As I was showering this morning, it dawned on me that I’d forgotten to write my blog. I know this doesn’t sound like a very significant thing to forget, but when you’ve done the same thing every week for five years it does make you wonder.
You’ll recall I wrapped 300 individual pieces of bark, and apparently they went over well at the Source Office Furniture convention in Burnaby last week. There was some interest expressed by a woman from the Red Hat Society.
Have you heard of them? They’re women over 50 who run around wearing purple clothes and red hats. I’m not sure why, but I see on their site it has something to do with sisterhood. I guess that’s next. First, forget the daily and weekly routines, next join the Red Hat Society and embrace it.
I’m still working on getting labels made for the Okanagan Chocolate Bark. It was quite an ordeal settling on the colours. But now I think the bark’s going to look really nice in the half pound and one pound clear cellophane bags I bought, and then tied with cloth ribbon. Now with the labels it’ll look very sweet.
I was invited to attend an event at the Spring Wine Fest on May 1 at the Rotary Centre for the Arts. It’s one of those events wherein people sample food and wine, but don’t actually purchase it. I actually prefer those to craft fairs where you’re selling because people are scared to sample, thinking they’ll be forced to buy.
The dress at this event is black pants and a white shirt. My pal Kathy is going to help me, and I e mailed her and said I’m guessing this will be no problem. She and I are similar in that we like to have several pairs of black pants and quite a good number of white shirts on hand at all times.
But whether or not I’ll fit into any of the many pairs of pants I have is another matter. You’ll recall I was running aroung gloating and screaming “look at me!” when I lost the 20 pounds. Now I’ve made the grave error of making chocolate bark, and all hell’s broken loose.
The tough part is the scraps. When you chop up the chocolate, you get all these delicious little slivers that can’t be sold. I put them into baggies and the kids do their best at eating them. However, while I’m standing there chopping I can’t seem to stop myself from shoveling a lot of these pieces into my pie hole.
And that’s the main reason that I continue to slug it out at the gym five times a week. Last week I said to Kathy, “I like that red car out there.” There was a red BMW parked outside the gym. She said, “This one?” and I said, “No, that one,” then realized I was looking in the mirror. Kathy just screamed with laughter and we’re now on the look-out for more signs of creeping dementia.