My friend Cathy Gildiner graciously agreed to come to Willowbank to read in the salon today. It's a big deal for her to take a day to come down from Toronto because she's crazy busy what with being a bestselling author, columnist, clinical psychologist, broadcaster, rower ...
The salon looked lovely and everyone who came was bowled over by Cathy's wit and charm. I got so wrapped up in preparing coffee and goodies that I forgot I had to introduce her. I got totally flustered looking for my notes, ran up the stairs two at a time and could barely speak, I was so breathless. Oh well, after my performance Cathy was magnificent. If you get a chance read her hilarious memoir Too Close To The Falls or her new thriller, Seduction.
Cathy has always talked about how she is a stranger in her own kitchen. She can't cook (in fact I suspect she thinks that the stove is a big cigarette lighter). I saw her at Willowbank today with our president, Laura Dodson, another whirlwind of energy and accomplishment who cares naught for cooking and housework and it finally sunk in that these women are successful because they do not get ensnared in domestic minutiae. I, on the other hand, obsess over whether the kitchen floor is clean, whether books are placed on shelves (not only placed but arranged by topic or author), whether the weeds are taking over the perennial borders or whether there are too many pairs of size 12 clodhoppers cluttering the entryway; grocery shopping and meal preparation - don't even go there. I obsess, I don't necessarily spin through the house like a white tornado, but it eats up a lot of mental energy that I could otherwise be using to develop a cure for cancer (who am I kidding?). I'm caught in a Holly Housewife trap. If I chew off my Swiffer can I escape?
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