You’ll recall that the vet said the dog was too chubby and I was given a special diet food for both of the dogs.  I’ve been giving it to them for the past week, and they don’t like being on a diet at all.  They used to get their dinner at 5:00, then it was 4:30, then 4:00 and now I can’t feed them any later than 3:30 or my nerves would go.

Mojo starts at 2:30, and as I’m sitting here typing she stands beside me, whining.  It’s so pitiful yet so annoying as the dog’s still really stout and doesn’t look at all like she’s starving.  It kind of reminds me of when the kids were small and whined for nothing, and I almost went insane then, too.

I went to the airport on Friday night at the appointed time to get Nicky from his trip to the Caribbean.  He’d only been gone three weeks, but when I saw him I hardly recognized him.  He was very tanned, his hair was blonde, and he was super thin.  Apparently sleeping and living on a sailboat day and night is a lot of work because he said something always needed fixing.

On Saturday morning I handed Nicky the digital box from Shaw Cable, and it began.  It seemed straight-forward, but nooooo.  By 5:00 PM we concluded the last of four long calls to Shaw, and voila! I now have HBO, movie channels and Deutsche Welle, which is fab.  Now I can work on my German whenever I feel bored.

I received one of those e mails that makes me want to vomit.  A customer said the Okanagan Harvest Cake she’d bought was disappointing because it seemed overdone.  I felt sick.  I replied that I’d bring another over immediately, and did so the next day.

Then the nice woman replied that this one was perfect, as all previous ones had been that she’d bought over the years.  That was good, but I still feel sick about others that were made the same time as that one that are obviously dreck as well.

However, by the next day I had an e mail from a woman who’d ordered for the first time at Christmas, and wanted to order four more Totally Decadent fruitcakes as she said they were so fabulous.  So that was gratifying.

But that’s why I find the artisan food business living hell.  I just don’t know how much longer my nerves are going to be able to take it.  I mentioned it to a nice woman at the gym who suggested I should try to sell it.  But then I get all crazy and territorial thinking about it, so obviously it’s not the right thing to do yet.

Another woman from the gym took the time to come up and tell me she’d tried the chocolate bark for the first time at Christmas and loved it so much she’s sorry she tried it!  I said well look out because at Valentine’s more will be for sale out in the front office of the gym.

In the meantime, I’ll just cast my fate to the wind.  Besides, I have other more pressing concerns.  I have dinner to prepare for a 22 and a half year old who shows no signs whatsoever of leaving his sainted mother’s home.

I finally forced myself to make one of those unpleasant calls you put off because you know it’ll be horrible.  I was sick of the stupid channels I get, so I phoned Shaw and inquired how I might get movies.  It took two calls, a long time on hold each time, and caused quite a bit of confusion.

I explained it to my mom like this.  Let’s say you still have one of those old rotary dial phones.  Then you hear about all this new-fangled stuff your phone can do, so you call Telus.  They start getting excited about all of your different options, but the sad thing is when you try them, none work.  That’s because the Telus person is like the Shaw person I initially had.  They can’t understand what you’re saying to them.

The poor girl I dealt with second finally said, “But how DO you get your channels?”  I said, well I point this remote at the TV and then I click. 
But do you have the Shaw remote?
What Shaw remote?
It all became clear to the girl and she went, “Oh my God.  Okay, step 1, you need our digital box.”

Who knew?  Now I’m going to have HBO and other cool stuff and the kicker is that it’s all for $25/month less!  Why I was scared to make the call, I’ll never know.  Or do I?

On Friday night I have to go to the airport to get Nicky.  He’s been holidaying in the Caribbean since the end of December with his best friend and the friend’s parents.  They have a sailboat, and it’s moored in Grenada, so they’re sailing about down there, having fun I’m sure.

I’ve become quite accustomed to the quiet life without the ubiquitous dozen large males in the basement, hooting and hollering.  However, what can I do when he returns if he refuses to move up north for a job?  I think that’s the place for all young people starting out.

When I got my degree as a teacher of the deaf in 1978 my first job was in Prince George, and it was a great learning experience.  Living in Prince George in those days really proved the adage, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

It’s sad for young teachers, but when I started teaching at King George V Elementary School, Fridays at 4:00 found the majority of the staff at the bar.  New teachers who didn’t go were looked upon as jam tarts.  Nowadays teachers don’t dare to have any fun, ever, even if newly arrived in the reeking ice cave called P.G.   Pity.

I took Ricky to the vet to have his teeth cleaned, which was the usual soaking: $550.  Then the vet’s assistant gave me a bag of special food and said Ricky’s overweight and needs to go on a special diet.  Both Mojo and Ricky are chubby and it’s bad.

But we’re all grossly chubby, and it’s all very bad.  What to do?  In about two days I’m going to be lying on the couch, watching movies and interesting TV, and blocking out all of the negative vibes.

To avoid becoming as weak, shaky and confused as Ozzy Osbourne, I’ve been working on reducing my alcohol intake over the past while.  The body and brain just can’t process as much anymore.  I’m sorry to say, but at my age it’s time to face the fact that I can’t party like it’s 1999 for the remainder of my life.

But here’s something absolutely fantastic that happened as a result.  Now that I drink a very small amount of white wine, I can buy nice bottles of local products.  Last night I had a couple of glasses of a Gehringer riesling that was like a little bit of Heaven.

After 22 years of continuous use, the Beam built-in vacuum packed it in.  The repairman said it appeared to have been here decades prior to that, so it certainly didn’t owe anyone anything.  I now have a lovely new one, but at $700 it should be wearing a faux leopard skin coat or something.

Even as I type this the nice junk removal man is here getting rid of a pile of stuff on the driveway.  I can’t stand having refuse in the yard, though it’s a losing battle.  Most of the detritus on that pile is due to Nicky and his projects.

I don’t know why, but so far every single day of 2012 I’ve felt wild with excitement.  I read that excellent book, The Wealthy Barber Returns, and I’m suddenly all pumped with the idea of saving.  How someone who buys everything second-hand can save even more, I’m not sure.

There’s a show about cheap people on TV, and I enjoy watching it and perhaps will take some lessons from them.  Liz reminded me the other day of how we really were on the cutting edge when we were washing paper towels during lunch hour back in grade three.

Another show I watch from time to time on that same channel involves brides looking for a wedding dress.  The thing I love is that the brides are often close to 400 pounds, and they invariably choose a strapless gown.  I think I would’ve been an excellent, involved spectator at the coliseum in Rome.

Here’s an interesting thing that happened recently.  As my memory’s shot, I’ll quickly write something onto a note pad, so that I’ll remember it later.  I was on my way out this morning, and remembered a couple of things I wanted to do upon my return and jotted them down.

When I got home, I read the first word on the list, “Petersen.”  I spent about two hours wondering what in the name of God in Heaven Petersen meant.  Finally, a eureka moment.  Petersen is the local plastic surgeon with whom I have to make an appointment to see what can be done about this face.

Even though the body can be improved with fitness, and the face can be improved with a scalpel, nothing can help the memory.  It appears even words written onto a notepad no longer work, so that’s an interesting and somewhat alarming development.

But as with all challenging things, we boomers simply have to adjust and roll with the punches.

The fates are begging me to write my book about how I started this stupid business, yet I continue to ignore them.  Over the years, I’ve had a few people contact me and ask me questions about how I started.  I’ve always been willing to help and never ignore or refuse anyone.

Then today I got a nice e mail from Beverly Bruck.  She’s David Bruck’s wife, and he’s Gerry’s son.  Gerry is mom’s significant other.  There is no short cut for me to explain this relationship to you.  She would therefore be my step sister-in-law if on some Polynesian Island built on a complex matrilineal system.

Anyway, she said years ago a friend of hers was casting about for what to do with her life.  As it happened, Beverly had received an article about my business from my mom, and showed it to her friend.  As a result, the friend started an on-line cake business, too!  Hers is called Aunt Bea’s Wine Cakes, based in Virginia.

When I received that e mail, and realized I’d influenced a person’s entire life with my story, I thought this has to be a sign for me to write my memoir.  But I’ve talked of it many times before, yet for some ungodly reason, I won’t do it.  Why? 

I won’t even bother to put “stop procrastinating” on any list of resolutions, as I know I won’t do it.  One thing I’m doing that’s new is giving the dog one glucosamine and one fish oil capsule daily for her arthritis.  I don’t think that counts as a resolution, though.

I had a really nice phone call from an elderly woman who’d bought my fruitcake at the Wine Museum downtown.  She said it was very good, and she wanted me to know how much she’d enjoyed it.  It’s strange, but these calls almost always come on days when I’m mulling over how to sell a fruitcake business.

And these thoughts are crazy, as the business is finally in the black.  I’ve worked out all the kinks.  I have a set of steady customers.  But I think it’s normal to feel sick of a fruitcake business in January.  It’s the same way a farmer feels in the fall, I’m sure.

One thing that happened unnoticed by me was the closure of all the video stores.  At Christmas I thought it’d be nice to rent some movies, but then couldn’t find any of the old stores as they were all gone! I came home defeated, and the kids had to do the usual pirating.

What I’m realizing is if I want to watch newish movies, I’m going to have to change with the times, and as you know, I hate change.  But I’ll have to steel myself and make inquiries at Shaw Cable or Netlfix and see what in the heck a person of my abilities will be able to do in order to watch a new movie.

In the meantime I’ve been to the bargain section of Mosaic Books downtown, and loaded up on memoirs.  I finished two, and will work on the third today. 

Like a farmer, winter is my fallow time, and I intend to rejuvenate myself with a bit of inspirational reading.  Maybe, wonder of wonders, I’ll actually be able to force myself to start to write.