Book Club

Rejoice with me, I'm part of a book club now.

I've always wanted to be part of one, but I didn't know how you go about finding those things. More importantly, I didn't know how, after you'd found one, you became part of it. It seemed too much like hunting down and inviting myself to a party, something I'd never do in a million years. I'm not an invitation solicitor. I'm not even an invitation hinter. Or, I don't mean to be. I do it accidentally sometimes.

(This one time, I was talking to a friend who, unbeknownst to me, was having a party at her house that night—'party' was probably the wrong word for it, it was so small. It was slightly bigger than a double date, but much smaller than a party. What's that called? A 'thing?' Like, "I'm having a thing at my place tonight"? Sure.

So, okay, I was talking to this friend and I mentioned in passing that I didn't have any plans that weekend and was feeling preemptively bored and a little mopey about it. She said, bless her well-meaning heart, "Oh, well, I'm having a party at my house; you should come."

Ah. The I Invited All the People I Actually Want There Four Weeks Ago But You Can Come Too If It Will Make You Feel Better About Your Life invite.

So then I had to go because I had already said I had no other plans, and I figured I'd be able to blend in pretty well because I'm good at blending in at parties. But when I arrived I saw that it was actually a thing, not a party, and I was not able to blend, like, at all. The whole time I was there, I felt like I shouldn't be. I felt like everyone else at the thing was thinking, "I thought this was going to be a thing, not a party. Why is there this extra person here?"

At least it was a one-time engagement and not a recurring obligation—like, say, a book club.)

So, anyway, I did not want to invite myself into a book club. Besides, what if, after all the emotional expense of finding an existing book club and getting myself in somehow, I didn't end up liking the group? What if they only wanted to read books about horses or vampires? What if there was a particularly snooty, extremely well-read person who took over the discussion and made the rest of us feel like idiots? What if they wanted to meet biweekly? After inviting myself in, or hinting myself in, or whatever, I couldn't very well quit, could I?

But a few months ago, a friend mentioned a book club she was in and invited me to come along It was that easy—as is almost always the case when it comes to things I've overthought to death. So far, we haven't read any books involving horses or vampires, everyone is very smart but no one is snooty, and we meet once every few months, which is very doable.

We met just last night, in fact. We read the book My Grandmother Sends Her Regards and Apologises by Fredrik Backman. I loved it—we all agreed that the first six chapters are ones you have to sludge through a bit, but the ending is worth it. We discussed the heck out of that book and picked a new one for December. I was pleased with the experience.

(When I was leaving the house, Sully asked where I was going. I told him I was going to my book club and he scrunched his little face up and said, "Book club? Is that a joke?"

I said, "No, it's not a joke. Why would it be a joke?"

He said, "Well, okay. Everyone's going to be real surprised to see you there."

What can that mean?)

Snapshots from This Week

Sully and I are cleaning the house and he finds an old baby toy that sings Twinkle Twinkle Little Star obnoxiously loud when you push the button. He lets it play a few times, listening intently, and then he goes, "Wow. This really takes me back."

***

My messages app isn't working on my iPhone, so I take it to Sasktel in the Southland to get it fixed. The guy's like, "You probably just need to install the new update."

I tell him, "Well, I tried that already a few times, my phone will download it but then it just freezes without actually installing it."

He says, "I'll do it for you. It'll take forty minutes."

I say, "Fine."

It downloads, which does indeed take forty minutes, and then it freezes. He's like, "Weird. Maybe take this to the Jump at Cornwall."

I say, "Fine."

***

It's Saturday night, and Barclay and I are at the Joe Bonamassa concert. I got tickets through Tourism Regina, and if Barclay didn't love me before I got them, he sure loves me now (there is evidence to suggest he also loved me before, though). He's a big Joe fan. The crowd is amazing; everyone is downright giddy to be here. They are exactly the kind of crowd you'd expect to find at the guitar event of the year.

Bonamassa's band is unreal. He's at that stage in his career where he can handpick the best of the best from the music industry for his tour; they've all played with people like Mick Jaggar and Miles Davis and Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash—not just people like that, but those exact actual people.

He's like a king, gathering whoever he wants from wherever he wants. His background vocalists are from Australia, he sourced his drummer from David Letterman's house band in New York, and he got his bass guitarist from Nashville. My favourite is his keyboard player, Reese Wynans, who used to play with Stevie Ray Vaughan. He's an old guy with a big white beard, and the music just seems to fall out of his fingers. Is it against the rules to go to a Joe Bonamassa concert and like the keyboard player the best?

***

I take my phone to the Jump at Cornwall and tell the woman there my problem. She says, "You probably just need to install the new update."

I'm like, "I tried that already a few times, my phone will download it but then it just freezes at the installation point. I took it to the Sasktel in the Southland and he tried it too but it didn't work for him either."

She's like, "Weird. Well I'll try do it for you. It'll take forty minutes."

I'm like, "Fine."

It downloads, which takes almost an hour this time, and then it freezes. She's like, "Weird. You'll have to come back another day and see a technician."

I'm like, "Fine."

***

At the breakfast table, Sully stares into his cereal bowl, unblinking. He says, "My Cheerios are my parents now."

***

I take my phone to the Jump in the east end. I tell the guy my problem, and he says, "You probably just need to install the new update."

I say, "I've had two Sasktel people try that already, the last girl said I just need to see a technician."

He says, "Oh, I'm not sure why she would tell you that. I'll just download the update here. It'll take about--"

And I say, "I'd actually rather you didn't." Sasktel is helping me to be a more assertive person. I feel proud of myself. "I've tried to download that update so many times, and each time I do, I feel like my phone gets slower and more apps stop working It won't back up to the iCloud. I have some important things on there that I don't want to lose, and I'm scared it's going to crash and lose everything completely."

He gives me a very condescending look, which will teach me not to be assertive in the future. He says, "It'll take forty minutes. And then we'll see."

And I say, "Fine."

When the forty minutes are up, he doesn't look smug anymore. He says, apologetically, "I think I wrecked your phone. I downloaded the update, and then it crashed, and now it won't start anymore. I'm really, really sorry. We'll need to send it to a technician. I can't guarantee we can save the data that was on there before."

I say, "Okay, thanks anyway."

***

I've been watching Gilmore Girls while I wait for my manuscript to come back. I hate all of the characters, but I love the show. I don't understand people who are Team Jess, or Team Dean, or Team Rory or Lorelei. They all kind of suck, don't they? I like Kirk and Emily though. I'm team Kirk and Emily.

I've also been reading Fredrik Backman's My Grandmother Sends her Regards and Apologises and listening to alt-J.

***

I take my phone to the Jump in Cornwall again, to see a technician. They tell me to leave it and wait for an hour and they'll call me on my loaner phone when they're done. I wander the mall for two. I get in my car, pay for parking, then they call and tell me it'll be done in an hour. I go home. I come back in a hour. I get my phone; it's fixed. I go home. I try to text Barclay. An error message flashes at me: No SIM card.

I go back to Sasktel. I say, "Hi, my SIM card is, apparently, here somewhere."

The lady behind the desk doesn't know what I'm talking about. The people who were working on my phone before have left for the day. At last she says, "Well...I guess I could look for it?"

I say, "Sure?"

She searches high and low, and finally finds my SIM card somewhere in the back.

I feel happy. I never want to come back to Sasktel again. I have a working phone! I am no longer cut off from society!

A day passes, two. My friends are strangely quiet. I text one of them this morning. She texts back, "Suzy! Hey! I was wondering why you weren't answering any of my texts yesterday."

So. I don't know. If you try to text me and I don't answer, it's because I've completely given up on technology and have decided to go back to snail mail.