This is how the writing’s gone thus far. I’ve written a total of two additional pages of my memoir of Nuttier than a Fruitcake. These were both written in one afternoon, days ago, and nothing since. I’ve started quite a few short stories, but after several paragraphs it gets very hard to maintain momentum, so I stop.

I’ve researched a lot of publications that’ll accept submissions, and have dutifully recorded their websites and what they’re about. The sad thing is that’s all, as I haven’t written a single letter to any of them.

I tried an e mail to Jennifer Schell, the editor of Wine Trails magazine, but she said their articles are all aligned with their advertisers, so no thanks for any articles.

I let Steve MacNaull, the business editor of the Daily Courier know I’d closed the fruitcake business and now planned to write. He replied “freelance writing is a tough gig”. I said obviously I like insane challenges such as 1) fruitcake and 2) writing.

I keep praying for the Muse of Creative Writing to descend upon me, but she never does. This is why I’ll be paying UBC to take the non-credit Write your Novel course this fall via distance. If I pay and have deadlines, perhaps I can finally produce something.

But in the meantime I’ve been skipping around town to all the thrift stores, finding adorable stuff to haul home. I’ve been replacing every print with an original water colour or oil, and today I found a very nice oil, a winter scene for $15. Things like that bring such joy to my otherwise drab existence.

I sent out my newsletter letting my fruitcake fans know the end of the road had arrived. Many, many people took the time to e mail me how much they loved my fruitcakes and how much they’re going to miss them. It was so nice to hear that.

Two customers ordered four of each kind, and that basically cleared all stock from my house. Now I’ll just be baking in teeny tiny normal-sized portions, using my little old faithful hand mixer. Those are the best fruitcakes anyway, and so my family and immediate friends will never feel the sting of loss.

I told Maxine Dehart, who’s always written such nice columns about my product, if she wants a fruitcake for her old mom, I’m certainly willing to make one for her. I can’t imagine certain people going without.

I had a hare brained scheme in the spring whereby I’d sell vegetables, and that’s certainly off, given the rather hilarious spindly plants in my garden. I did okay with the perennials, and that might be a bit easier to handle. Vegetables are demanding prima donnas.

The kohlrabi’s completely inedible because it has a very thick, hard rind that’s impossible to peel. I cooked one while Beverly was here and we both said this is worth growing?? No more kohlrabi’s coming into this yard, I can assure you.

And this is the beauty of having Don O Ray’s fruit stand right around the corner.