Archive | December 2024

Doesn’t Everyone Bake Ten Batches Of Cookies?

Dec23

Because I regard my Christmas preparations as the norm for everyone, I’m always a bit perplexed and surprised by replies such as this one from my friend Penny. “Whew! Your Christmas preparations are dizzying but most admirable.” It’s the Martha Stewart in me; I guess I can’t just be average, I have to be over the top with everything. However so far all cookie recipients have been quite pleased by their assortment.

Here’s an incredibly stupid thing I did. I assumed a courier company meant faster delivery than what we were told to expect due to back-ups of parcels after the Canada Post strike. I went into Purolator on Friday morning around 9:00 and thought this way the parcels should surely arrive by Monday at the latest. They were weighed and placed into the shipping queue, I paid and said, “When will they arrive?”

“Dunno.” I said, “You don’t know? How can you not know when they’ll arrive?” After a few moments, once I was able to think clearly again, I decided to invoke the Gods of Shipping. I said to the woman, “Ya know what? I’m just gonna think positive thoughts and imagine them arriving there on time.” She then gave me a wink and said, “I think you’re right.” I felt like punching initially, but thankfully left with a Merry Christmas. Must be the season, right?

I got one of those hilarious Fart Ninjas, have you seen them? They’re motion-activated and make a few different farting sounds. I just like having it around as sometimes I forget it’s on the table and a cat jumps up and suddenly I hear “fraaap” or “poot.” Please don’t judge me, I have a very strange sense of humour. When bored I Google ‘People Get Hurt Slipping on Ice’ and other hilarious topics like that. I’m laughing now thinking about it.

This is the last blog of 2024 and as usual I’m pretty much ga ga with excitement and anticipation for a New Year to begin. I’m not making any resolutions, per se, but I do have two goals that I wish to achieve. One is to hire a Gen Z who knows WordPress to help me with it (this means doing most of it) and secondly, I want to start selling some old stuff that someone who collects may value.

It was good to have mom’s 100-year celebration in summer because she’s to turn 100 on February 25 and at this age it’s nip and tuck. Most days she’s in her nightgown and housecoat so not sure how much steam is left in the old engine. I do hope she’ll be in the mood for our Christmas Eve tomorrow night, and again for Christmas Day. Hamiltons are coming for dinner as they usually do which is great. Fred will wear his Christmas vest, made by Julie and decorated with snowmen and other related things.

I’ve had some very decent Christmas events here in Kelowna. The Crones came for dinner one night, and Calvin and I held our very successful 4th annual Christmas party. Each year another bowl of punch is added, and I think this time he made either three or four bowls, and it still wasn’t enough. This crowd can go through the liquor, which I love to see in young folks.

Sylvie and I had dinner at the Gasthaus in Peachland last night and today I’m meeting Marie downtown for Happy Hour, so life is pretty pretty pretty good here. I’m grateful for all of it, food, friends and family. Merry Christmas!

Moulting Hen Scares Coop Mates

Dec10

I noticed an awful lot of white feathers in the run and then saw that Kate was missing feathers at the nape and also under her neck. I figured it must be moulting, but then I saw one of the fluffy-feet grey hens pecking at her, and she was just standing there taking it. I did some research and as the six new hens are young and have never moulted, seeing Kate featherless in some vulnerable areas likely caused bullying.

To reduce any chance of bullying within the coop I got a handy metal fence from Sylvie which she used to corral her little dogs. It can be made big or small so makes a nice little enclosure within the coop into which I can plop Kate for the night. That sounds easy, doesn’t it? All I can say is you go into a chicken coop and try to catch a hen and then tell me about it. I hope moulting ends soon.

It’s not just chickens and people that bully anyone who’s different, as I’ve seen it with cats. I remember when I had my apartment at the corner of 10th and Hemlock in Vancouver in the 70’s. It had a fireplace which I almost never used. But I did use it enough for it to be coated in soot, and one day one of my two white cats snuck behind the screen and came out looking like a panther.

I didn’t know what to do so grabbed the cat and took her into the bathroom, held her under the tap of the bathtub and tried to get the soot off, but wetting the cat seemed to make it worse as now she appeared dark grey all over. I dried her off and set her down and then her sister arched her back and was hissing at her as though she was an intruder! So funny.

My friends the Lynchs came for lunch yesterday and liked seeing all of the Christmas decorations. I said I always do it on December 1st now because the month flies by and then you don’t get to enjoy all the sparkly lights and other adorable things. Sadly, they brought me delicious pastries from a bakery called Sweet Caroline’s in Vernon and so last evening I ate two huge marzipan-coated sponge cakes that were filled with fresh whipped cream.

Calvin and I continue with our very successful tit for tatting. I described it in my book, Okay I’ll Bite (which you should order as a stocking stuffer), but basically, it’s doing the thing the other person can’t or hates to do. I’ll make a pot roast; Calvin will put up the Christmas lights. He changes my tires; I bake him a pie. It seems to work.

This Saturday is our 4th Annual Christmas Party, so I have to shop for food because I really hate buying frozen dreck like spring rolls as the homemade stuff just tastes so much better. I told Calvin we need a double batch of punch as last year we ran out and people were coming into the kitchen with empty glasses and leaving with sad faces.

As you may recall I’m working on a memoir of my ten years in the fruitcake business. It’s ten chapters and so far, I’ve sent seven for editing, so three more to go, and I often feel like I need to take primal scream therapy or at least ingest ayahuasca. As a memoir must have a theme, and as we must understand why this person is doing the things she does, my editor will ask questions like, “you want it, but do you feel guilty about those feelings?” Never mind, I plan on giving this my best shot, just like the hen must.