June Ferry To Gabriola

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

     Gabriola Island is nearby, and I thought I would explore. A sign at the terminal said Malcolm Lowry was the only famous Canadian author to consider living on the island. Obviously, they have not heard of me! (Okay. Maybe not that famous.) My final destinatin was the same point of land that he and his wife Margerie had headed for, as they considered accepting a rental many years ago. In the end, their lease in Deep Cove, North Vancouver, was extended and the story "October Ferry To Gabriola" was born. I read Under The Volcano when I was going to university, rather fascinated by what a man in the throes of alcoholism and who had died choking on his own vomit, had come up with. 

      My first thought as I visited the island was envy. What a nice ferry they had! And a schedule to die for, it being more convenient than Salt Spring's. Go figger, because Salt Spring Island is larger and more populated. My mission of the day was to have fun. 

Stopped in Mad Rona's for coffee and wrote awhile, approving of the plants, the spacious wood tables, the sunlight which played with my pen as words crossed the page. So many beautiful parks and beaches, and truly a beautiful island. Lunch out at an ocean side restaurant proved to be fatal. My body paid for it for days. Nevermind. Sometimes it is just good to get out and about. 

Salt Spring Island Book Presentation

Author signing. 

 By Maryanna Gabriel

The presentation for my book went really well. It was so moving to see people I have known for so long in many unique ways.

The Salt Spring Library provided the best of equipment and a CBC theatrical type setting with the lighting and seating. After I worked through my nerves, it was fun doing the readings. 

It stunned me that when it was over that the audience stayed seated. I was done, but they were not. What followed were a series of more intimate questions that went on for some time. This touched me deeply.

It made it all meaningful and worthwhile.

What About My Hair?

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

The upshot is that I have been cooking with a lot of onions. Good thing I like onions. 

As if writing was not enough, being published requires even more skills. Right now I am madly beavering away on what I am going to say when I stand in front of an audience. There are also edits to be done for a short story which has been accepted. This sounds like a fantasy blog, but really? All true.

It's strange to be turned inward in varying writerly gyrations with the creation of a manuscript, turning down invitations, and obsessively mulling over every word, and to now do the opposite and turn outward. I have to meet my public. Oh my goodness. What about my hair?

And I have been asked to send a book to a reviewer. Fingers crossed. 

Covid Arm

 By Maryanna Gabriel

The end of the onion is used. 

Yeah, for the lowly onion. 

Ever since I felt forced to take the Covid vaccine, my arm has hurt. Lately it has been worse. I love to swim and it was to the point where I could barely manage.

Where I live in the Pacific Northwest, there is a doctor shortage, so I did some research. The discovery was that many are suffering from "Covid Arm", among other adverse reactions. I decided it was not muscular, as the pain radiated down my arm and up my neck, then into my brain. So not a problem resulting from the muscle then. (I must have received the last dose from the bottom of a barrel.)

With further reading, I learned an onion end can act as a poultice and draw out toxins. Wrapping an onion end around the injection site with bandages to keep it in place, and feeling like an Egyptian mummy, I encased the bandages with a plastic bag and went to sleep. 

When I woke up, there was a brown mark which I washed off but I was immediately, oh joy, pain free. How wonderful - the first time since the shot. It was working then. The next night, I repeated the poultice and woke up with a green streak on my arm. Pretty weird. Suddenly, I started to feel sick, aching joints, running hot and cold body temperature, and I realized I had triggered an immune response. My arm, however, felt great.

The next day, after repeating the poultice, there were strange brown bruises along the inside of my lower arm and at one point my palm looked black (see picture below). Scary. Last night I put the onion on the bruises, and this time used slices of potato on the injection site, and thought to myself if I add cheese I could be the fixings for a scalloped dish.

Casseroling myself out of bed this morning and reeking of onion, I leapt into an Epsom salt bath. While noticing an itching up my neck, my arm is back to normal. To tell you the truth, I deeply regret accepting whatever this was into my body because seriously? It sure as heck is not the onion. 

Self Care

 By Maryanna Gabriel

The father of my children died one year ago today. It seemed important to do nurturing things. My back was hurting badly, so I had work done on it and without any debate with myself, drove to my favourite place, Demitasse.

It is a little cafe in Victoria, set amid lovely trees and plants. I found myself having a mocha in the sunshine and most fortunately, I yielded to the Lime Cheesecake. Definitely a good decision. Last seen heading for the shore to watch the swirling tidepools.

Victoria is such a beautiful city.