For those of you who know me, I am a huge Marvel fan. (For those of you who don't and read this blog, I'm sure this comes as no surprise.) I took my kids to see Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness this week. Why did I rush to see it? Well, my kids were insistent, and they wanted to see it before the movie got spoiled for them by the other kids at school. Seriously, why would they do that? It just seems mean. They'd already had No Way Home ​spoiled for them at school before we could get to see it together, and the bitterness still ran strong within them. Stop spoiling the movies guys!

Two out of my three kids were nervous about the movie. They had heard that it was the closest thing Marvel had to a Horror film. The third one, well, Phillip was more excited than I had ever seen him about something like this. This kid? We watched Poltergeist together and he said it wasn't scary at all. We tried Insidious- not scary. Guys, I'm at a loss. He wants to be scared, and I don't want to inadvertently traumatize him. I'm open to suggestions. Please send them my way.

Well, the good news was that all three of them loved the movie.  No one was scared, and we had a great time. The conversation on the way home was lively, and we discussed the various character arcs and wether or not we agreed with how they were handled. (I'm torn, but the kids thought things were handled brilliantly. Eh, what do they know? They're eleven.) I say that we talked in the car, because the kids are aware of my policy- No discussing the movie out loud as other people are waiting to see it!

I suppose this rule is similar to a rule I share with my husband when we see theatre- no critiquing the play in public within a five kilometer radius of the theatre. You just never know who is sitting around you. And if you thought the play sucked, you don't want to say that in front of a cast member, or a member of the production team. (We know people this happened to.) The reasoning behind it is different, but the spirit of the rule is the same.

But, back to the movie- what I can say without getting too spoilery is this: Hailey has a new favourite superhero. America Chavez captured her interest from the second she got on screen. It was great watching my daughter watching her. So far, Hailey's favourites of Scarlet Witch, and Wonder Woman were adults. They seemed to be unattainable figures, and aspirational in a way that America just isn't. She seems more real to Hailey- a kid like her. It helps that she's played so well by Xochitl Gomez. Hailey, like all the other girls in her class (and her brothers), absolutely loved The Babysitters' Club on Netflix (a cancellation, that like Julie and the Phantoms really upset our entire household. Seriously Netflix. WTF?) and Xochitl was Hailey's favourite actor on the show. She ended up liking the new Dawn, but it just wasn't the same. So seeing a real kid up there, kicking butt on the bog screen was amazing for her to see. We can't wait to see what happens next with her. We got home, and Phillip immediately handed her his collection of Young Avengers comics so she could have more Amerca Chavez!

If you've read my books, you know I'm all for representation. It matters. And knowing that there are more characters out there representing all sorts of people, I'm excited to see what's next. Bring on Ms. Marvel, and SheHulk​, and all of it. I'm ready, and so are my kids!

For those of you who follow this site, you know that I have written a sweet little Middle Grade novel with my son Joseph. It's called Lucky at Bat, ​and you can find out more about it on this page here. What I am super excited to announce is that it is being published! Lucky at Bat will be a published book with Koëhler Books on November 22, 2022. 

Joseph will be able to call himself a published author at age eleven, and as a kid who was never really into reading, the fact that he has worked so hard to create the world of Jack- a baseball loving eleven-year-old boy, and his pet rats, I am so proud. 

I am throwing Joseph into the world of writing, and this past Tuesday, he had his first taste of it. We took Lucky at Bat to Bampot tea house and did a reading from it. Much kudos goes to Jen Frankel for hosting and inviting us! (Everybody, buy her books. Undead Redhead is amazing!) It's been way too long since we saw each other in person. Joseph was in his element, schmoozing around and making friends with the other writers, and performers. He certainly didn't get this from me. I am far more introverted. Give me a script, and I'm good to go, but put me in a room full of strangers, no matter what we have in common, and I tend to clam up. 

We started the evening with Joseph bluntly telling me all the things I got wrong in the intro I wrote for him to say (thanks, Jo!). I took his corrections with aplomb. We found our window seat pillow pile, ordered our teas and freshly popped popcorn, and we were on our way. 

This time, Joseph didn't read. He was more into the snacks and the people. But he got up to the mic, said his piece, and he was proud of himself. He should be. It was far more than I was able to accomplish at my first reading. (Spoiler alert- I chickened out on reading, and cozied up to a cheese plate instead.)

Soon, Joseph will be up to his eyeballs in cover art, edits, and marketing. It will be an education for him, and he is working on growing his love of books. Any recommendations for an eleven-year-old who loves rats and baseball are always appreciated. 

More news on Lucky at Bat will be forthcoming. I will be sure to keep you all updated here. Joseph, we are ALL proud of you. 

I am turning the reigns over to my son Joseph. Let's see what an 11-year-old has to say. Heeeere's Joseph!

What I have to say is that the blue jays are going to win the world series this season 100 percent.

Anything else, Joseph?

Well, I learned that lesson. Didn't I? Let's try Phillip now.

Hey, Phillip, wanna be a guest blogger? Here's Phillip!

Im a three sport player. I'm a basketball player- point guard. I'm a baseball player- short stop and centre field. And I'm a soccer player- goalie. I wish to become a professional NBA player for the Toronto Raptors.

​Anything else you want to say, Phillip?

So, I'm learning real quick that I can't outsource this blog to the boys. It's a good thing I have three kids! Hey, Hailey, wanna give it a whirl?

Hi, this is Hailey. I'm gonna talk about Sonic! Sonic is an African pygmy hedgehog. He is very friendly (To people that don't think he is a scary porcupine). He is adorable and eats cat food (Hedgehog food sometimes has bad stuff in it). The food is called Blue Buffalo cat food. He is also nocturnal but I still take him out during the day, otherwise he won't be around me at all and that is bad. He is a punkrocker sometimes. That means that he is not full on hissy, he just has his front quills half on his face. It is cute. Sonic is very cute, friendly, and adorable.

Next on to Simba! Simba is a Aussiedoodle! He is adorable and a floof monster. He finds it funny to steal our things sometimes he counter-surfs. That means that he jumps up on the counter and searches for things to steal. He finds it hilarious, and if we don't notice he comes to us barks and then makes us chase him.

A bit about me I'm 11 years old. When I grow up I used to want to be a singer but then realized it would be stressful because I probably wouldn't be able to chill because I would be famous, so now I want to be a writer like my mom. I think that if I am a writer I will be able to put my creative thoughts onto paper. I have come up with a lot of ideas for books. I mean I could start a career as a writer Now! A couple of my Ideas are:​

• A book about a hedgehog who has superpowers but also is in a movie.
• A book that is a girls diary it starts with her past but leads into present time.

Me and my mom are in the middle of a book (Not a chapter book) it will be a really good book. When it comes out please buy it, it will make me happy. 

So, what I've learned here is that if I want a guest blogger from my house, it should always be Hailey!

It seems fitting that my last post was on Passover, and my new one is coming out the day of the first seder. To say that a lot has happened in five years is a hell of an understatement. I suppose it's time for an update. Where to begin?

Let's start by completely ignoring the elephant in the room, and talk about some happy stuff, eh? In the past five years, we moved TWICE! I absolutely hate moving, and moving twice with triplets is no picnic. But we are happy in our new home, and I told our friend Adrian that he'd have to bury me in this house. Not necessarily because I love it so much (I do, btw), but because I hate moving that much. 

In other happy news, our pet population has absolutely exploded! Not literally, of course, but those of you who follow me on Instagram, can attest to just how many animals now live in this house. So check out our furry friends:
​

This is our dog, Simba. He's an Aussiedoodle with a snarky sense of humour. How can a dog be snarky? Trust me, he can. He steals stuff, not to eat, but because he finds it hilarious to make you chase him.

This is Sonic the Hedgehog (one of the only acceptable names for a hedgehog according to my daughter). He hisses at you when he gets mad, and makes his face look like an angry punkrocker. She finds it adorable.

This is Stitch, Phillip's gerbil (or brobil, as he called him). He is silent, doesn't stink, is cute, and low-maintenance. All in all, the perfect pet!

This is Joesph with his rats Loki and GusGus. They are playful and cuddly, and he adores them. There is much more rat related news, but I think I will save that for the next blog. (Ooh! A cliffhanger!)

As for that elephant I mentioned earlier, we were getting through the pandemic fairly unscathed. And we were looking forward to hosting our first seder in so long! Just think of it! People! In our house! An actual family dinner! Huzzah! But then... (I think you can all see where this is going...) BOOM! COVID came and hit us in the face. It sucks, most of us feel like garbage, but we're surviving. So, let's see if we can eat a 15lb turkey between the five of us. (Don't worry, I froze the brisket.

Until next time. ( I promise I won't take five years to update this time.)

So, I have a book launching tomorrow, and it's also the first day of Passover. Needless to say, my mind is a jumble of prep work and wondering how my baby is going to be received by the world. Tuesday happens to be the second night of Passover (due to our following a lunar calendar) and we are hosting the seder that night at our house. This means that while I'm anxiously awaiting my book's debut, my kitchen is a half-formed mess of Passover brisket, hard boiled eggs, soup, sauces, half done pies, and the non-Passover food corner that is being used to feed the kids.

With regards to this particular book, part of my nervousness has to do with the fact that this is probably one of the most personal pieces I've written. It was formerly published under the title The Strings of the Violin, but it's found a new home at Pandamoon Publishing and I couldn't be happier with what I've been able to do with it here. Now called The Song of Hadariah, we have added a new Prologue, added more Yiddish and Hebrew, a new glossary, and each book in this trilogy will also be telling my bubbie's story. 

This is what I always wanted this book to be, and now I have the chance to tell the story my way, and I am so excited about it. To have this particular book come out on the first day of Passover, a holiday where we are celebrating our freedom feels more than fitting, and while I know that this also means that my ability to push it the way I want to tomorrow will be extremely limited, it all feels besheret in it's own way. 

I hope I did my bubbie proud in telling this story. Everything in it came from her, her life, her fairy tales, and the focus on strong girls united in friendship. This is a tale of Jewish folklore, myth, and magic, and it is truly for her.

So, while I can't really push things tomorrow, I can say today that The Song of Hadariah: Book one of The Dybbuk Scrolls ​is now available for preorder as an ebook on Amazon. Check it out!

In my defence, every winter we seem to go through this never-ending cycle of sickness. I blame the fact that all three kids are six years old and seem to have no concept of germs or contagion. I mean, last night, one of my sons licked my face and told me I was delicious. Maybe, if I hadn't finished binging all three seasons of Hannibal, I would have found the comment endearing instead of skin-crawlingly horrifying (although the action itself would have still been disgusting). Now I expect to come down with the plague or something. 

I can not afford to get sick right now. So many things are going on right now. The Song of Hadariah is being released in a mere couple of weeks, and as I have my ARC now, I am working hard on getting it into as many hands as possible. Any volunteers? I also have The Hedgewitch's Charm, Bath Salts, and a few others in various stages of edits. I am up to my eyeballs in writing The Island of the Mystics, and (what I am super fantastically excited about) my brother Brian is all gung ho about a little project we conceived together about five years ago. That's right poppets, I am revamping and reediting Sibling Revelry. (Now called - in my head at least- Sibling Revelry: This Time it's Animated!!!!) Just goes to show that all things that are worthwhile take time and effort. 

But, I sit here wracked with dread. The kids are all finally feeling better. As a parent of young children, I know that my exhaustion and my close proximity to their snotty noses, lack of covering their mouths when they cough, late night vomitous explosions, and their desire for sickly snuggling up to me have created a perfect storm. My downfall is imminent. I've already come down with the flu, strep throat, and a double ear infection so far. I am terrified as to what's next. And last night, I feel my son dealt me the fatal blow. I can feel it, like a tickle at the back of my throat. Stupid winter flu season. Grrr....

But, I need to focus on the work. I want to ship the kids off to their grandparents and crawl into bed. But as Sweeney says:

And the work can be impatient. And I love it. I will focus on all that I need to accomplish, and I will channel this into (probably) tormenting my characters on their lovely island (spoiler, there is an island. There may be mystics on it), and I will transform my pilot into the best damn pilot for children's television ever! 

It's finally here! Today is the day you can officially get your copy of The City of Arches! I am so excited, and I am so proud of the work I put into this book. I think that if I had to choose one of the books to be my favourite, it would be this one. I am so happy with how the cover came out. 

And I can't say how greatful I am to my friend Ryan for his help in steering me to the right people like Sage in helping me nail down the character of Learsi. One of the aspects of her character is that she's deaf. For me, representation is important. It matters. I wanted Learsi's deafness to be importnat to who she was as a character, and I also wanted to do my best to get it right. So, as I said in the Acknowledgements in the back of the book, all mistakes were mine and mine alone. 

One of the things I also wanted to accomplish with this book was the possibility of giving back. For Brian and I, we believe very strongly in helping our community, and for the past six years, that community has included the Sunnybrook Hospital High Risk Pregnancy Unit, and the Neonatal Follow Up Clinic. So, on February 21, 2017, I will be hosting a book launch/funraiser for the Sunnybrook Hospital. Tickets are now available here. It will be an evening of food, fun, and a chance to win great prizes. Furthermore, everyone in attendance will get a signed copy of The City of Arches.

In other news, you may have noticed that a number of things on my website have been renamed. This was a choice made by myself and my publisher. The Hadariah Chronicles is now known as The Dybbuk Scrolls, and each book in the trilogy has a new title. I am thrilled by the new direction of this piece of work, and I can say here that I have seen the new cover of the first book, now called The Song of Hadariah, and I am so happy with how it looks. We have a cohesive plan with the rest of the series to give all three books a uniform look and feel, and I can not wait to show it to everyone!

In a related matter, all the Sitnalta books have a new vibe as well for many of the same reasons. Behold! The new and improved ​Sitnalta Series!

And again, because I love it so much!

The City of Arches is now available for purchase on Kindle and as a paperback.

Yes, I've been derelict in updating this blog. But I swear! I have a good excuse! Several of them really. It turns out, I have EIGHT books coming out in 2017. I am alternating between hyperventilating over the sheer number of titles, and doing a massive happy dance. This year, you will see four new Sitnalta titles, the rerelease of The Hadariah Chronicles and the rerelease of Bath Salts. This is going to be one whirlwind of a year, and I couldn't be happier about it. 

To start 2017 off with a bang, The City of Arches is coming out on January 10, 2017. I am so unbelievably proud of this book. The City of Arches is more than just the third book in The Sitnalta Series. In this book, secrets will finally be revealed. We will learn about the secrets behind Kralc and the coin. We will find out how everything began. I had so much fun writing it, and my editor Rachel was an unbelievable help in making sure that I didn't retcon the hell out of the first two books. I am so happy with how it turned out, and I can't wait for everyone to read it!

In line with the release with The City of Arches, I am finally going to be able to give back to a cause that is near and dear to my heart. For those of you who have been following my blog, you know that I am a mother of triplets. When I was pregnant, I was actually turned away from a few hospitals because I would not have a selective reduction, and turn my triplet pregnancy into a twin one. The multiple births clinic at Sunnybrook Hospital took me on, and I firmly believe that they were instrumental in the fact that I now have three healthy and beautiful children. So, on February 21, 2017, I will be having a fundraiser/book launch celebrating the hospital that helped me birth my three inspirations for all I do. 

I will be posting links to buy tickets, and more information as I plan. So far, this will be takign place February 21, at the Vaughan Estates at Sunnybrook. Links will be forthcoming, and all in attendance will get their own copy of The City of Arches​. All proceeds from the event will directly go to the Multiple Births Clinic at Sunnybrook Hospital.

Sebastian, Sea Bass, Mr. Face, Bastoo, Sebasti, Puppyo. Nine years was nowhere near enough. I don't know what to say. All I know is that my heart is shattered. My handsome boy, my cuddle bug, my babies' protector and friend is gone. A dog's life is not long enough as it is, and yet, he was taken from us far too soon.

​Nine years ago today, a litter of puppies was born. Not long after that, Brian and I went to see them, excited to get our first pet together. All we knew was that we wanted a goldendoodle. I always had issues around certain dogs, and we figured that a cross between a poodle and a retriever would be a a good way around that. When we went to see the puppies, we were told that there were two young males that still needed placing in a good home. One of them had the light, tight curls that we expected of a doodle, while the other was a straight haired, apricot coloured mess with white feet. Clearly, we wanted the former. However, while there, the curly little boy kept hiding from us. He wanted nothing of our petting, our kisses, our hugs. And yet, the other puppy was all over us. We were the best thing he had ever seen. He was jumping all over our feet. His little tail wagged with excitement. His tongue was out, showering us with his kisses. This dog adored us. This dog was begging us to give him a home. Who were we to argue?

In the time that followed, I used to joke that his mother ( a pure bred golden retriever) after getting impregnated by the apricot poodle that was supposedly his father, had had an affair with some sort of fox hound. It was the only thing that explained his straight hair, his white markings, and his propensity for shedding an unbelievable amount. But we took him home, and we determined that we were going to train him to be the best behaved dog possible. But first, we needed to name him. I suggested Kermit. Brian said no. I suggested Fozzie, Kugel, Brisket, and Chewie. All of these were shot down. We both talked over our mutual love of Disney, and I also threw out some Shakespearean suggestions. Eventually we settled on Sebastian. It was perfect. It suited him, and he loved listening to music. 

The first few nights home with him were tough. I had been opposed to crate training, and I never wanted it in my room. But after two nights of Sebastian making it known that he wanted to be with us, and not by himself, (Nights that prompted me to change his name temporarily from Sebastian to Sir Bastard the Poo Flinger) he found his crate firmly ensconced in our room, and there he would remain. 

Sebastian quickly became a part of our family. He was our cuddle bug, our friend, our companion. He was our mischief maker, our annoyance, our pain. Brian complained often that they had taken the dog that ate anything and everything, and had bred it with the dog that could figure out how to get to anything and everything. Something that was never so apparent as when our boy ate pot pourri, and wound up hospitalized for a week with ulcers throughout his digestive system. I was terrified then, and when he came home, he ran right back to the bowl to see if there was more. He never learned. Over the years, he ate several sponges, two chickens (one raw, one cooked), the thumb off an oven mitt, a plastic fork, chopsticks, chocolate chip cookies, baby wipes, socks, my underwear, various toys, kleenex, paper towel, countless ear plugs, and had a memorable encounter with a skunk. It got to the point that I would call the vet, and she would ask immediately what he had eaten once I said who I was. 

When we moved houses, I was worried about how he would take it. He loved escaping our old house, and running through everyone's unfenced yards. I was a little unenthused about the constant chases. But he quickly adapted to the fact that we now had a massive french door facing the street where he could sit, watch and bark a friendly hello to everyone that passed by. A couple of years later, and his life would change again. I was pregnant with triplets. Now, I couldn't run around the yard with him. Now I was on bed rest, and Sebastian was my companion, lying on my bed with me. He wasn't the active dog he was before. He acted as if he had a more important job to do. It was as if he sensed that things were changing once again. He was looking after me. 

After the triplets were born, we brought them home one at a time. Introducing them to Sebastian was of utmost importance to us. We wanted him to care for them, to recognize them as a part of his family. But, we needn't have worried. He treated them as if they were his puppies, smelling them, giving them gentle kisses. He guarded them and he cared for them. As they grew, their relationship with him grew as well. They used him as their cuddle buddy. They rode him around the house as their noble steed, renaming him Galahad. They played tag with him, fetch, and tickled him. They made him the baby in their family, and they dressed him up for tea. But of the three of them, it was Joseph who latched on the most tightly from day one. He was the one who loved his kisses, and made Sebastian his pal. He declared him his dog, and his best friend. 

I thought these things would never change. Everything was great. I knew that this was wishful thinking, after all, pets never stay in your lives forever, as much as we wish and hope that they will. And Sebastian proved that to be the case. Last week, Brian and I noticed that he was breathing rather heavily, so I made an appointment with his vet. Two days before his appointment, his heavy breathing worsened, and I rushed him to the emergency pet hospital. He was diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection. I was given meds for it and told that he's be better in a few days. Instead, he worsened. I took him to his normal vet, and they did blood work and gave him an x-ray. As we waited for results, he continued to deteriorate. He started to have nose bleeds, and he looked utterly miserable. We took him to a special pet clinic, and we were given the news that our baby, our special handsome boy has a malignant nasal carcinoma. There is no cure, and anything we can give him to prolong his life will do nothing to improve the quality.

It seems so unfair! A week ago he was running through the backyard, playing tag with our kids, licking their faces. Last night, he lay at our feet, looking up at us with pain in his eyes. He occasionally got up and kissed us, as if he were telling us he was done, and that it was okay. It really does not feel okay. Nothing about this is okay. Joseph wants to know why his pal is not coming home. He wants to know why he has to be alone with no more cuddles. It seems so unfair. Hailey says that God is taking Sebastian home. My heart is breaking. 

Today it's his birthday, and he woke bleeding. We took him to his vet, and she met us in their backyard. On a blanket in the grass, under the sun, we said goodbye. He got one last walk around a yard. We got our last kisses, and our last cuddles. He was so peaceful. He is no longer in any pain. I am thankful for the wonderful care that Dr. Hughes provided us. She was there for him as a puppy, and she was there for him today. I am grateful that we could be outside. I like that my last memories of him are under the sun, and not in a sterile room. I want to think that my Mr. Face knew we loved him. I know that he loved us. 

Goodbye Sebastian. Goodbye to a wonderful dog, a troublemaker, a protector, a cuddler, a kisser, a noble steed, a pal, a friend, and a beloved part of our family. You were one of a kind, and we loved you with all our hearts. I don't know what we will do without you. There is a massive furry, dog sized hole in our hearts. They are broken.

Those of you who know me personally, know how much I have been wanting to see the musical Hamilton​ live on stage. I mean, it's gotten to the point that it probably annoys them how much I've been talking about it. I realize that, and to the people in my life, I am sincerely sorry about that. (But I am not sorry enough to stop.)

​I have been trying to get tickets for this show for probably a year now. It has been frustrating, and I still firmly believe that Ticketmaster needs to do better to curb the legal scalping they are allowing by not capping the fan to fan resale prices. You people are not fans if you are asking for over $1,000.00 for a ticket you paid $199.00 for! Really!

​In April, the moment the Tonys ended, my husband and I ran to our computers and we tried to get tickets for Hamilton ​from the new block of tickets that had just gone on sale. As we clicked pairs of tickets, they were bought out right under our noses. Show after show became sold out. Nothing in January, February, March, April, May, in 2017. I wanted to cry. Then I got a Facebook message from a friend of mine. "Try September," she wrote. I laughed. It seemed impossible. But I looked. There were two tickets for a show in September, being offered at face value, from the venue. I bought them. September 15, I had tickets to Hamilton!

​My husband and I planned a road trip, secured childcare, a place for the dog, and we packed. We would be staying with my brother Brian, and his fiancée Dayna. It was all set! September 14, I picked up the kids from school, had dinner, and we packed the car. We would drive the four hours to Syracuse that night, and we would stop at a hotel. The next day, we could get up early and drive the other four and a half hours. Plenty of time to get there for a 7:00 show. It would be easy!

​Now, Brian and Dayna had just moved to a new place, and my mom had asked me to help out by taking them some of their engagement presents. We are talking about crazy things to take over the border. I am talking about dishes, towels, a couple of coffee table books about Barbra Streisand. Maybe a cheese board or two were in the boxes we packed into my trunk. We got to the border making good time, and stopped at the duty free for a quick bathroom break. We would make Syracuse in a few hours, and all would be well. I was happy, and excited. We waited our turn for the agent at the border, and handed him our passports.

​"Business or pleasure?"

​"Pleasure."

"What will you be doing in New York?"

"Visiting family."

"Are you bringing anything with you?"

​I suppose at this time, we could have said no. But we didn't. We told him we were bringing my brother his dishes and towels for his new place. I emphasized that they were his. We weren't bringing goods or anything like that.

​"Open your trunk."

​We did. He saw the piles of boxes, all neatly labeled with my mom's address from when they were shipped to her off of their registry. He shut our trunk and directed us to the customs office where we were locked in a room and questioned about my brother and his status in the states. I answered their questions to the best of my ability.

"Ma'am, why don't you have a form 3299?"

"What is that?"

"Third party goods."

"No one told me I needed it?"

​They were annoyed. I was annoyed. It was 1:00 in the morning. They tried to find my brother in the system, and decided he didn't exist. After an hour in that room, they told us we had to turn around and go back into Canada. We could not enter the U.S.A. However, if we wanted to get rid of my brother's stuff, we could come right back.

​Brian and I entered Canada again (paying the $3.00 toll) and pulled back into the duty free parking lot to look at our options. I called my mom, and told her what had happened. Our phone call ended with me saying the following:

"If I miss Hamilton ​because of my brother's f*cking dishes, I am not speaking to any of you ever again!"

Suffice it to say, this was not my proudest moment.

​Then my husband had an idea. I have a cousin who has a home in Niagara On The Lake. This was a half hour away, as opposed to the two hour drive back to our house. If they were there, we could still make the show. I called my mom back for my cousin's number, and said it was that or I toss the stuff. She was not happy with me. My mom called my cousin, and my cousin called me. She was not in Niagara, but she had a back deck where we could put everything. I hoped, for my brother's sake, that it would not rain.

​Now, at this point we realized that there was no way out of the duty free that did not involve crossing the border. This was the thing we were still not allowed to do, due to the boxes still in our trunk. Brian went into the store and asked where to go. We cut past the U.S. border and went back through the toll booth onto the highway once more. (Another $3.00)

​We drove to Niagara, and my husband and I commenced breaking into my cousin's backyard, armed with our cell phone flashlights to hide my brother's boxes under the table we found on the deck. My fears at this point were threefold:

​1. Skunks.
​2. The neighbours would see us and call the police, thinking we were burglars.
3. The time. Would I make ​Hamilton? We were so far behind schedule!

We ditched the boxes without incident and continued on our way. The agents let us through into the U.S. without incident at this time, and we grabbed a quick bite to eat at a Denny's, and drove for as long as possible, stopping for rest periods, and making Syracuse at 6:30 in the morning. Here we had two choices, drive on exhausted and sleep deprived, or stop and nap at a hotel. I was a bit panicky. Napping meant time. However, driving while on the brink of exhaustion is not safe, so we stopped.

​We left after noon, and consulted our maps. We were due to arrive in New York at around 5:00. I kept telling myself that two hours was plenty of time to make a show. We would be fine, but as we took a few stops to grab a sandwich, pee, get gas, that time kept creeping upwards. 5:00 turned into 5:30, then 5:40, then back down to 5:38. I was getting nervous.

We finally made it into the city at 5:40. My brother had told us there was a parking lot next door to his new building. We pulled in and were told "We're full. Try down the block."

​We dumped our stuff in my brother's lobby and went down the street. Luckily the next place had room. We ran back to my brother's apartment and changed out of our sweaty shirts. (You don't see Hamilton stinking like a locker room.) We then ran outside and started towards the theater. It was over twenty blocks away. We grabbed a cab, and I started to pray.

​At just after 6:40 we got to the corner of 45th and 8th. I could see the theatre. We were going to make it! Then, Brian turns to me.

"I am not eating a cookie for dinner."

I gave him a blank stare.

"There's a Pret a Manger right there. Let's grab a sandwich."

​I follow him in and grab a banana and a half sandwich package. I can eat this quickly, I reason. Besides, the bathroom here won't have a line. I'm sure the Richard Rogers is full of people waiting to pee. I eat as quickly as possible, and we're off. I enter the theatre, and I can't believe we made it! I slide into my seat at 6:55. Then I start to worry.

I have listened to the soundtrack, so many times I have it memorized. How can the ​Hamilton on stage possibly live up to the Hamilton ​in my head? What if I've overhyped it? What if I'm surrounded by HamilFans and they... sing along​? That would be too awful. I remember what it was like when I saw Rent​. It was so obnoxious. I wanted to hear the people on stage. Not the off key people behind me. Ugh.

​But, just as I was freaking out, the lights went down, and the show started. All my worries were swept aside. It was better than I had hoped. Finally there was something that lived up to the hype. There is just something about live theatre that is simply magical; and that was what I saw on that stage: magic. The language was astonishing, the script is indescribable in how Lin-Manuel Miranda works with language to tell a story. I have seen so many shows where I see places where I would change things, make something less cliché, tweak something to add humour, or tension, lines that don't sit right for me. But here, I wouldn't change a word.

​I left that theatre inspired. I was inspired to do better; to write better. I left full of ideas, and a drive to create more. Those performers gave their all, and I was floored. By the end of it, I was a sobbing mess. It was just incredible. My one quibble: I wish it hadn't been so damn hard to get there!