I walked Arnie every single day for five years.  Somehow by year six or so, with Mojo along, it dawned on me that I shouldn’t be the only family member walking the dogs.  Sporadic attempts were made by Denis here and there, but they petered out, and soon dog-walking was a thing of the past.

However, Nicky’s a big fan of Caesar Milan, and is also a psychology major, so he very successfully put those two factors together.  He told me stories day after day about how important it is for dogs to be walked.  To his credit, over the past several months he’s also made some sporadic efforts to walk the mutts.

I finally caved and took Mojo and Ricky for a walk around the neighbourhood on Friday.  Then, much to my surprise, I took them again yesterday and today.  I’m very hopeful this is a sign of renewed adherence to daily dog-walking.  I realized how much I missed the neighbourhood, and have already enjoyed two great conversations with neighbours I haven’t spoken to in years.

A couple of days ago as I walked by one neighbour who was out raking his lawn, he said, “I hear you’re on your own.”  I explained that technically I wasn’t, given the fact Nicky lives here, but that yes, Denis had moved out.  As I continued on my walk I thought, I simply love this area because I feel people know me, and care about me.

It’s such a great neighbourhood in that it’s a lot like the small town of Osoyoos where I grew up.  In Osoyoos there are one or two key people to whom you tell a story, knowing by the next day the majority of townsfolk will know it.  It just seems an expedient way to spread news.

I was quite delighted to see that it works just like that in the Hall Road neighbourhood.  Of course there’s my blog, which I know some devoted fans read who happen to be neighbours.  Then there’s a lovely woman who goes to my gym, and who lives here, and who may also have told a person or two.  In any case, I think it’s rare to live in a neighbourhood where people still know each other.

I think another reason for the dog-walking is the great fall we’ve had.  The weather’s been so mild.  In the 20 years I’ve lived here I don’t recall snipping dahlias on October 31st.  We’ve always had frost by now in past years.

Yesterday I cut down as many spices as I could stand, as some of them, like the sage, are just plain huge.  I’m now drying it, along with rosemary, parsley and tarragon.  My plan is to grind them when they’re all nice and dry and then fill cute containers with them and give them to people as gifts.

Tonight it’s Halloween and we usually get about 5 – 10 kids.  This makes the recent purchase of the box of 125 assorted tiny chocolate bars kind of odd, doesn’t it?  I think Nicky and I are going to be feeling quite dizzy by tomorrow morning.

As you know, shopping is my hobby, so it may come as a suprise that I’ve actually just placed an on-line order for some Christmas gifts.  I’ve never done this before, as I adore wandering the aisles of stores, peering at items, and wondering if anyone really wants this piece of junk to put on a shelf.

However, as that pesky little thing called time seems to be in short supply right now, I have no time for speculative tours through stores.  As much as I’d like to touch items before buying, the items I ordered are largely electronic in nature.  Hence I actually don’t need to, nor do I even want to.  It’s all strange stuff for the kids, so who would know what it is, even if held and examined.

Now that’s saved me a bunch of time, though of course it’s warmed up the credit card for the season.  Although sometimes when one is weighing sanity against a few dollars, sanity, or vanity will quite often win.  Though I’m broke, I’ve booked a Botox treatment for my forehead because I simply can’t take it any longer.

The lack of time issue is my own fault because I’m such a poor manager of time due to being a very impulsive person.  The other day while driving I was making mental lists of all the errands and things I had to do, when the Art Knapps sign caught my eye: It’s Time to Plant Spring Bulbs!

I thought to myself, they’re absolutely right, pulled into the parking lot and went into the store.  My goodness there are a lot of early, mid and late spring tulip bulbs from which to choose these days!  I loaded up on lots of each, and then headed home to start the driveway garden preparation.

I felt kind of bad, thinking about all of the work I had told myself I’d do, but then I thought what the hey.  It was a sunny and lovely day, and I enjoyed the project immensely.  Once I’d dug out the too-large heliopsis (false sunflower), I added peat moss and Ogo Grow to the soil, then put in the bulbs.  Now I can’t wait until spring to see the show of tulips I only envision in my mind’s eye.

Flowers make me so much happier than some people do.  I don’t want to speak negatively of people, but my God I’ve been tested recently.  You’ll recall I’ve been trying to get the Lions Club to try my product.  Their newsletter-writer put an article about my products in their monthly bulletin and e mailed it to all the clubs. 

I phoned one of the members and asked if they now wanted to test my product, in light of the newsletter’s article.  He was like, “Newsletter? Article?”  and I realized I have a tough demographic to work with here.  However, equally as tough is trying to pin the stores down on when they wish to order.  It’s kind of embarrassing as customers e mail and phone me asking, “When will your fruitcakes be in the stores?” and I’m like, “I don’t know.”

But like some kind of lunatic, I just keep baking away, praying for the God of Fruitcake Sales to help me.  One of these days, my big break’s gonna come, and then you’ll all be like, “I knew her when.”

I used to feel bad about all the things I’ve bought over the years that were never worn.  A few years ago I was on a suit mania, and bought a navy Liz Claiborne pant suit.  I never wore it, and now that the pants are much too large, I gave them to the thrift shop.  I still have the jacket, but God knows if I’ll ever wear it.

Recently I’ve grown philosophical about the items that are rarely or never worn.  When I think of the expensive hobbies some people have, such as golfing, I think shopping is actually quite cheap.  Also, there’s no replacement for the joy I feel as I skulk the aisles, looking for that elusive item.  Then there’s all the fun of trying stuff on, and finally the kill, which arrives at the cash register.

When viewed as a hobby, I think shopping makes a lot of sense.  We have hobbies because they’re a way for us to get our minds onto something we enjoy.  I practically whooped with delight on Friday as I found a pair of brand new, grey suede Liz Claiborne pumps for $10.00.  These days it’s rare to achieve that type of adrenalin rush for that little money.

I packaged and shipped an order of fruitcakes to an old customer, Stongs Market on Dunbar Street in Vancouver.  I have new labels for both cakes, so I’m hoping that won’t throw people.  However, the little white box is the same, and it still says Nuttier than a Fruitcake on it, so let’s hope for the best with that.

I’m continuing to chip away at the baking day by day.  Some days I have to practically get out a gun and put it to my head to make myself walk down those stairs.  However, once I throw the butter into the big mixer, add the sugar and turn it on, I get into the rhythm of it and seem to manage to make at least 50 fruitcakes each time.

Nicky’s helping me by putting the front and back labels on the boxes, which is great.  Then when orders come in I simply grab those labeled boxes, and can proceed to put the fruitcakes into them.  I’ve learned that bandaging my fingers prior to starting saves a lot of wear and tear on the cuticles.  You have no idea the kinds of things one learns from an artisan food business.

In this month’s Martha Stewart Living they have an article about glass-blown balls made in the last centurey, called witches balls.  They were individually blown by workers who toiled in extreme heat, 12 hours a day, six days a week.  So, if all I have is torn cuticles from the boxes, I should just consider myself very lucky.

Although I have to be careful about the euphoria of feeling lucky because it can immediately lead to an unnatural desire to hunt through the thrift store for that Joseph Ribkoff for under $10.00.  My mind immediately associates happiness with shopping, so if I get too happy, I’m off to Value Village.

Sadly, like any true addict, the converse is true.  Feeling upset?  I can’t think of a better antidote than an hour or two at the Salvation Army Thrift Store.

I was just downstairs and heard Nicky and his long-time friend Jordan, talking.  Nicky said, “I weighed myself, and I was like, 208 – yay!”  I was just weighing myself as he was saying that and thinking how funny it is because they’re both into body building and are therefore happy when their weights go up.  Of course my response to a weight gain is the opposite.

Because of this inane body building, Nicky drinks glasses of vile whey mixed into milk twice a day, and eats like a horse.  I say cautionary things like, “well, if you get too huge it’s not nice either, is it?” hoping he’ll stop prior to attaining the George Atlas physique.  By then our food bill will be in the thousands of dollars per month I guess.

I’ve been buying pumpkin pies all week, and Nicky consumes one nightly.  Today we’re driving to Osoyoos to visit mom and Gerry for Thanksgiving dinner, so hopefully he’ll fill up there as best he can.  I hope she remembered the whipping cream.

Last week I was fortunate enough to have the Lions Club put me into their bulletin, which goes to around 400 clubs.  I haven’t heard a word from any of them, but will follow up somehow.  Sometimes I feel like the laziest entrepreneur on Earth, as even typing those words makes my heart sink.

But in small business, the follow-up e mail or phone call can often be the thing that makes the deal happen.  It’s just that it’s so painful, that I find myself circling the task, coming ever closer.  First I have to make a cup of tea.  Then perhaps I notice a perennial that absolutely should be pruned.  I decide to look for photos that I could put into frames that I bought months ago.

Finally, I’m ready and I make the call, and usually people are surprisingly receptive.  I wonder why marketing remains so unpleasant, but I think a really large part of it is the times you do get rejected.  Nobody likes rejection, so once it’s occurred you try to avoid it.

Today I roasted a huge amount of almonds for the Okanagan Harvest Cakes and also prepped the fruit that I use.  It’s a finicky recipe because before I can bake with it, I have to have the fruit prepped, meaning the dried apricots, pears and apples have to be cut into small pieces.  Then the mixture of that, plus raisins, dates and pineapple get cooked in a bit of apple juice.

Once that’s done, I freeze the bag for when I’m ready to bake.  But that bag makes just 14 cakes, so imagine how many times I’m dicing dried fruit and cooking it.  I think that’s why when people ask if I want to expand my business I look at them without speaking for a moment as I collect my thoughts.

I realize that I have the stamina to make 3,000 fruitcakes in a year.  But anything more than that will be cause for a banshee-like scream to come from my kitchen as I have chopped so much fruit I’ve gone mad.  If I do get some orders from the Lions, I’m seriously looking at this as a way to make my business valuable to some energetic person who may someday wish to become Nuttier than a Fruitcake.

 At my age I find I’m able to do so many different things, yet remain defeated by technology.  Today no e mail accounts will open, even though I’m supposedly connected to the Internet.  It’s the kind of thing that makes me want to weep because I have no idea what to do.

If faced with a baking or cooking dilemma, I have no problem trouble-shooting it.  Sauce too thin?  I just remove the lid and allow evaporation to solve the problem for me.  Fruitcakes sticking to tins?  Cut and fashion parchment paper and the situation is solved.

However when something’s wrong with the computer, I have to just sit here, looking as dumb as Paris Hilton in a serious interview.  And I certainly can’t wake Nicky at 6:30 on a Sunday morning and ask him for help.  I recall our trip to Germany whereby I had to ask him a few times on the plane how to figure out the movie remote.  That didn’t go well.

On the positive side, sales are going really well this year.  Quality Greens will starting carrying my fruitcakes next week, and I received confirmation from Edible BC in Granville Island Public Market that they’ll be ordering again.  So all’s well on the business end of things.

The baking’s going surprisingly well, too.  I’m forcing myself to bake four batches, or approximately 52 fruitcakes a day. I also got all the existing stock organized and labeled, and feel somewhat in control.  It’s a strange feeling for me because usually I do the entire business from my gut.

Perhaps after six years I’m figuring out how to avoid a complete nervous breakdown by December 15th.  The Lions Club is kindly putting an article in their bulletin this week to all clubs in Canada!  If I do start getting orders from them, then I can assure you I’ll be thanking God on my knees that I got myself somewhat organized this year.

You know how I love all the women at The Woman’s Place fitness centre.  A couple of weeks ago I bought a couple of jars of honey from a woman who has bees, and who’ll provide me with a hive next spring.  Her bees forage in Okanagan Mountain Park behind her house, so the honey packs a real punch.  You can taste the sage and it’s really strong and delicious.

So last week I told her I’d like two more jars, and asked if she’d like a fruitcake in exchange, which she did.  Bartering is a great way to sample local artisans’ wars.  Now I have two jars to eat, and two to give as gifts.

Right now my life consists of the gym and baking.  The house is a filthy mess, but I have neither the time nor the energy to deal with it.  I’m pretty tired of cleaning by the time I leave my basement kitchen every afternoon.  but you know I have no-one to blame but myself, as I’m the only who insisted I wanted to become an artisan baker.