I’d all but forgotten that Robert Downey Jr.’s rise and fall (and rise and fall) (and rise) included a star turn on Ally McBeal in 2000, a role that resulted in a credible rendition of Joni Mitchell’s River.

The second season of the small town podcast has dropped:

In the second season of the small town podcast, host Monica Lacey conducted a series of interviews with artists who are based on Prince Edward Island. Each of the five episodes focuses on a different artistic discipline, bringing two artists together in conversation about their art practices. Featured artists: Somnia Lucent & Joe Millar, Patricia Bourque & Niyi Adeogun, Daniel MacDougall & Norma Jean Maclean, Reequal Smith & Megan Stewart, and Sarah Saunders & Sandi Hartling!

Yesterday I learned that the number of days I can go without posting here before kind-hearted readers reach out to inquire about my well-being is 7. 

This blog, it seems, on top of whatever else it might be, is also, as I wrote my (concerned) friend Dave, a sort of front porch light. When the light goes out, or flickers, the neighbours get concerned. 

I love that. And apologize for causing worry. 

For in truth, everything is peachy. To be able to write that, after the kind of years I’ve had of late, is a hard-fought achievement. 

The thing they don’t tell you in grief school is that after the dreadful fog of loss starts to recede, the road of “what the hell do I do now!?” rises up to greet you. 

At worst that’s paralyzing, and encourages facing inward, downward, into a cocoon of “okay, I’ve figured out eating and laundry, now I just grit my teeth and avoid sudden movements.” I’ve taken that tack, by times. 

But in February I decided to try facing outward and upward. I found a therapist of the “help me figure out what next” type, and started to, if not exactly come up with a plan, at least to sketch out the terrain. 

And that has been the grand adventure of this year, exploring that terrain.

It’s been hard. I’ve had high highs and low lows. Sleepless angsty nights. I’ve filled up a thick journal with my emotional wranglings. I’ve dealt with rejection, and shame, and emptiness. I’ve cried tears of sadness, and longer tears still when I’ve felt the deep sadness passing. But I’ve also enjoyed moments of true connection and beauty. And I’ve become more confident as I wander, venturing into new and unfamiliar corners.

My friend Peter wrote this today:

But there are lots of reasons to be hopeful. As Max Ehrmann’s epic poem Desiderata says: “…in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.” There is no end of broken dreams in our midst, with many recent reveries shattered by COVID, but it is indeed still a beautiful world. And PEI is a particularly special part of this beautiful world.

That is a good thing to be reminded of, and something I have found my way to on my own.

Many years ago my friend Tim, at a time when I’d just dropped out of college and was particularly angry and listless, told me that I was defining myself by what I wasn’t, not by what I might be. That was sage advice then, even more so now. And it’s what I’ve been trying to do.

So, yes, I am okay. 

On occasion my wanderings will take me away from this space; fear not, I shall always return. And I shall endeavour to send proof of life at least once a week if I end up at the end of a remote archipelago.

Never name your brigantine True Friend.

A fresh box of Using Her Marbles–the book I published last year chronicling the six years Catherine lived with metastatic breast cancer–arrived in the mail yesterday from the printer, and I’ve restocked The Bookmark with autographed copies, which you can pick up in person at the store, or via their online shop.

If you’d rather a e-book, I can help you there too.

Similar But Different : A Christmas Poem.

Noting for posterity that (a) we are expecting our first significant snowfall tonight and (b) my appointment to have my winter tires installed is tomorrow morning.

I might not know much, but I do know there are 1,440 minutes in a day. 86,400 seconds. Such are the things one commits to memory over a half a life in service to North America’s preeminent periodical concerned with matters of time and dates and the heavens.

If I ask a computer the time(), it will tell me the number of seconds that have passed since January 1, 1970 (don’t ask). As I write this number is 1638967256.

If I want to know what this number will be tomorrow morning at the same time I simply add 86,400 to it: 1639053656.

I can double check that by asking my computer to turn that into a human-readable date:

print strftime("%Y-%m-%d %H:%M", 1639053656);

To which it dutifully replies:

2021-12-09 08:40

But this isn’t a post about coding, it’s a post about how Beau Miles set out to plant 1,440 trees in a day.

In an unfortunate but understandable echo of last year, New Years levees have been advised against for Prince Edward Island.

I sent out this note to the unofficial list of levee organizers that I unofficially maintain to compile the unofficial list:

Hello Past New Year’s Levee Organizers,

With the announcement from Hon. Antoinette Perry that there will be no New Year’s Levee held at Government House on January 1, 2022, and advice against holding levees from the Chief Public Health Office this afternoon, I wanted to let you all know that I will not be maintaining a list of levees for New Year’s Day 2022.

Best wishes for 2022 regardless, and I hope to see you all back on the levee circuit in 2023.

Peter Rukavina
Keeper of the Unofficial List of Levees