As you may recall, last week I’d e mailed CBC Radio’s Sounds Like Canada show about my business. Can you believe it, but the producer left a message saying that I was one of two people chosen! She said I would be paired with a marketing student, and perhaps interviewed on the air. After leaving messages back and forth for two days, we finally spoke at length, after which she said, “We are definitely going to interview you on the air!”
I guess there’s something inherently funny about a fruitcake business, as well as the type of insane individual who would envision such a thing. And perhaps I am going mad from it, as witnessed by a dream I had in which I was constantly packing and unpacking. When I went to my favourite dream interpretation site, it said this generally denotes chaos. I guess that pretty much sums it up right now.
Not only am I going to be on CBC Radio, but I’ve also browbeaten business reporter Steve MacNaull of the Daily Courier to write another fruitcake update. Plus, there’s the upcoming article in the summer issue of Okanagan Arts Magazine! With the help of the marketing student, coupled with this flurry of media exposure, I guess it’s understandable if I’m trying to work things out even in my sleep.
It’s really just the same old thing. I phoned some people to follow up re: the Okanagan Fruit and Rum bar. Several said “No thanks.” This drives me into a tailspin of hopelessness. Then, I remember what’s to come media-wise, and my blood runs cold as I imagine the thousands and thousands of orders I’ll have to fill. This cycle continues all day until I fall into bed, exhausted.
In the midst of this, I drove home behind a car whose customized license plate read, Let Go. I read it, and thought nothing more of it. However, the words came into and out of my head for the next couple of days, and I was thinking to myself how strange a coincidence it was. Then it finally hit me that of course, this was not coincidence! It was the universe saying that I really do need to let go.
And when I do honestly and completely say and feel those words, I feel fantastic. Plus, there’s always my sainted mother giving me pep talks, such as “So what if it doesn’t work out? It doesn’t matter.” To which I beg to differ, but I understand the philosophy of thinking of the worse thing that could possibly happen.
On the up side, mom has decided to become my image advisor, as she’s sure the Ellen Degeneres show is next. However, she said I’ll need a signature look, such as Hill’s pantsuits or Martha’s tailored shirts. As I’ve just eaten an entire iced angel food cake over the past two nights, I’m voting for a muumuu for summer, and a flowing tunic for winter.