Lucia Frangione

Rick is in his Rav, all sharp and salt and pepper this crisp early morning. He matches the landscape. He drives with the precision of a great stage manager. I feel entirely safe. As we glide along the foggy Coquihalla, he asks me what my favourite shows have been over the years. Between the two of us we reminiscence all shiny eyed about the transcendent moments of the past: creative new plays, amazing designs, powerful performances…the best of besotted theatre geeks. This is why he is so damn good at his job. He simply loves it. Loves it. It’s always…

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Another rainy dark early morning. Despite my vitamin Ds it’s really starting to get me down. I’m walking with my old dog who is swerving like a sad little wino on welfare Wednesday. I tried giving him a sedative from the vet to help him sleep through the night. He still wakes up. He just walks into walls. Poor little dopey fella. I plod along monotone in the endless monochrome, “rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain”. Up ahead is a neighbour I need to find more understanding for, walking two small yappy dogs I also need to find…

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My delicates are drying on the dash board heat vent of my car. They flutter at the lacy seams when I pull into the left lane at Nanaimo. There’s been no time for laundry. I am praying, “Please God, give my dog a heart attack.” I slow to 20km for the sharp turn at McGill and my fatigue allows for a couple of tears. The poor old boy has taken a turn for the worse. I bought the small bag of dog food at the grocery store. When can I even fit in the vet? “Oh, God, don’t make me…

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It’s a rare comfort to be able to order the same omelette from the same waiter and sit in the same booth for twenty three years. Paul’s is humming with old timers at 8am and I greet my 1306 with eager glee. I eat the twist of orange first and warm my hands around the cup of coffee. I chuckle over my rye swirl. I think I first came here with Michelle and Don and Rod – maybe even Cheryl. We would have been a good looking bunch of youngsters back in the 90s: Michelle with her wild blonde tangle…

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Like many of you on the Westcoast, the rainy season gets to me. Knowing it’s coming, I have learned to do kind things for myself ahead of time to make it through. I try to make sure my house has decent lighting, I get out and walk in the rain with my dog regardless, I wear bright colours and bright shoes, I drive a bright coloured car, I buy kale, I live in a brightly coloured home. I avoid any film or TV show that is Swedish…I have people over who make me laugh. My favourite combative move against SAD…

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Four o’clock in the morning and my old dog has to pee. This has been the situation for the past year and a half. I can’t remember the last time I had a good sleep. Having just thrown a big Thanksgiving dinner party I am particularly sluggish at this hour. I roll out of bed with Headpins hair that takes me right back to Darby Mills  in the 1980s. I am wearing my husband’s t-shirt and some frilly panties (this detail is important for later). I catch myself in the mirror, bad posture. Not sexy! Not even if I squint….

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My children have been pescetarian for a year and now they have both told me they are interested in going vegan. This has become very popular here on the Westcoast, particularly with teens who have watched  What the Health on Netflix. The more I try to encourage moderation and gently discuss how manipulative and incorrect the doc/propaganda flick is – the more passionate they become. They don’t want to create more work for me, but they’d love to explore this. I gently invite them to join us for turkey dinner this Thanksgiving for the cultural experience and tradition but I leave it up…

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I took the time to cradle two moths in my hands. One by one, I escorted them outside. Normally I assume their delicate wings will simply crumble with the terror and flight of capture, so I get it over quick and whack them dead with a dust cloth. And…I’ll be honest. I kill to save time. This is a suite, I have guests coming, I can’t dilly dally being all PETA with insects. But today their delicate hope, pressed against the window pane, moved me. “The outdoors is there. I can feel it. I can see it. Perhaps if I…

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I have decided to contact a theatre every single day and tell them about my writing. This is terrifying for me. I would rather people just mysterious “hear” about my work, all across the world, and spontaneously produce it. I an not afraid of the word “no”, I am not afraid of criticism, I am afraid of being a nuisance. Isn’t that stupid?! I started with Bob in Manitoba because he’s a very warm and generous man and he likes me and he’s done two of my plays already and he produces a lot of female playwrights. His line up…

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On my way into Vancouver a little red vespa pulls up in front of me. A man in his sixties is driving and he has one of those cool brown leather helmets. When his pants hitch up, they reveal beautiful bright blue striped socks. I want to yell out the window, “your socks give me joy!” Everything is winking at me today, who am I kidding? I just drove over the magnificent Lion’s Gate Bridge and through Stanley park all lush and green and sprinkled with young people who all seem to be laughing. The little girl beside me (I’ve…

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