Mother’s Day

Some of the biggest screaming fits curiously seem to occur on Mother’s Day.  I’m not sure why this is, but I recall having one four years ago, and then there was the other one this past weekend.  Four years ago I managed to tear off my big toe nail with the bottom of a door.  As I say to people, the combination of being a klutz and doing everything with gusto is a recipe for disaster.

I had pulled a door open towards me with all my might, not realizing that my foot was in the way.  The details are too horrible to rehash, but suffice it to say I am far more careful now.  In any case, this happened in the spring, and so I wasn’t able to do a lot of gardening.  So on Mother’s Day 2004, I had to get Nicky to help me with a shoveling project.

I gave him instructions and walked away.  A while later I returned to see him doing something completely stupid, and I asked him what in the name of God in Heaven he was doing.  He said, “Dad told me to do it this way.”  This was the moment when I suddenly lost all sense of rationality and screamed at the kid that as dad knew blank-all about it, he shouldn’t be interfering.

It was then that I felt the stillness of the neighbourhood, and wondered.  I didn’t need to wonder last weekend, though.  Denis and I were attempting to discuss the Great Garden Project, and this led to both of us screaming at each other.  That was when we noticed that the neighbours were having a garage sale, and that the entire group of people on their driveway had gone silent.

I mean, really, have they never heard a couple arguing before?  To avoid this situation in the future, I’ve hired Luke and his friend Brian to build the beds for me.  They’re to start this weekend by laying them out and digging the trenches for the blocks.  Then, next week they’re to fill the trenches with gravel and set up the blocks.  I can then fill one or two beds with soil and maybe plant one or two stinking carrots this season.  They will be very, very expensive carrots.

Imagine how flattered I was to have been invited to submit an article to Okanagan Arts Magazine!  Robert MacDonald, the editor and publisher, said he reads my blog, and hence would like me to write about my meteoric rise in the fruitcake business.  As I write this, I have just had a horrible day of marketing and feel like the world’s biggest failure.  However, one must persevere.

Yesterday I spent the day as a traveling salesperson, going to nine businesses in the Valley to flog my new Okanagan Fruit and Rum Bars.  I sold at two stores, two said no, and five need to be re-contacted.  Couldn’t I just win the 649 and be done with it?  However, as long as plucky Hillary Clinton is able to keep going, I shall keep going, too.  I’m sure she’s having the odd testy moment with her spouse as well.

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