Even though I had ordered boxes and labels for the Okanagan Fruit and Rum Bars, I actually had no idea how I was going to present them.  I thought of using my mini-loaf pans, and then cutting the cakes in half lengthwise.  After trying this a few times, I could see that cutting something exactly in half thousands of times was going to lead to one of those horrible murder-suicide incidents.

The Universe, however, was already chuckling at me, and waiting for me to remember that I had the answer already made.  During our last baking session in December, we’d ended up with half a loaf’s worth of dough, and Marilyn suggested we should just bake it.  I soaked it in rum, vacuum-sealed it, and threw it on the table downstairs.  There it sat, waiting to be discovered.

Imagine my wonderment at how my most major predicament was solved through a so-called ‘coincidence.’  I’m now making perfect little bars, and as soon as the labels arrive, I hope I will be selling these babies like hotcakes.  I contacted a gourmet store owner in Langley, and she said she’s always interested in trying locally made foods.

So even though there is finally forward-movement in the fruitcake business, there isn’t one single thing happening with the garden project.  I was promised dirt last Friday, but here I am five days later: dirtless in Kelowna.

Any person who has any kind of a trade appears to be belong to a secret brotherhood.  They promise to uphold their credo, which consists of telling the customer they will be there, when they know they won’t.  Why, I have no idea, but I’ve been through enough renovations to know that’s the way they operate.

I, on the other hand, must whip up gourmet sandwiches in a timely manner for Nicky’s lunches.  The other night I was watching TV when the phone rang.  It was Nicky.  He wanted to let me know that he had clothes in the dryer, and he would appreciate it if I would get them out and fold them so they wouldn’t be wrinkled.  Imagine how little success I’d have with the Trade Person’s Credo!

Denis grew up in a construction company-owning family, and so he seems to have inherited this ‘manana’ kind of philosophy himself.  Imagine his surprise when he came home yesterday and I had the stove unplugged with tools scattered about.  After 18 months with a broken oven, I’d decided to take matters into my own hands and fix it myself.

I’d called Sears, and they told me to get a ‘baking element.’  That bought, I set about removing the old one.  Sure enough, the new element worked, and I was completely triumphant.  I do draw the line at repairing vehicles, however.