Jam Madness

I made so much jam I ran out of the jars I’d been storing all year, and had to buy a couple of cases at the Superstore.  I had about 40 pounds of apricots, so that’s a lotta cot jam, I can assure you .  However, it’ll all be eaten because it’s one of those things people expect when they come here.

You know when you go someplace where you’ve always eaten a certain, special thing, and then when you next arrive, they don’t serve it?  It causes too much trauma, so I think it’s better to make masses of jam.  I went through over 10 pounds of sugar in the process.

You’ll recall I was in some shock in June to find out that not only was Luke getting married, but it’d be in Thailand, and that I’d be in attendance, too.  Further shocks followed as the decision was made the entire family would go, and somehow cope with togetherness.

Today I’m sitting here stiff with anticipation over Nicky and the change about to occur in his life, and mine, too.  He was interviewed for some type of project management job for Telus in Vancouver, and though I hate to say it in case it doesn’t pan out, it looks quite promising.

This would mean after 26 short years of parenting I’d be a free agent once again.  It’s almost too much for a person to fathom.  I suppose prisoners freed after a long incarceration would understand my feelings the best right now.

And even if he doesn’t get this job, I can see it’s set his mind in motion for jobs with a bit of challenge.  He’s the sort of person who, even when small, we would beg to use his mouth for good instead of evil.  I had predicted he’d be a politician with that thing, and it may still occur.

I’m going to Osoyoos on Friday, because the East Indians who rent mom’s orchard are having the grand opening of their winery, Gold Hills.  My nieces Sunny and Julie will also be there because it’s Julie’s stagette weekend before her wedding.

Unfortunately, I’ll be there with a big fat stomach due to the stress of prepping Nicky for this damned interview.  You have no idea the abuse I take from that kid to get him ready for something like that.

Last night after he explained to me for the umpteenth time why he’s not going to study for an interview, I decided eating 3 bags of cookies was the best way of coping with my feelings.  He’s got the BA in psychology, not me.

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