I type this from the 17th floor of a hotel in downtown Toronto, not far from the shores of a really large lake.

We love it here. The people are nice. They serve vinegar with their french fries. Crepes are readily available. And donuts abound at every intersection. But I am getting ahead of myself. We have not posted here for a few days, and that is because getting to Canada takes some doing.

We set off on Friday morning, car full of books, hearts full of hope and expectation.

As I am wont to do when I drive, I continually pointed in the direction of Canada, in part to look the part of heroic family leader, and in part to make sure we did not forget where we were going.

The drive was long and unremarkable, except for this building in Syracuse, to which Robbi was drawn like a small town girl to a building with more than three stories.

Because Canada is practically a different country, the weather was entirely different there.

We had been parading about in shorts and t-shirts in Chestertown, but Canada called for full-on gloom-resistant garb. Anything that prolongs the reach of winter is a-ok with me. I despise sunshine. I am in heaven in Canada.

As instructed by our Canadian neighbors Donald and Ann, the very first thing we did upon crossing the border was stop at Tim Hortons, a donut shop that, as advertised, puts Dunkin Donuts to shame.

Full of donuts and inspired by the gloomy skies of our host nation, we went to bed in anticipation of a busy Saturday ahead.

We woke up and immediately headed to Tim Hortons for more donuts. Not until we were thoroughly full did we turn our attention to the business of the day.

The Toronto Comic Arts Festival (TCAF) is held at the Toronto Reference Library, a spectacular building in the heart of downtown.

It has a vaulted ceiling, recessed lighting, and architecturally interesting stairwells.

Behold the good citizens of Toronto, on hand to browse and buy comics and other sorts of beautiful small press book items.

We spent a few hours setting up our booth, and then we stood at full alertness, waiting for the good people of Canada to come affirm us with their beautiful Canadian money.

The first few hours were marked by passages of hope and despair. We had come a long way, and so we wanted to be well received. At first, we thought we were. We would look across the crowded room and notice people walking toward us with great determination. “My god,” we thought to ourselves, “That man is really determined to come over here and buy some books.”

But then, as we prepared welcome him to our table, the man would walk by with purpose and conviction, not even stopping to glance at our wares. I must admit, it hurt our hearts. Until we made an important discovery:

Our table was right next to the men’s room.

This realization behind us, we soon learned to separate bathroom-based rejection from the other kind, of which there was still plenty. Our books simply don’t mesh with the general aesthetic of most comics. Our covers are generally more subtle, for one, and our books’ interiors, lacking speech bubbles and panels, are unfamiliar to someone browsing for the latest and greatest in the world of comics.

The first few hours passed without a single sale, and we began to despair and doubt ourselves. At 10:45, we were called off to sit on a panel about the comic as an art object.

Because Kato’s social network in Toronto is still somewhat thin, he decided to join us.

The panel was fun. We got to talk about what we do in front of a room full of interested people. What can be better than that?

We returned to our table with heavy hearts, wondering if we’d be able to cover our mounting Tim Horton’s donut bill.

And then it happened. Canada discovered Idiots’Books. From 9-noon, we sold perhaps four books. But starting at noon, a great wave of Canadians came and feasted at the Idiots’Books table. Makers Tile Games, t-shirts, After Everafter, Ten Thousand Stories, and The Baby is Disappointing were the most popular items, but there was enthusiasm for the full range of Idiots’ offerings.

One woman even requested to come into our booth, that she might be photographed with Robbi while Robbi signed a book for her.

Another enthusiastic book buyer requested that Kato get into the act. It’s hard to tell from this blurry photo (taken by me, of course), but this is his first official autograph.

Amid all the blistering commerce, the afternoon flew by. Suddenly, it was 5:00, and we were asked to leave the Toronto Reference Library for the night. Set adrift on the streets of Toronto, we did the only thing we knew how to do.

We went to Tim Hortons of course.

I kid you not, these are some serious donuts. Especially this bad boy.

Tim might call it the Candy Bar Supreme. I call it breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Because we are now officially people in their mid-thirties with two children, we did not attempt to “live it up” or “paint the town red.” Instead, we took our donuts back to our hotel, climbed into bed, and watched Napoleon Dynamite and Pretty in Pink back-to-back.

Lest you were tempted to otherwise glamorize the nightlife inclinations of international bookselling Idiots.

Off to the library now for more of the same. And then the long drive home.