Epic Sunday and other randomness

On Sunday morning I had a photo shoot with Terry Byrnes, which felt like a rite of passage for a Quebec writer.  (If you're not familiar with his work, you can read a little about it here.) It was so nice to meet him at last, and I’m very curious to see the results!

On Sunday afternoon, we officially moved over to our new apartment (i.e. slept over there), even though things are in shambles and we’re still missing a lot of important everyday items (curtains, coffee maker...). But I'm ecstatic, anyway. 
 
Then, on Sunday night, I had such a fun talk with a book club in Toronto.  Sadly, the connection wasn’t good enough to sustain a Skype chat (though we got a brief glimpse of each other!), so we chatted on the phone.  Thanks so much to those generous readers for inviting me in!  I loved hearing their smart insights into the novel, as well as other books their club has enjoyed over the years (note to self: read Colum McCann).  If only the snacks could have beamed through the phone, too...

I view this as major progress, by the way, that a day with two such semi-public-writer engagements didn’t totally undermine half of my week with anxiety leading up to either one.

In other bookish news, I also recently recorded an excerpt of Bone & Bread for Cityline, which you can listen to on their website here.  It’s about five minutes of me reading from the first chapter.   

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Last night I went to my first sewing class (led by the costume designer in my knitting group, mentioned before here).  I was more than a little afraid that I would be the worst one in the class (flashbacks of grade seven and grade eight home ec class!) and attending has done very little to allay those fears.  But I’m trying to hold on to some shred of misplaced confidence after sewing all those wedding banners last summer.  It is a little unfortunate, however, that accurate tracing and cutting in a straight line are among my two worst skills.

 Tracing my skirt-to-be

Other randomness:

Some pink corduroy pants I keep trying to get rid of somehow keep coming back into my life.  They’ve been given a leg up by the fire (they were in a bag in the car, and therefore smoke-free) and the unseasonably cold weather. Someone send me the strength to just stop wearing them.

I’ve been sleeping on a makeshift pillow composed of a pillowcase, a blanket, two sweatshirts, a zip-up fleece, and a towel.  I’ve finally smooshed it into exactly the right shape to be able to procrastinate on pillow purchasing for another week.

I’m desperate to sit down and read something, but these days are so busy it’s impossible to justify.  Even my lunch hour has its own list of errands.

I’ve been dreaming prolifically at our new apartment.  I’ve had more vivid dreams in the past four nights than I’ve had in as many months.