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……