Humble Pie pt. 2.

Rabbi and I went to Miriam Toews' book launch of 'The Flying Troutmans' this evening. We stood shoulder to shoulder behind the Retirement cards and I ran into half my bloodline milling in the crowd. Mennonites love to support, and love to hate. Ridiculous. It was a treat to run into my uncle Pete and stand in line together as we waited to have our copies signed. Rebecca (Rabbi) couldn't stop laughing at how many people I greeted in passing. I eat that kind of stuff up; the kind of evening where conversations barely exist because I am too busy with my mouth agape, eyes darting above heads seeing what is going on. Small townie ticks like these keep me grounded. I like that, I hope they never leave. Any how, I was hugely impressed with the first ten pages of her novel that I devoured in bed while turning pages with one hand and maneuvering the borscht sent by my mother out of a Cheez Whiz jar with the other. Thanks mum, thanks Miriam. I am wowed daily by both of your talents.

Read it, laugh aloud in a line up. Read it over a cup of coffee at Chicken Chef in Steinbach. I know I sure as shit am going to.