I would never have predicted this: the World Series made me a baseball fan, however briefly. I flew to Toronto on Friday of Game Six of the World Series and was surrounded by fans wearing Blue Jays gear. The man seated beside me was heading straight to the game to meet friends and he was pretty much vibrating with excitement, sure this was it; the Jays would make history tonight.

I took a cab to Alison’s place and when I arrived, they were of course watching the game. Sure enough, I got totally into it and began peppering Jim with annoying questions. “Do they get to bat again?” “Why is he out?” and then the most important question of all that night, “How is that a wedged ball?? It was NOT wedged!”

We went to bed greatly disappointed by the results but were sure Game Seven would be a glorious victory. We had tickets to a great play that night, called Tell Tale Harbour, written and starring Alan Doyle of the Great Big Sea. As it ended and we left the theatre people were buzzing, “The Jays are ahead 3 to 1.” We drove home in great haste.

You all know how that night ended, not with a bang but a whimper. Though I know the basic rules of baseball, having played it at Osoyoos Elementary Junior High School, suddenly it was over and I went “What happened? That’s it? It ends like that??” Jim explained it always ends abruptly. I was shocked and also surprised at my own roller coaster ride over a baseball game. Who knew?

The rest of the visit contained less adrenaline and a lot of enjoyment. I saw two more plays, attended a performance by the National Ballet, went to the art gallery, drove to a fab consignment store where I bought two things, visited Allen Gardens which is a plant conservatory, walked the ravine to the Brick Works market, and went to divine restaurants for delicious food.

Because I was there during the Toronto International Authors Festival, Alison booked us into a talk by two memoir writers, Susan Swan and Catherine Bradbury. Of course I found this very inspirational. At the ballet Alison introduced me to her friend Roxana Spicer who wrote The Traitor’s Daughter, which is a memoir.

Alison said to Roxana, “Moni wrote a memoir.” This is like saying to Wolfgang Puck “Moni makes a nice fettucine al Fredo.” I immediately did the two palms up saying “um, well, mine is self-published on Amazon, so….” and Roxana could’ve been all snooty but instead she was magnanimous and kind.

She said she has a friend who’s a published author who decided to go the Amazon route because he was tired of having to flog his works to publishers all the time.  Roxana added there’s nothing wrong with self publishing. I left there feeling quite buoyed by this nice writer.

As soon as I got home it was back to the old routine and I quickly made bran muffins for mom, baked a cake and got groceries for Osoyoos. The dogs and I drove down and spent two nights as usual, however this time for the first time ever mom said, “I’m sure you must be glad to be driving away from this crazy place.” I of course then said “no, not at all”, thinking oh yeah….

But I myself am crazy so shouldn’t judge anyone else. Imagine me yesterday, proudly mailing off my passport application, only to remember the moment after I mailed it, I forgot to sign the photos.