Thank God for U.S. Politics

If you’re interested in politics, I bet like me, you thought oh no, once Biden’s elected that’s it for anything of note to occur in the U.S.  Aren’t we all laughing at ourselves now?  I’ve become one of those news-consuming zombies roving from You Tube clip to You Tube clip, searching for the juiciest piece of meat I can find. 

And thank God for that as there’s not an awful lot to do.  Yesterday I raked pine needles blown down from a windstorm and thought, wow, that was a busy day.  Even though there’s not a hint of winter here, I mostly stay inside pretending because it’s January, that’s fine.

I got a nice colouring book and set of felt pens for Christmas so have been spending hours a day at it, choosing colour combos and trying hard to stay within the lines.  The life of the retired person, during a pandemic, in winter is a toughie to embellish.

Last week when I visited mom she asked me to go downstairs to check and see if everything was okay.  I went down and noticed the root cellar door was open and there was the sound of water running.  I turned on the light and saw a tap that was left in the on position, dumping water down the dirt wall causing a minor mudslide.

This disgusting and grotty room has freaked me out since childhood, and I really wish mom would find a way of getting rid of it.  She likes to patiently explain that seventy years ago she had no fridge, so that’s why it was there.  And I usually reply but now that we actually have a fridge, must we also have this dirt sided room in the house?

And it being Osoyoos and all, for some reason the exterior irrigation system’s pipes are turned off inside this room.  How someone deemed this to be a sensible idea I do not know, but we’re kind of stuck with it, probably for another seventy years.

Last fall I ordered some giant dahlias from Ferncliff Gardens in Mission so that’s something positive upon which to focus.  As well the people who’ll do the piping from my well to the house are coming tomorrow to measure and figure it all out, so that’ll be exciting as the new season begins.

Today I had some fun in that I watched baby Justin while his mom went out and his dad was busy with work.  He’s now 11 months old and so adorable and funny.  But my God that’s an easy baby compared to my own two.  I’d given him a few pieces of orange in his high chair and was making myself some toast when I turned to see he’d fallen asleep.

I carried him downstairs and put him into his crib and he didn’t move a muscle.  People often say skipping straight to grandparenthood would probably be best, but it just doesn’t work.

You may recall I was hoping to get a standard dachshund puppy, but they’re now $2800 so I decided if I love the breed so much I should give back and adopt an adult that’s been rejected.  God knows I’ve had difficult dogs who I raised from puppyhood, so how much worse could it be?

Hoping for a Better Year Ahead

A lot of interesting things happened to me in 2020, aside from the usual pandemic.  As you may recall I was hit by a flying truck tire, many things such as the washing machine and built-in vacuum broke, and I got Frieda the menacing dachshund.  My only sibling died and I became a grandmother for the first time.  It’ll be a while before we forget 2020.

But that’s last year, and so I want to focus on what wonderful things may occur in this new one.  Because of how traumatizing each month of last year was, I haven’t bothered with a single resolution because life has a way of slapping those out of our hands.

Sadly I ate like a horse over the holidays and so that’s one area that needs correcting.  Right now I’m staring at a half-eaten bag of chips and recalling last night’s entire box of After Eight mints.  And all this after watching a program about the dangers of sugar to the old liver.

One area of tremendous joy has been a sewing project.  I bought two curtain panels for $4.00 each at Value Village the other month but they were about six inches too short.  Recently I found a complimentary fabric and decided to lengthen the panels by sewing a border onto the bottom.

To make everything look all bespoke-ish and not like I lengthened too short curtains, I covered some throw pillows and the seat of a bamboo chair with the same fabric and it looks ritzy and nice.  The joy of accomplishment.

On Monday Denis is coming to take down the outside Christmas lights and I’ll get rid of the tree.  On Thursday Leon’s Furniture is delivering a couch I ordered a couple of months ago.  It was adorable as they kept phoning and wondering when I’d like to take possession of it.

In a call about a month ago, the poor woman asked in a plaintive voice, “Is it because of Christmas you don’t want it delivered?” and I said yes plainly it was.  In fact I recall telling the woman receiving the couch at this time would push me right over the edge.  It being the Year of Covid, she didn’t flinch and said fine, no problem.

However a few days ago when they called they did the old “Your couch is sitting in our warehouse” IE implying it’s in their way, so I said fine, deliver it.  Once the tree’s out, that’s exactly where the couch will go, right under the large windows.  I’m quite excited about it now.

It’s kind of an off-white which is a bit dangerous with the animals, so I figure when I’m here alone (99% of the time) I can covered it with a blanket.  But I also want to get throw pillows to tie into the existing rattan couch, so that’ll be an excellent project as I scour the thrift stores for either the pillows ready made, or a fabric to cover them with.

And that folks is how tiny my life is after the shocks of 2020.  I think it might be best to think small, and if nothing bad happens, hey, it’s an excellent year.  Margaret and I are heartbroken not to be off to the Yucatan as we love to do, but that’s okay.  Once we’re all released from this we’ll enjoy it all the more, just as I will do when the couch arrives.

Almost Christmas

Because I’ve learned the hard way, I never enter a room prior to turning on the light.  When you own small dogs, that kind of reckless choice can mean a foot caked in dog feces, or a wet sock.  Neither is nice.  I just mention this as I very nearly went into my guest bedroom for something without turning on the light, and went whoa, better be safe with Frieda living in this house.

Margaret came over for dinner last night and I said to her ya know, I’m gonna miss covid.  Next year if I don’t want to do something, what can I say, covid?  And the person will go but with the vaccine it’s all safe to do.  Then what?  I won’t have the convenience of replying to things I don’t want to do, “um ya know, covid”, and they nod in agreement.

Now that Christmas is very nearly upon us, I’ve discovered that I wasted an awful lot of time and now have to shop in desperation for the last few things, and also start baking.  Yes, start.  Most people have completed all their baking, but not here.  Why?  Covid.

Kidding.  I’m just a lazy, procrastinating slob.  But speaking of lazy, Nicky said he wanted used cross country skis, so I went on-line and researched and found a pair with boots that might work, however the person said you really must try them on.  I told Nicky who said he found it unnecessary to try this stuff on, and said to forget it!

The family’s certainly setting new low bars for covidness.  I think the kid blew it, as he could’ve said “covid” as the reason he couldn’t possibly take the time to try on the boots and skis.  I still would’ve been mad, but maybe less so.

Do you see how we’ll miss covid next year?  Every single thing we won’t want to do will involve thinking of some convoluted reason.  Life will be harder.

Louie had surgery on his anus to have a small tumour removed and is in good spirits as a result.  I was worried about the anaesthesia as on two prior occasions, albeit with a different vet, he came home a dishrag and remained like that for five days.  This time he came home feeling great so I was quite relieved.

The cats have insisted on bringing large rats into the house, sometimes dead, sometimes not.  The other morning one was hiding behind the piano which I then moved and snap crackle pop brave old Louie had grabbed the rat and bit and shook it to death.  It was too large to pick up with a paper towel as I would’ve vomited, so needed to get a shovel from outside.

More racket ensured as Frieda was hell bent on knocking down all the plants to get behind the credenza in the entrance.  I kept telling her to stop it saying there’s nothing there as I thought she was just smelling the old dead rat but no.  Soon after there was screaming and a cacophony of noise and plop, another dead rat thanks to our hero Louie.

You’ll recall I had the dead Stellar’s Jay sitting in my toilet a few months ago, and now the rats, so I hope the cats will move on to a new, smaller target for their nightly fun.  Now besides turning on lights to avoid dog messes, I have to be wary of rat carcasses.  Oh well, it’s all part and parcel of 2020 isn’t it?  Have a Merry rat free Christmas!

More Tense Times

It’s quite the year, isn’t it?  Now the American president is refusing to accept the election results, and the rest of the world is left scratching their heads.  We thought the election was the end of the idiocy, but nopers, this guy just keeps on coming with stupid remarks.

But of course we all secretly thank him because he, along with bright moments like Season Four of The Crown, and egg nog showing up in the stores, is what’s keeping our brains from drying up completely during this pandemic.  We may all rail against Trump and his autocratic musings, but hey, in January we’ll be back to observing a steady hand at the wheel, and where’s the fun in that?

Today of all days I’m trying particularly hard to remain in the present moment, as tomorrow Louie has to have surgery on his anus.  A sensitive area, to be sure.  The vet examined him and said a small tumour there has to come out, so I’ve had to make my peace with the fact the dog’s going to have a bad day or two.

The worst of it will be in the morning when there’s no food, a most shocking outcome for a dachshund.  After that comes the terror of being dropped at a busy vet hospital on an empty stomach, his mother nowhere in sight.  That’s the part that I have to try to remain calm about.

It seems 2020 wants to keep handing out the bad news until the very last day.  But compared to poor people who’ve lost their businesses or their elderly family due to covid, it’s not a lot to complain about.  Imagine those who couldn’t be with a family member at the end of their lives; it’d be unconscionable for me to carry on over the dog.

And yet.  Fortunately I’ll have Frieda and the cats to hang with, and my pal Marie’s coming over with her guitar and we’re going to set up the microphone I bought but was too afraid to try.  It comes in a box, and may need some batteries or something else even more scary so I’ve just left it alone, waiting for someone brave to come and help.

Because we live in a low covid zone, our lives don’t seem as affected as those in the Lower Mainland, which is lucky.  Today I went to Value Village as it’s 30% off for seniors on Tuesdays, and it was pretty full.  It was a great day, as I got some curtains for my bedroom for $8.00 for the pair.

I figured since we’re all running around with masks anyway, this’d be the perfect time to get Invisalign to straighten my lower teeth.  Have you noticed Rudy Guiliani’s lower teeth?  Mine aren’t quite that bad, but why wait until they are?  It’ll cost a fortune, but what the hell, I’m not going to Mexico in February.  Sob.

I can report I’ve written 18 pages of my memoir of the fruitcake business, and man, is it ever hard.  Did you know a memoir has to be written in scenes, just like a novel?  Me neither, but I’m learning a lot about writing scenes and hope I can master them as allegedly one needs about 60 of them.  My God.

Being the lazy slob that I am, days go by when I don’t go anywhere near it, and then to make myself feel better I say it’s fine, we’re in a pandemic and we have to take it easy on ourselves.  It works like a damn whenever I want to feel fine with doing nothing.

Tense Times

One week from tomorrow is the American election, and I don’t know about you, but I’m ga ga with anticipation and hope for a happy result.  In Canada when there’s a huge early voter turnout it means the public is voicing their displeasure at the current government and a change is coming.  Let’s hope that’s what the early voting in the USA means, too.

In the meantime, the year 2020 continues to surprise.  On Friday we had heavy snow, which is the earliest I’ve ever seen in my thirty years at this house.  I had to get Nicky to haul the fig tree into the garage in a blizzard which must be a shock to a Mediterranean plant.

My fridge is old and ready to break so I ordered a new one at Rona about a month ago and they said delivery would occur around November third.  Today some nice person phoned to say nopers, it’s now coming February third.  I said to him, ya know, given all that’s occurring this year, I’m neither upset nor surprised.

The City has now phoned three times regarding the water meter they want to install, and I keep telling them one day I’ll get a well.  Now that it’s snowed I contacted the drilling company and if they can’t do it until spring (why am I not shocked at that) then the City will just have to wait.

A few days ago I spent an hour and a half clowning around with baby Justin who’s now just over eight months old, so he’s crawling and pulling himself up to standing whenever and wherever he can.  Of course he’s brilliant and adorable, so it’s a nice way to spend time in the Covid, snowy, no-product-delivery days we’re in.

I performed all of my fall rituals: I put ripe figs into jars with brandy syrup, took out the dahlias for winter storage and planted early tulips.  I filled an entire bed in the vegetable garden with garlic cloves, so I’m hoping for a bounty next July.  Less fun was hauling the hoses into the garden shed and pulling out the muddy stakes I used for the tomatoes.

On the good news side of things, I decided to make a very serious attempt at writing the memoir of my time in the fruitcake business.  I found old notes of when I tried to do this in the past, so it’s obviously something I must do.  I’m fortunate I have all my blogs from those years as well as the newspaper and magazine articles, all of which will be needed to jog my memory.

Yesterday Margaret and I went to the farmer’s market held at the East Kelowna Community Hall.  A nice woman had cards laid out, and we could pick one to get some advice about our futures.  My card said “New Career” and she explained it means any new project, and I said oh my God that’s so wonderful because I’ve just started writing my memoir.

Steve MacNaull, a super nice journalist formerly of the Kelowna Daily Courier, wrote such a nice post about me three years ago mentioning my blogsite which I somehow had missed.  I copied and pasted it into my Nuttier than a Fruitcake Facebook page so you can read it there.  In any case, you need to watch that space for news of the memoir’s progress, should there by any.

Prepping for Thanksgiving Dinner

Thanks to having my car returned to me after nearly seven weeks, I’m independent once again.  I spent the last few days picking up those Thanksgiving items one needs such as Brussels sprouts and yams, and I found a nice small ten-pound turkey.

I’m making the usual pumpkin pie but I wanted chocolate as well and found some decent items to add to our dinner.  One can never consume too much sugar at a family event. 

My favourite thing to do in the evenings as I watch TV is to slam back pounds of keto chocolate delights I make for myself.  Just now I made keto peanut butter cups and those will be one of the highlights of this evening’s activities.

These activities include making cocktails and watching shows like Modern Family and Schitt’s Creek.  I’ve recently started colouring again.  In other words, a very good use of my time.

Another excellent use is baking and cooking, which I do every day.  I had my group of women, which I call The Crones over the other day for a birthday party, and they were happy with my efforts.  I didn’t tell them, but I tried making an angel food cake with gluten-free flour and it was a mess which I had to throw out, and then thank God I had an angel food cake mix in the pantry.

I’m still waiting to see if I can actually get a well, so in the meantime I just have to wait as there’s not a thing I can do about it.  As I said in the last blog, we’re waiting for the shorter truck to become available given the area where I can drill is so small.

Most people are very perplexed as to why a person would disconnect from the City of Kelowna’s water system and pay to have a well installed.  I just have this crazy dream wherein water is so expensive people stop watering, and yet here it’ll be a verdant oasis where I can grow masses of dahlias and garlic and run barefoot throughout, dogs in tow.

In the meantime my hanging basket is looking great, as are the containers of snap dragons which I grew from seed.  Now I have so many ripe figs it’s not possible to eat them all so I have to figure out what else one does with them.  Fun!

I realize without tap dancing or singing lessons I have to make my own fun this fall and winter, so feel very glad I began the habit of meeting friends for hour-long walks and talks.  That’s been such a nice aspect of Covid.  Once the smoke cleared October was really sunny and warm so that’s made walking pleasant and appealing.

Marie figured out the mall is unlocked before regular hours for mall walkers, so that’ll be a great destination for truly cold and snowy days.  I found a couch at Leon’s Furniture which I bought, so walking in the mall can be a bit of a danger as well.  Just so you’re aware.

It should be an interesting Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow evening with Denis and the kids, as Luke decided he and Jan should sell the condo and move in with Denis.  They’ll be coming over here after a full day of packing and unpacking so the moods of all will be fascinating to observe.

As The World Turns

It’s kind of cruel for Mother Nature to be throwing all of this fire at us during the Covid situation.  Those of us in the West are choking on American smoke from the fires south of us.  Yesterday I felt a bit nauseated and headachy from the filth in he air.

But my pal Marie brilliantly figured out we could still do our walk as it could be done inside the mall which has a secret door unlocked for mall walkers.  We got there at 9:00 on Sunday morning and all the stores were closed and we could easily lap Orchard Park Mall three times to come in at just under three kilometres.

A lot of the stores now require masks, so I went into Dollarama and found your basic black model.  However then I noticed people (women) wearing adorable masks and decided I want to have a cute mask wardrobe.  To that end I purchased a navy floral one for more casual occasions and will continue to be on the lookout for spiffy masks.

You may find this hard to believe, but my car is still being repaired after the “tire incident.”  It was going to be ready last week, and then they called to say surprise, we found a dent in the transmission oil panel, so it has to be towed to Volkswagen for them to fix that, then back to the body shop for painting.

Before they discovered that mechanical fault, the bill was $9500, so I can imagine Volkswagen’s bill will be adding a good amount onto the final bill.  I sure hope my car’s returned in mint operating condition after all that time and money.

And then I had to fight like a maniac to get a loaner vehicle through BCAA.  They had okayed $1000 worth of car rental, which I’d used up, but I had been told by the body shop my BCAA person hadn’t okayed the repair for a good week or more.  I brought this up to a manager at BCAA who kindly okayed another week of a loaner for me.

So one would think the car, the forest fire smoke, and the overall Covid stuff would be enough angst, but no.  My washing machine broke, and I had one delivered from Best Buy.  Sadly, the young man driving the gigantic truck wasn’t aware of how tall the vehicle was and tore a huge branch off one of my ponderosa pines.

Prior to this the septic needed pumping, several drains were plugged and needed snaking, and the people digging the well for me discovered we could’ve all been blown up as the gas line runs right under the area where they were going to dig.

As one must be 100 feet from the septic tank and obviously not on City property or on a gas line, there’s a teeny tiny X where a well could be drilled, and it’s now necessary for them to get a shorter drill truck in there as they had to move their project up a metre and my fence is an impediment.

A harder well drilling project could never be envisioned so I’ll be quite surprised if I do get my own well.  But given what I’ve learned in life if I don’t, it means the fates decided one wasn’t necessary.

Plus from all the strange things that’ve occurred so far in 2020 just surviving is good, never mind getting anything extraneous.

Nearly Killed

A couple of weeks ago I was driving home from spending the night with mom, motoring along, thinking of nothing in particular, when out of the blue I saw a cylindrical object spinning toward me.  I had no idea what I was looking at until the very last moment when I realized it was a tire.

Ka-wham! The tire collided with my car with a huge force, and I pulled over to the side of the highway.  A woman ahead of me had been hit as well, and a woman who gave me her name as a witness was parked behind me.

I tried to get out but the driver’s side door wouldn’t open, so I had to clamber out the passenger door.  I walked to the front of my dear Volkswagen Jetta and my heart sunk as I saw a lot of the bumper, fender and hood were actually gone.  I was peering at my left front tire.

The nice woman who acted as a witness pointed at the pickup truck parked beside the highway a distance away, facing in the opposite direction, and missing his rear left tire.  As it turned out his tire came loose as he was driving, and collided with two vehicles, mine getting the worse of it.

I got a ride to a fast food joint in Westbank from a nice volunteer fireman, and then my pal Elsa picked me up and drove me home.  Now I wait for my car to be repaired, as that’s allegedly the plan as it wasn’t written off.

Two days later a 24-year-old man was killed in Ontario when a tire came off a car and collided with his vehicle, so I know I was lucky.  The fireman said had the tire bounced and gone through my windshield I would be dead.

So I guess that’s a good news, bad news kind of story isn’t it?  Kind of like my new plan to get a well, given the City of Kelowna appears unable to manage their way out of a paper bag.

I attended the council meeting wherein I learned the water utilities manager was shocked at the amount of water used by this agricultural area of Kelowna, and also that he was “surprised” by the hot weather in July.

The reason for my attendance was to try to understand how the City thoroughly botched the takeover of our former water district.  Once I left there, I realized my only recourse was to get my own well, and that’s currently in progress.

I have to thank the City though, as if they hadn’t imposed once-weekly watering restrictions in mid-July after a very wet and cold spring, I wouldn’t have known the City is run by a bunch of bozos and might have signed up for their system which comes complete with a water meter.

Hence the good news, bad news scenario here.  The bad news?  You cannot water.  The good news?  You can get a well and water yourself into a stupor.  Not that I would gentle reader, as I’m a careful conservationist with our resources.  I just can’t work with stupid people.

The Bat

The other morning I went outside and saw a brown blob near the door so went for a closer look and saw it was a bat.  Frieda tried to sniff it, but I said “Leave it!” and she listened, so we came into the house as I pondered what to do about the bat.  I was reluctant to try to pick it up with the shovel in case it wasn’t really dead.

I did some watering and came in for a break and so Frieda took the opportunity to be picked up and put on my lap where she likes to bite my nose and chin.  She has a long pointy nose and she likes to poke it into eyes and use her tongue to enter mouths as quick as a wink.

I put her down after a few minutes of this assault, and idly looked out the kitchen window expecting to see the bat, but it was gone.  I then freaked as I wondered if Frieda had eaten it, then spread her rabies-filled filth over my face.

It didn’t take me long to blame George the cat for bringing this bat as he’s a voracious hunter, and is covered in sores and scabs all spring and summer long from his battles with cats and birds.  I Googled rabies, and thought maybe the cat should be vaccinated.

I e mailed the vet who replied any pet that came into contact with the bat should be vaccinated, but I replied I didn’t know which pet, if any came in contact.  I also said I didn’t know for sure if it was eaten by a bird, or if it wasn’t really dead and flew away.

After that I went into a frenzy of yes, the cat’s going to get vaccinated and no, that’s too toxic for the cat.  So I decided my best course of action would be research.  Luckily at my age I have amassed a small team of professionals at my disposal.

In total I canvassed two pharmacists, one RN, two chiropractors, a Reiki master and a retired GP.  All felt the odds of rabies was quite low, and so after two days of wrestling with my conscience, I did nothing at all.  To date, we’re all still alive, no one foaming at the mouth.

Although I might have to amend that somewhat, given the rabid response I’ve had toward the City of Kelowna.  We were on the South East Kelowna Irrigation District for decades, but now have been taken over by the City, and in their first year of trying to manage this area, we were given no notice or explanation and put on one day a week water restrictions.

I attended the council meeting on Monday, and you’ll have to excuse me but the only apt term I can find to describe it would be a shit show.  The mayor and council happily take the word of their manager and not a soul says to this person, “But with 86 million dollars, if nothing else, surely you could’ve afforded better communication with the residents.” But no.

And so what does one do in this dire situation?  I got a recommendation for a well driller, and in about two months I’m going to have my very own well.  If you knew the quandary I was in about the bat, and then the water restrictions, I think you’d be very happy and proud to know I’ve made it through both still sane.

I’m Getting Three Birthday Parties

Tonight I’m off to a birthday party for lil’ol’ me at my friend Petra’s in Westbank, then on Saturday mom’s having a party out on her lovely deck for me, and then Sunday there’s a family gathering over here at my house to celebrate my momentous birth.

It just happened that way, and especially since its not an important number it seems unnecessary, but I’ll take it.  You know how I love to have the opportunity to cater an event, so Saturday I’ll be making dinner for twelve, and Sunday it’s for eight people.

Most people laugh nervously when I tell them I’m cooking for my birthday, but they don’t know how much joy it is for me to browse the web for interesting recipes.  Our pal Jim’s coming from Vancouver on Friday and I’m going to try out buffalo chicken wing lasagna on us.

Poor Louie still has to stay in Kelowna with Frieda when I go to Osoyoos as the latter animal’s just too dirty for mom’s wall to wall carpets.  I don’t think it hurts them as Nicky and his missus are downstairs, and they’re in their own environment so they just have to chill out until I return.

I was within a hair’s breadth of hiring a dog behaviourist for Frieda, as she made no connection between going to the bathroom outside or inside.  I fully recognize this isn’t her fault, given she was tossed into a kennel situation at maybe eight or ten weeks of age.

The person I bought her from breeds miniature dachshunds and was going to use Frieda for that purpose, but she turned out to be the wrong size for the breeder.  Or so the story goes.  In any case, she was never taught a thing, and so it’s been an uphill battle.  Finally, after three months, she’s slowly turning the corner and learning something.

Unfortunately she’s a very small animal, no bigger than a cat, and black, so she’s hard to see at night.  Though not for an owl or hawk, I imagine.

Margaret and I were out and about for a staycation, and went to Vernon to have lunch at Sparkling Hill Resort which is a beautiful setting.  Nice food, but we were the only guests in the dining room, which would make it quite hard to break even with three staff in front and at least that many cooking in the back.

We also had a nice outing to the south, stopping at Zia’s Stonehouse Restaurant in Summerland for lunch, then onto the Naramata bench for wine tastings at Lang and Black Widow wineries.  The weather was lovely for it, sunny and warm.

I took Nicky’s missus for lunch at the Eldorado and we sat lakeside which is so lovely.  Then a couple of days ago I met Kathy at Smack Dab for their Happy Hour.  I was thrilled to find a two-ounce cocktail for $8.00.

And so the life of the retired person in the Age of Covid continues pretty much as before.  Only now I dye my own hair, and trust me when it says to discard the mixture as it will explode, it will!  Who knew?