

But this morning, watching him sleep, I could see proof positive of our life, our love, the hours we have spent together, laughing, worrying, loving. 

When he awoke, slow and sleepy, having to blink hard, once, twice, seeing me, the smile in his eyes and heart calling the laughter lines into full use.  We lay on our sides, me snuggled down facing him propped up on his elbow, and I talked and he listened like he was interested, like he really wanted to know, and I shared where I had been with him, stories of the places we’d gone, the people we met, conversations had. 

And when we were talked all out, and other things too, I put on my soft new robe that he had bought for me while I was away.  Let the dogs out and then returned to the kitchen and made chicken sausages and buttermilk waffles with the waffle iron that my friend Ilene gave me seventeen years ago.  A waffle iron that was her grandmother’s before she died.  And so thoughts of Ilene were with me as well as we ate the delicious breakfast and my boy said, “Um...tastes good.”

So happy to be home. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, April 26, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Home again

I just got home.  On the road all day, so blogging was impossible.  Going to go snuggle with my honey.  Will blog tomorrow. xo

Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, April 25, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

So much better

I had the best afternoon ever, visited a lovely school.  Smiling just thinking about it.  Anyway, I wrote all about it on the BC Book Tour blog, if you want to read about it.  One reading tonight, another one tomorrow morning and then we begin the long trek home.  It will be nice.  I’m going to buy a big free-range turkey and all the fixin’s and cook it up and eat it.  Yum! 

Either I’ll make it Sunday, or Don said something about Dave coming back next week?  I can’t remember because we didn’t get home until around midnight last night and my mind was mush by the time I had my good-night phone call with Don. 

We got back to the hotel so late because the mountain pass was very treacherous and ladened with thick fast falling snow.  It was touch and go whether we were going to make it at all.  It was hard to see the road at times, because along with the snow and the dark, there was also, fog. 

It was scary, but fun too.  We told ghost stories.  Real life ones.  Personal ones.  Bryan drove like the champion he is.  I was very impressed, but even more, I was thankful that it was not me at the wheel, skidding up and then down the highest mountain peak in B.C. in all that pounding thick snow, with the lives of four other people depending on him.  Very glad indeed.

(Thank you Ruth and Carolyn for your very sweet thoughtful, timely emails.  Yesterday’s episode is well and truly behind me.)

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, April 24, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Still on the road…

Hello,

I don’t know if you are reading them, but I’ve been posting blog on BC Book Tour’s blog as well as here and will be for the rest of this tour. 

I’m tired today.  A combination of being away from home and the loud music blaring in the Honky-tonk bar below me, that seems every night to push the ante just a little bit further.  The first night, the music and whoops and hollers subsided a little after ten.  Then next night it was around 11:10 PM when they turned it down.  LAST night, it was well after midnight!  Or at least that’s when I was able to fall asleep.  David (the author, not my son) said it went on way longer than that. 

Heather moved rooms to the other side of the building and up a floor, inadvertently giving up Internet access, which would have been worth it, but apparently on that side of the building someone had left a dog in a parked van and the dog howled and barked until the wee hours of the morning. 

No one, apparently, had a good night’s sleep.

“I was thinking what we should do is,” Heather said, eyes sparkling.  “Is march into the bar at midnight.”

“In our pajamas,” I put in.

“And do a reading,” she continued.  And the image it conjured up, couldn’t help but make us laugh.  Us doing our passion filled readings of literature, to a bunch of confused, bleary eyed drunks.  “That would clear the place for sure!” Heather said.  “Five minutes tops.”

I find I am missing the comfort of home.  My husband, my boy, Will, my pots and pans, having a fridge.  And to make the missing even more, my boy David arrived last night.  He had a couple of days off, and I’m not there. 

I made Don promise to stand on the stairs, like I do sometimes with my tall grown-up boy and give him a hug, tell him, “This is a hug from your mom.”

“Did you do it?” I asked Don last night on the phone, talking before I tried and failed to drift off to sleep.  “Did you give him the hug from me?”

“Yep,” Don said.

“Did you stand on the stairs so you were taller?  Did you tell him it was from me?”

“Yep,” Don said.

“Did he laugh?”

“Yep,” Don said.  And it made me happy.  Happy and sad too, because I wished I would have been able to make him laugh in person.

I woke up at ten after three AM, because I thought I felt Don touch my shoulder.  Thought he needed to talk, so I dragged myself out of my sleep wave to be there for him.  And then the room came into focus, and I felt so empty and tired and wanted to be back home, snug in my bed, with my Molly dog sleeping outside my door.

The male teacher at the school I read at today hated my guts.  I don’t even know this guy, but he had a whole story about me and who I was playing in his head.  He was a real asshole.  I wonder if his wife left him or something and I reminded him of her?  I was there for the kids, but he made it hard.  So glad I never have to see him again.  What an unpleasent person.  He really hurt my feelings and then in the van, I got mad.  He doesn’t deserve my anger.  I’m over it now.  But it’s people like that, that make people like me want to just stay home, and stop trying to help, give back.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, April 23, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

early morning

I woke up with the usual.  4:45 AM.  This is one of those times when I wish I had Internet in my room.  Am tempted to go out to my post in the hallway, so I can answer emails, browse the web, until sleep decides to return.  But then I’d have to get dressed, and getting out of my p.j. and into clothes, seems counter-sleep-productive somehow.  So, I am writing this blog on Word and then will post it later, when I am dressed and the rest of the world is awake.

There is something about this B.C Book Tour that reminds me of making movies, all those years ago.  I think it’s the brief spurts of actually doing (reading to people) what we came here to do, combined with the hours and hours of waiting. 

That sort of float-drifting.  In a strange town, hours to burn until the next event, too far away to go back to the hotel.  And so you wander.  Drink tea.  Eat a bit.  Find a café that has wireless.  Stay until the place closes.  Find another.  Being thrown in together with people that you don’t know, for long periods of time.

At first, you all have the writer thing in common.  Then it feels that you have nothing in common.  And then, as the facades fall away, you see the commonality again, but on a deeper, more human level. 

That being said, it’s odd to spend some 12 or so hours with a group of people, when usually, I spend perhaps a total of five hours a week with people other than Don and Will.  Huge hunks of alone time.  Just me and my thoughts and the page. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, April 22, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Oops!

Okay, so I just checked the blog to make sure I did everything right...I guess I didn’t!  That picture is GYMORMOUS!  And I don’t have the vaguest idea how to correct it. 

Well, I say brightly, it will help you get a better sense of the vastness of the snow.  Yeah, I did it on purpose.  (At least until I can sic Don on the problem. Don can fix anything.) Don honey, I need your help.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, April 21, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

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