Proud of myself today, I hope you don’t mind if I boast a bit. It was the Cabbagetown Festival this weekend, and on Sunday morning it’s Blair’s Run, the fundraising mini-marathon, 2 k. through the ‘hood. I’ve done it most years, including, as I’ve boasted here before, long ago winning it once or twice by some miracle, largely because there was almost no one back then in my category — Senior Women, which they think is 55 and up! — and of course, I was younger and fitter.

Yesterday, I had such serious back pain, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to go, but this morning it was better so I did go, and I did run — and walk. I won nothing, but I did it. Over 350 people signed up this year, including many children. People run or walk with kids, dogs, strollers, in wheelchairs. It’s a wonderful community event for the C’town Youth Centre.

Then at home I finished the edit of an essay I’ve been working on for a few days about Paul McCartney, to tie in to his upcoming Canadian concerts in November. Sent it to a newspaper. I was inspired because my friend Margot at the Y told me she and her friends really enjoyed All My Loving, which is partly about my Beatle years, and she thought it should be better known. The essay, though it doesn’t mention the book, is a start.

Yesterday and today was full-on Festival time. This year was the best yet; the weather was perfect, and the streets were jam-packed with every demographic, every age, ethnicity, and sexual preference — Canadian tolerance and multiculturalism at its best. Parliament Street was a festival of musical performances and street food with limitless choice; I had Thai/Vietnamese yesterday and vegan Ethiopian today. The garage sales were everywhere; I bought a never-used dog-carrying backpack for $10, in the hopes it’ll make taking Tiggy to the vet easier. The boys and Anna came yesterday and we explored; I gave them a bit of money to have fun with, which meant ice cream. The Festival always makes me proud to be Canadian and a Cabbagetowner. So I was plenty proud this weekend.

The boys played pingpong and also with a giant chess set; a drum band called TDot Batu, fabulous, very LOUD; and us at the Farm.

Something big: I got a note from a neighbour that they were going to take down the enormous tree that extends from their yard, over my neighbour Danielle’s, over mine, even as far as the condos to the south of me. It’s a Manitoba maple I’ve hated for years, ever-growing, now so thick above the end of my garden that it allows no sun at all, and my pretty Japanese maple shrivelled and died. They said the city had given permission for them to take it down because it’s at such a dangerous angle, it could fall. I was thrilled.

Passing their house, I stopped to meet and talk to them. They told me they’d changed their minds, because another neighbour complained that he liked taking a shower without a shower curtain, and the tree hid him. I kid you not. Also the wife felt sorry for the tree. So I gave them a pep talk. I said, I love trees but that tree really is dangerous, and God knows, there are many huge trees in C’town, it’s not as if the birds will have nowhere to go. Shower man can get a curtain! But they remained unconvinced. Today I wrote offering to help pay for the removal, because so much of the tree is above my yard, and it’ll be a huge job.

They are going to take it down, starting Tuesday. It will cost me too, but there will be sun. Hooray. Life in the big city often involves tricky negotiations over trees.

The other thrill is the book I’ve been editing for my former student, who’s about to turn 98. It’s vivid and engaging. What a way to celebrate her birthday.

A busy week coming up — the first U of T class and first home class of the fall term, the vet, a haircut, a drink with a good friend, the tree coming down, and on Friday, a trip to Stratford, to visit friends and see at least one show. After a quiet summer, fall has certainly revved up.

I may complain about busyness and stress, but it’s better than the alternative.

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