A couple of weeks ago I was proud of my tulips as they were already poking up a good three or four inches. Now imagine my dismay at seeing those stalks completely frozen as last night it was minus 10. For me it’s an aesthetics problem but for farmers climate change is a disaster we can now witness in real time in the Okanagan.

Because it was so balmy all fall the trees and grapevines were humming along, no thought of preparing for winter. Then in January within a day or two it was minus 30 degrees which has reportedly killed almost every grape, cherry and peach in the Valley.

And now with the low snowpack we’re told to expect a major drought, and then add a possible heat dome in summer and we’ll have ravenous forest fires coming toward us again.

So as usual I’m happy I save that paper towel that I used for drying lettuce to reuse it for something else, and proud to see used plastic wrap sitting in the drawer waiting to wrap a leftover. Then I read about the billions of tons of waste in the oceans thanks to cruise ships, or the mountains of discarded unsold fast fashions in the landfills, and wonder if my efforts might be in vain.

Never mind. We all have to do whatever we can, wherever we can. And speaking of which, Elsa and I are going to hunt for treasures tomorrow, followed by lunch at Chutney on Pandosy Street. Though God knows all of the lunches I’ve eaten of late have decided to remain on my stomach so that I perpetually appear to be seven months pregnant.

I don’t need to be out eating and wasting time given the enormous amount of projects I have before me. I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I’ve compiled favourite newsletter articles into a book, and have named it Okay, I’ll Bite. Now I need to find a genius to format it and probably an artist for the cover and some cartoons, then off to Kindle Direct Publishing. If I sell two or three copies, I’m fine with that.

I’m writing a second eBook on starting a home-based baking business based on the Nuttier than a Fruitcake experience. To prepare I’m reading old emails I sent to mom and they’re quite hilarious because they’re not only updates on the business, but stories about life with adult children in the home. I’m glad I blocked some of that out.

Not content with the world of e publishing, I decided to get rid of stuff I no longer need, and if it’s of value, to try and sell it. I started with the old Brio wooden train tracks which I set up with a few trains and photographed, then will put it on Facebook Marketplace. I have a garbage bag filled with Lego that I plan to get rid of the same way. I do give a lot to thrift, but these items might bring in a bit of dough, and that’s always good.

I had a very nice lunch with Denis last Friday. He came from Midway arriving at noon and stayed until 2:30 which was rare but turned out to be a very good visit. He loved the chicken souvlaki, roasted potato, tzatziki and Greek salad I’d made us. It’s good to have a decent relationship with an ex when there are kids involved as let’s face it only the other partner who knows exactly what’s up with a kid.

This cold snap isn’t just bothering fruit it’s also making the hens mad as we haven’t had one single egg for at least six weeks. Everything’s angry at this strange weather.

Was the person who wrote Groundhog Day retired, because that’s pretty much the way my life is. There’s a definite sameness to my days, and I think back on my gramma when she was my age, and think our lives are not all that dissimilar.  She’d make breakfast, do dishes, make beds, vacuum, make lunch, do the dishes again, then was quite happy to sit in the living room smoking her Matinees while watching her soaps for the rest of the afternoon.

In my case you can substitute YouTube for T.V. and the result is pretty much the same.  I like to fool myself into thinking I’m learning something, and at times there’s a documentary that does teach me a fact or two, but the majority of it, according to my algorithm, is true crime and what kind of crap Trump is up to.

Then there are the on-going lunches which I love to do. My friend Lona who used to work at Rucastle and Schiller was here on Tuesday, and as she has four books on Amazon, I needed her valuable advice on my vanity project. It appears I’ll have to shell out several hundred dollars for the formatting as my book has a lot of pictures and needs someone who knows what they’re doing. As you know, this isn’t me.

Yesterday Elsa and I went to thrift, then returned for lunch and had leftover spinach quiche. I bought a painting, then didn’t like where we’d hung it, and today managed to redecorate my bedroom. I hung the new painting over my bed, then realized the bedspread was all wrong so returned to my old green leaf theme. Now I walk into my room every few minutes just to admire my own genius.

Marie’s a stalwart when it comes to lunch. A couple of weeks ago I thawed and heated up a soup I’d made after Christmas with the turkey carcass. To jazz it up I added some really freaky looking purple Japanese yams. Anyway, suffice to say we choked it down and Marie was brave enough to eat all of it with just a hint of surprise at the inferior lunch being presented. 

And then I’ve walked Mission Creek with Sharon, and had coffee with John Patterson, so my life ticks along in a comfortable groove. Sharon and I meet at the same place and do the same walk each time. John and I always go to Specialty Bakery, and we get a deep-fried donut of some kind (he goes for the apple fritters) and we have coffee. I’m a creature of habit so all of this is good.

To say mom’s a handful is like saying a rabid dog loose in a daycare would be a problem. But even here we have predictability. In my daily call to mom she informs me the women who come daily at 9:00 are really not needed. Mom said she explained to one of them the other day they don’t really do a lot for the money she’s paying. I said how did Karen take that then? Mom said oh she totally agreed with me.

They’re good, eh? A company with workers trained to work with the elderly. It’s a help to me as mom lives to talk. I’m like my dad, I’m good with silence. So even if these women come for one hour a day and do nothing but talk, it’s worth it to me. And of course no matter what mom says I know they make the bed, dress her, do the dishes, make her coffee, etc. in that hour. Saves my mental health quite cheaply.