It’s the anniversary of dear Princess Di’s early demise.  What a night that was!  It was completely unlike today, in that it was stinking hot.  Today it’s slightly cool, though sunny, but feels so much more like late fall than the last day of August!  Quite disappointing, but the garden seems to like it.  Right now the garden reminds me of a saxophone, all mellow and full-bodied.  The concord grapes are turning purple, and the pyrancantha is turning orange.

How is this for an example of a fine slap in the face?  Last Tuesday I finally bit the bullet and walked into Weight Watchers and signed up.  Each and every human being to whom I’ve since said, “I joined Weight Watchers,” has answered with, “good for you!”  Not, “But you’re far too thin for that.”  It certainly made me realize that this was a timely decision.

And then of course the adorable and funny parts of being on a diet kick in.  You know the ones.  You look longingly at food which in the past you would have considered beneath you.  My, how inviting that 2% cottage cheese now looks.  1% milk makes me salivate.  The whole thing is an interesting Zen experience, and one which I find tests me to my limits.  However, if it works, then I’ll be looking good for my High Season, which sadly, is upon me.

I had the most wonderful feedback from Monda Rosenberg, Food Editor of Chatelaine Magazine.  I had sent her samples of each of my fruitcakes, and she e mailed back that they were ‘wonderful.’  Imagine!  She also said that some of her staff do not like fruitcake, yet they loved mine.  I was pretty high for the rest of the day after that.

Unfortunately, she also said that the December issue is already made, but that I should contact them next spring, which I’ll certainly do.  I mentioned it to one of my pals from the gym, and she deftly pointed out that it was certainly a blessing in disguise not to make this year’s issue.  And she’s totally right, as I’ll be a quivering mass by this Christmas, just in supplying my current market.

It’s the Labour Day weekend, which I find odd, as it’s so early this year.  Kind of like Easter was.  In any case, it’s always the weekend to review clothing, to shun the unwanted and to make lists of what is absolutely required for the season.  To assist, I like to buy those super-fat September issues of Vogue and In-Style magazines. 

It was a lot of work, but I think this is where I am for the fall:  I have the usual 30 pairs of shoes, but really do need some basic black pumps.  The pants situation is good, but the tops situation, especially sweaters, is bad.  So, in honour of Princess Di, off I go to remedy this deplorable situation.

My friend Bev was here from the Coast for a couple of days.  I met Bev 30 years ago when we were both teachers of the deaf in Prince George.  When you meet at a young age in a challenging place like that, you bond.  In those days, Prince George was a rough and tumble kind of a mill town with winters that would stun an Antarctic penguin. So of course whenever Bev and I get together we recall old stories and laugh ourselves silly.

Living in a town with a pulp mill meant that sometimes the sulfuric, rotten egg smell would get stuck in your vehicle or home.  Actually, at 30 degrees below zero, I found that food smells, like the remnants of a burger and fries, would stay in the car for hours.  As I worked as an itinerant teacher for a while, I found the passenger foot well was the ideal receptacle for garbage.  I pitied the fool who asked for a ride in my car.

A favourite pastime for Bev and I has always been shopping, in which we heartily indulged ourselves.  When she was here, our first stop was Value Village, where would you believe, I found one of those dear, rare chenille queen-sized bedspreads.  Delirious from that, I happened upon an antique piping gun (for cake frosting) with a myriad of screw-on tips.  Now I just want to bake myself into a complete stupor, making butter cream rosettes by the hundreds.

We then sauntered into Winner’s, and spotted the sign that causes the pulse to race: Final Clearance.  Not just Clearance, but Final Clearance.  It’s like a moose call to a hunter.  We raced to the racks and when it was all over I ended up with a beautiful Josephine Chaus top for $15.00 and a summer skirt for $10.00.  If I had a roof rack I could’ve tied my purchases to the top and driven my trophies home for all to see.

It hasn’t been all joy, though.  Nicky turned 19 last weekend, and to celebrate he drank countless shots of tequila, punched his van, and broke his hand!  This perplexing display of stupidity caused him to spend two days waiting for surgery and feeling like an idiot.  The good news is that he’s sworn off alcohol, at least for now, so though a hard-learned lesson, it was a good one.

Not much forward movement occurred in the business this week, but I noticed that I have a new compulsion.  I now relentlessly count the number of boxes that hold sealed fruitcakes.  Each box holds about 30, so my goal is to have 200 boxes filled.  I believe I’m at number 104, so am consoling myself with the fact that I’m over halfway to my goal of 6,000 fruitcakes.  However, maybe I should re-count as perhaps I’ve made more than I actually thought……

Every room in our house has vents for heat and air, except one.  That happens to be the kitchen downstairs where Marilyn and I produce over 300 fruitcakes in two days.  Luckily, I still have the wonderful Monarch brand fan that my grandparents had in their house.  They bought it at the Osoyoos Hardware Store sometime around 1966.  I have fond memories of lying on their living room carpet, watching TV, fan set on high.

In those days it was often around 40 degrees in the summer.  My grandparents’ tiny house had no air conditioning, and was really poorly insulated as well.  However, we managed to survive, though I can’t imagine doing it now.  Last night we had to leave the air conditioning on all night due to the extreme heat.  At my grandparents’, we would open the windows at night and pretend that it was cool.

It’s been a good week for the business, as I received a nice e mail from Dufflet Rosenberg saying she wants to carry Totally Decadent Fruitcake at her stores this Christmas.  This means I’ll be in a store in Toronto for the first time, and can perhaps direct Toronto customers there.  This would save postage, as I know some people are shocked by what Canada Post charges for one fruitcake.

I had re-orders of the Okanagan Fruit and Rum Bars from the local wine museum, as well as Tin Horn Creek Winery in Oliver.  Wonderfully, I made contact with Monda Rosenberg (no relation to Dufflet), the Food Editor for Chatelaine Magazine.  She very kindly said she’d sample my product, though sadly the December issue is already in the can.

I also bit the bullet and asked for quotes on business cards, letter head and my coloured flyer.  As well, I ordered 5,000 Totally Decadent labels and also my bags for vacuum-sealing.  I figure there’s no longer any point in pretending that this isn’t really going to happen.  I’ve acted like that in the past, and then as you know, at the last minute I was labeling, packaging and crying.

Though it’s one of the most unpleasant things a person can do, I decided to rent a booth for one last year at the monster Christmas craft fair in November.  On the positive side of things, I asked a clerk at the downtown postal outlet for information on how I could calculate postage myself.  She very kindly said that she will accept my parcels as they are, and she’ll gladly do my my orders for me! “Ask and ye shall receive” is so true.

So, an incredibly busy and productive week’s gone by, in spite of all of us nearly keeling over from the heat.  I often think of my granny, making three or four dozen jars of jam a day in her incredibly hot kitchen.  She did this for the entire summer, seven days a week, for my mom’s fruit stand.  That’s why two days of baking a week in a hot kitchen is nothing to complain about!

I’m sitting here madder than a wet hen, as there is just boring Olympics coverage on TV today.  I don’t care a whit about soccer or basketball, so hopefully we’ll soon get into the fun stuff.  It’s funny because whenever the Olympics start I have no idea who the athletes even are.  But then I watch the heats and suddenly I’m whipped into a media frenzy and have a favourite for whom I’m cheering.

While I’m waiting for something decent, I’m killing time by making peach and apricot jam.  I already made some cherry jam, so will have a nice little cache for the winter.  I’m also marinating some chicken in yogurt, onions, garlic and a bunch of East Indian spices as I’m making tandoori chicken for dinner tonight.

I had a session with my dear mentor, Prerna today, so that helps in getting me back onto the program.  I remember once going to one of those diet centres where you meet with a counsellor weekly, and it does help.  The shame you feel in letting your counsellor down is very great.  So, I made a few promises to Prerna, and I do pray that I’ll be able to keep them.

First of all, by the end of August I want to have the ordering page of my website under control.  I also want to add a page for corporations and conventions who may want to order something adorable like my Okanagan Fruit and Rum Bar.  Prerna also reminded me that I said I would try to contact the Food Editor of Chatelaine Magazine.  Finally, I have to learn how to do my own postage calculations or I’ll be shot at the post office.

Imagine being in a line-up at the post office in December, and seeing me come along.  Last December I had all of those orders from Nova Scotia and Red Deer, Alberta.  I was at the post office every two or three days, lugging dozens of parcels of various sizes.  People were not at all impressed if they were behind me, and the postal workers also said, “Look lady.  We’ll do it this year, but if this continues you’ll have to do your own postage.”

The above tasks need to be added to the current mania that surrounds making 300 fruitcakes a week.  However, Prerna said that she may be able to wangle me onto the Food Network, and if that, or City TV or Chatelaine happen, then I had better be ready with product.  Wouldn’t that just be the most embarrassing situation to have marketed like a lunatic only to not have enough fruitcakes?

Actually, that isn’t funy as it’s one of the small business owner’s worst nightmares.  It reminds me of the dream I have from time to time where I’m about to take an exam, however I’ve never attended one class.  Or else, I’m a teacher and have been hired to teach French immersion, yet speak no French.  I’m happy to report that after 40 years I no longer dream I forgot my locker combination.

I’m now in full production, baking-mode, and it’s hell.  I’ve now set a goal of baking 6,000 fruitcakes this year.  So, anyone being number 6001 wanting a fruitcake is going to be out of luck.  Then, if I meet that goal in sales, I can take some time next January to figure out if that’s going to be my maximum.  I plan on doing this thinking on a sandy tropical beach.

In the meantime, the Okanagan is beautifully hot and sunny.  The peppers and tomatoes are prolific, and I have the most adorable baby eggplant!  I also have a couple of tiny watermelons and so much broccoli I don’t what to do with it.  Does anyone out there need about fifty pounds of Swiss chard??  It’s really quite amazing the amount of stuff even a small garden produces.

Denis’ sister Margaret, and her son Brendan, are currently here so I’m able to make meals from all the local produce.  Last night we had wild Coho salmon with a brown sugar and butter glaze, accompanied by roasted new potatoes and local corn.  For dessert I made an apricot crisp that was juicy due to the large amount of butter.  Nonetheless, a further dollop of whipping cream was required for the top.

Margaret wondered if I minded that she needed to go to Winner’s to look for shorts.  I replied that I had no difficulty whatsoever with that, and so we spent a pleasant couple of hours browsing about and getting just the absolute necessities.  I got some dear yoga pants, so comfy for lounge-wear, and Margaret got a pair of shoes and a short, dressy jacket.

Instead of being filled with impotent rage over the proposed development next door, I’ve been able to join a committee formed in our neighbourhood opposed to this.  The people who organized this have done a fabulous job of presenting the reasons why this ecologically sensitive area should not be developed.  Sadly, however, I don’t think the city council gives a damn about stuff like that.

There are all manner of creeks and ponds along Hall Road, as we’re so close to Mission Creek.  You would think that there would be some rudimentary understanding of the importance of protecting this, but apparently not.  The developer proposed putting 32 lots in right beside us, and I guess the city said, “Go ahead.  If no-one objects, you can do it.”

Thankfully, however, we appear to have joined the ranks of Canadians who’ve said they are as mad as hell, and they’re not gonna take it anymore.  It’s kind of refreshing, really, to think if a person sees something insane, that they might actually be able to at least try and do something about it.  I can’t stop the pine beetles, but maybe I can help stop the degradation of the precious marshlands around us.  Betty Krawczyk #2 is here!