It suddenly got hot, after a long summer of cloudy weather, and I’m completely unused to it. The dog and I walk before 8:00 AM as otherwise the sun nearly kills us. If we walk too late, when he gets to a house with a tree on a lawn, he lays right flat on it in the shade for a few minutes before we’re able to carry on. So it’s much better to just go early.

God knows it’s going to be Living Hell at the Liberal barbecue I organized for this afternoon at 5:00 PM. You’ll recall I had to fight to get the position of organization chair, and now I’m thinking why did I want that? Starting with Vaisakhi Day in April, we’ve now had nearly 10 events.

And today will be quite a challenging event, as besides the heat, we have no idea how many people to expect! Can you imagine? Alice, the president, and I are meeting at Superstore at 2:30 to shop for 100 people, and then drive the food straight to the Mission Creek park where volunteers will be ready with coolers.

We’re going to barbecue hamburgers and hot dogs, and have pop and water, so if we run out, I’ve already designated a Young Liberal as a runner, and he’ll have to return to Superstore for whatever we need.

I was in Osoyoos for the weekend as mom had a party as she likes to do. Freddie turned 70 in May, but mom and I didn’t go, so she decided to have a party for his friends. There were 20 of us, and Jerralynn and Stu barbecued big, thick pork chops that were just delicious.

I haven’t written a damned thing, not even this blog for ages, so the more I say I’m going to write the less I do it. It’s strange, eh? Maybe I’ll have major writer’s block for so long I’ll discover a new goal and forget about writing.

And the worst of it is that I now have a very good direction, kindly provided to me by writer Sharon Thesen who said why don’t you put all your newsletters into a book? She said those are ‘refreshing’ and could be of interest. So I dutifully printed them, and then I sat there looking at the stack, afraid to begin.

I ordered a book which lists writing contests as well as publications that will solicit articles. I signed up and paid for the Write your Novel course via distance at UBC. Now if I would just put pen to paper, and begin, but no.

And so I have great hopes the course is the thing that’ll finally get me over this unpleasant hump. I’ve never taken a course via EdX whatever that is, but it’s some type of Open Learning program. I hope I can master the computer end of it.

Until then, I continue to water my flowers and vegetables, do a bit of cleaning, cook, bake a few things, make jam, mow the lawn, and shop at thrift. My pal Gord, who’s a writer, said he can’t even own a pet as when he’s writing the house could burn down around him.

I can see why Joan Didion lived in a hotel with her hubby and kid. No distractions.

You know how I always blame the kids for having no impulse control, and that’s because I don’t have any either. Last week I decided I wanted a carriage house on this property. I thought wouldn’t that just be so cute to have a little house down on the area where I have my greenhouse and vegetable garden?

So I began to obsess about it, imagining the floor plan, and told a couple of people about my dreams. I phoned Bob Volk, the contractor who built the houses on Richter Street, and he said ask the City first. I said why when I have an e mail from a person saying I can do so. He said “they may just be yanking yer chain.”

I e mailed the City, waited two days and then sent an e mail saying Look. I just want a simple answer before the contractor will even set foot on my property. I forwarded the e mail indicating it was no problem. Then I got a reply saying guess what? policies have changed!

So indeed, the chain got yanked! I was fooled into thinking I could proceed, but whoa there Nelly, now the City said nope, they can’t support it. And that’s fine as 10 days ago I didn’t even know I wanted a carriage house. Now I can calm down again and find a new goal, which I believe will be the chicken coop.

It’s allowed on that area, but not a small house, so I think I have to go with the coop. When Louie and I walk past a house down on Hall with chickens I love hearing that rhythmic buck buck buck buck bugock, buck buck buck bugock, and think the neighbours will, too. It’s quite soothing.

And downtown the City’s putting the boots to Denis and I as well. In our rental house on Richter there’s a basement suite, which isn’t allowed. According to the by-law officer, we have to remove the stove. I e mailed him and said but there will still be the same tenants, same amount of garbage cans, and same parking spaces needed, so what does this do?

Never mind. The stove’s got to come out and everyone has to share the main kitchen upstairs. The tenants can reside downstairs in that suite, use their bathroom, living room and kitchen, complete with fridge and sink, but they’re not to have a stove.

Kinda makes one’s head spin, doesn’t it? I have been half-ways reasonable about it all, sending only carefully re-written e mails as I have a slight tendency to remove people’s heads with my writing. One wants people on their side, so my natural inclination to eviscerate has to be reined in.

I’ve been very busy on the Liberal executive, and tonight there’s an event at Summerhill Winery. Last week there was a nice event at Cedar Creek Winery for the tourism minister and our MP plus whoever wanted to sign up to attend.

Because we have an elected MP and our party’s in power, the MP gets a lot of people out to events. At this event over 100 free tickets were reserved. So it’s all good, but last week at Cedar Creek after two hours of standing I said I have got to get out of here, and headed straight home to the couch, dog and TV.

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.

After twelve years, I decided I no longer want to be in the fruitcake business! I know how shocked you must be, but it just came upon me, as these things usually do. You’ll recall how I cancelled work appointments and lied to people just to get to the gym, and then one day I said I’m sick of it, and quit. And this after 14.5 years of three to four visits per week!

So I’m less surprised than you, I guess, given how I lack any impulse control. Because as soon as I decided, I ran to the computer and placed an ad for Big Bertha, that heroic old mixer, the steel work table, and the baking racks. I wanted them out so I wouldn’t be lured back into it.

Four days later a nice person from a preschool came with two young adults to pick up the mixer. That thing must weigh 200 pounds and getting it up the stairs was treacherous, but hoisting it into their van without dropping it was worse.

They took the racks, too, so now I use the work table for storing the bag of Cat Chow, bags of Temptations, and their cans of Fancy Feast. I find it handy, so I’m sure someone will call and buy it too.

And what will my next chapter be? It took a bit of meditating, chanting, eating really bad food, feeling kind of nervous and edgy, to finally find a bit of a direction. I’ve decided to use the hours and hours of time saved from shopping for ingredients, baking, packaging and mailing fruitcakes to do the following.

First of all, I’m researching sites that have writing contests so that I can perhaps get published, and have a website featuring my writing like my pal Gord Grisenthwaite, does. This would be the direction I’d take with my website, and then instead of fruitcakes, you’d read nutty things that I write, not bake.

So imagine clicking onto my revised site, and there you’ll be able to read various things I’ve written, and maybe I could compile my recipes and flog an e book. Who knows what that site will evolve into.

Secondly, I’m going to research trade publications, send query letters, and try to get into their stable of writers, or at least be able to submit articles now and again. I’ve been making a list of things I could write about, such as fruitcake, small business, dogs, gardening, bees, dieting, parenting, compulsions, etc.

This would then become my bread and butter, as many of them pay. I’ve found some really helpful sites on line for freelance writers, and I can see I have an awful lot of leg work ahead of me before I get my first $100 cheque in the mail.

The last thing I’m doing is signing up for a creative writing course at UBC through distance education. Working for several months, one completes an outline, draft and final novel with the guidance of Annabel Lyon and Nancy Lee, two well known writers. The course is non credit and called Write Your Novel.

Of course now I’m ga ga with anticipation about what’s going to happen with this new adventure. But whatever happens I have to say I feel completely energized, even if a bit scared, to give this long-time dream of being a writer a real try.

Mom was the president of her local riding association for decades, and attended an awful lot of conventions. She was one of the original 600 or so delegates to elect Pierre Trudeau as leader of the party in 1968.

That convention was described as one of the most important conventions in party history. The Globe and Mail reported the next day it was “the most chaotic, confusing and emotionally draining convention in Canadian political history.”

I can’t describe the convention I just attended in Winnipeg in the same terms. It was very interesting and exhausting, but there was no chaos or confusion, and I don’t think anyone was emotionally drained as a result.

I’ve never been to a convention, and because I’d worked on the campaign as a volunteer, and am now on the local riding executive, mom said she’d treat me to one. Good thing, as when I went to register I was shocked to see the delegate fee was $900! Steep.

And I’ve never been to Winnipeg, and have only heard disparaging things about their winters and the mosquitoes in summer. However when I arrived I was pleasantly surprised at what a lovely city is is. They have really beautiful old buildings interspersed with some very nice looking high rises.

As we landed I was fortunate to overhear a woman in the row in front of me say “see you at the convention” to someone, so I said “are you going to the Liberal convention?” It turns out she was, and not only that, she and I were both staying at the Marlborough Hotel.

We shared a cab and went to our rooms. As soon as I got off the elevator on the third floor the stench of the carpet nearly knocked me over, but inside the room the smell was okay. A very dirty small old small room; outline of an iron burned into the carpet; multiple plugs going into one sagging outlet behind the furniture. Really nice free breakfast in the restaurant downstairs.

The convention centre was just a few blocks away, so we were able to walk back and forth and that was great. On the first night there was a social event at the Human Rights Museum, and they had opened it up for us to view, so my new friend Beth and toured all of the floors.

On Friday and Saturday we were kept busy with workshops from morning until night. I went to bed exhausted, and didn’t attend any of the socials after the first night. To me an event with hundreds of people standing around is torture anyway.

I learned a lot, and now I can say to people I realize policies and then laws are made by us, the people. We the party members hold policy meetings, and these policies are voted on provincially. Those chosen then to go the national convention where the members vote on what they want. I was thrilled to see how immediate government can be if people just knew.

The Prime Minister came straight from the G8 meeting in Japan and when I commented about that to Anna Gainey, the president of the party, she described him as “a machine.” He gave a great speech and kissed a baby in the audience, and was absolutely adorable, as ever.

Margaret’s here for the long weekend, but just now is in bed after taking two Gravol. I can only ever take one, so find that quite a large dosage. However, last night she consumed one 3 ounce Cosmopolitan, one 2 ounce Pina Colada, a bottle of white wine and a beer. Amazing for her body size, really.

What happened was a confluence of unexpected events. Freddie turned 70 yesterday, and Nicky and I were to go to Maple Ridge for the party. Margaret didn’t know prior to booking a flight here for the long weekend, but when I told her about it she was fine with babysitting the dog for one night while Nicky and I went.

Then on Friday Nicky came upstairs and announced he wasn’t going to the party, and since we were going to drive together I was a bit disappointed, but said no problem, I would drive myself.

However when I got up yesterday it was pouring rain, so mom phoned and said “You know what a terrible driver you are. You’ll probably have an accident in the rain so don’t go.” I said I didn’t mind and was ready to go, but she insisted, so I said fine, I won’t go.

I then got Margaret at the airport and told her I wasn’t leaving after all. She’d made arrangements for Denis to come over that night to join her, so I phoned him and said to come anyway and then it turned into a small Doyle party.

Mid-afternoon Luke showed up in high spirits, which made everyone thirsty for drinks, and so I mixed up the first one, a Cosmopolitan. I made it with 1.5 oz of vodka, 1.5 oz of Triple Sec and white cranberry juice. That went down their gullets easily, so I made pina coladas next.

I had one and was thrilled it didn’t trigger a migraine. Luke and Margaret also imbibed, and then Denis showed up so Margaret switched to white wine. I stopped after one pina colada, so was perfectly fine. Nicky hid in the basement until after dinner, but then he came upstairs to join the revelry.

At one point one of the kids suggested poker, so they brought out the cards and chips and we sat around the table and played several hands of Texas Hold ‘Em. Everyone put in $5.00. Luke won, so was thrilled as Denis was dropping him off at his condo and he wanted to stop for Doritos on the way home and needed money for that.

Once Margaret had finished the bottle of white wine and a beer, she opened a second one, but only had a sip before heading straight for bed. I found her there, boots and clothes still on. I said should you at least take off your shoes?

No one offered to drink the can of beer. Luke and Nicky had been drinking Scotch he received for the wedding last month from his pal James, so I thought why must we waste a beer as they were chasing the Scotch with a wince and a chug of brew anyway.

I had difficulty falling asleep as I would burst into gales of laughter every few minutes imagining Margaret this morning. Then sure enough when she left the bedroom it was just as I had thought, bad.

It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? I’ve been writing this blog for the past ten years, and it all began because my then web designer Gord suggested it’d be a good thing to do. I recall saying to him I didn’t know how I could possibly write about fruitcake every week, but he suggested I could write about all kinds of things.

He gave me good advice, too. He said the blog shouldn’t be in the style of the vocational rehabilitation reports I’ve spent decades writing, nor should it be the smut-filled raucous e mails I sent to him. Gord said the blog should be somewhere in the middle.

So in the spring of 2006 I began and found I enjoyed it tremendously, and have continued ever since. It’s like a running letter to someone who lives far away and can’t be reached in any other manner. Kind of the way the world was just a few decades ago when one waited weeks for a letter to arrive from overseas.

Of course there have been quite a lot of changes on Hall Road in those ten years. All three of the original band of dachshunds, Arnie, Mojo and Ricky, has died. The cats have surprisingly remained the same all this time.

Mom’s partner Gerry and my pal Liz died. Denis and I divorced. Both boys got married.

All manner of strange and wonderful hobbies have begun, such as having a greenhouse in which I can start prize-winning dahlias, and keeping bees. Last year as you know I was stung silly by those little critters, yet I persevere.

The business has been a roller coaster ride of ideas and accomplishments. I began with one product, Totally Decadent Fruitcake, which I sold by word of mouth. By the next year people opposed to glace fruit asked if I could make a fruitcake with dried fruit instead. I did that, and called it Okanagan Harvest Cake. To appeal to wineries, I later made a smaller version and called it Okanagan Fruit and Nut Bar.

Soon I was in Urban Fare in Coal Harbour, some Buy-Low stores, Stongs Market in Vancouver, Edible BC on Granville Island, and locally in many stores and wineries. I was featured in a series CBC Radio did on small business, and was contacted by The Bay and asked if I wanted to supply them with fruitcake. I declined stating it would likely kill me.

All along I had at most one baking helper, starting with Sharon, then Gord, and finally Marilyn. I really couldn’t see myself able to bake more than the four thousand Marilyn and I did at the peak in 2007 and the thought of expanding didn’t appeal to me.

Another idea I had was to make chocolate bark, as I’d bought dried cherries from Oliver and thought that’d make a great product. However, after standing there tempering chocolate a few times, I had my web designer take it off my website.

Two years ago I decided I’d reached my original goal, which was to have a solely home-based business. I told the stores I wouldn’t be selling to them any more, and have returned to the two original products, selling to faithful customers locally and via the site.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

We had 27 adults and three children, two cats and a dog at the wedding here at the house on Saturday and it all went swimmingly. The weather was unusually nice for April; it was like a day in June. We’d planned on a garden wedding with no Plan B so that was very lucky.

I spent about ten days preparing as I made all of the food, so made a list of what to buy and what to make, and then frozen dishes as they were made. The menu was coconut curried beef, honey/soy/garlic chicken, salmon, roasted potatoes, Mexican bean and rice salad, Greek Salad and buns.

I was happy when it was all over though, as four separate guests stayed at the house overnight, so prepping the food and cleaning for the wedding was one task, and then getting four guest beds ready was another. As this proved to me, I really could run a B and B here. Not that I want to, but I could.

Much easier and with less involvement than prepping for a wedding has been the sale of my perennials. I ran an ad on Castanet, which is free, and have sold a ton of plants. Who knew? Most people seem to like the idea of mature plants that’ll sprout into an instant garden when planted.

The reason I had so many to sell was due to my desire to revamp the lower vegetable garden. On one of the garden tours I took years ago I was enchanted by a garden that incorporated flowers and vegetables. However, as it turns out, it doesn’t work. The perennials grew so large I had very little room left for any vegetables at all.

Beverly brought me a beautiful piece of stained glass she made. I hung it in my living room window and it adds so much to this Bohemian-style house. I love stuff like that. She also gave a lovely piece to the kids as a wedding gift.

Nicky and Haruka went to Vancouver for a couple of days, but then returned smartly for Nicky to start his new job as a manager at Telus. She’ll fly back to Japan next week, and then continue working there until she receives her permanent residency. Hopefully that’s going to go a lot faster than it did with Jan and Luke.

So now I have two wonderful Asian daughters-in-law who’ll both be here in Kelowna, so far from their own families. Should there be any grandchildren, I’ll be the sole gramma here for them! I was far too attached to my family when I was those women’s ages to contemplate such a thing.

During my first marriage in Prince George, Stanley got an exchange opportunity to Rhode Island. At first I thought why would we go so far from home? I was already far from home living in Prince George. But we went, and it was a great experience.

And the world’s a much smaller place now, too. For instance James, the best man, held his phone so that Haruka’s mom could observe the ceremony from Japan. When Luke and Jan were apart they Skyped 24 hours a day. She’d be asleep, but Skype was on.

It’s not like it used to be, when phone calls were too expensive and letters took weeks to arrive. Then you could say my God, that’s a brave person to move so far from home. Nonetheless, I feel a huge responsibility to ensure happiness for these gals.

You may have suspected I died, but I’ve just been very busy with Nicky’s future mother-in-law’s visit from Japan. I’m also making the food for their wedding, plus want the house and yard half-decent, so right now I’m immersed in all of that.

I was fortunate to find a teenaged kid willing to clean the sunroom roof, which is a death-defying task. One must climb onto the flimsy roof and clean without stepping onto the glass panels which shatter like fake glass in old Western movies.

I can do all of the cleaning outside of that myself, and so have been doing that for several hours per day. Mrs. Sawaya arrived last Thursday afternoon, so I wanted to have the place all ready for her visit, as she’s not able to attend the wedding. I knew this was it for her, so had to pull out all stops.

She doesn’t speak any English, and I don’t speak Japanese, so we had to rely on charades and Haruka for help. I received Mrs. Sawaya’s beautiful navy blue kimono and obi which she wore when she was young, and I’ve hung the kimono on the wall.

On Friday the four of us went downtown and walked along the waterfront, had lunch at the Cactus Club right on the lake, and then went up Knox Mountain for a small hike and a view of the city and lake.

On Saturday we headed north to Vernon, looked at Kalamalka Lake and went over to Fintry Provincial Park and hiked up to Shannon Falls. That’s always hard on the old calves as it’s a mighty steep climb up hundreds of stairs to the top.

On Sunday we drove south to Osoyoos, had lunch at mom’s, went to the view point at Anarchist Mountain, and drove home on the east side of Okanagan Lake for a different vista. The weather was fantastic all three days.

Then poor Mrs. Sawaya had to fly home on Monday morning, after just three days and four nights in Canada! She has a job cooking at a school, and they only have these short breaks, unlike here where one would have a month or two off to travel.

I’m also busy re-vamping my lower garden, and dug out a lot of perennials which I hope to sell. I’m planning on having just vegetables down there as with water shortages one doesn’t need to be watering decorative plants that one doesn’t even see.

I also have a death-defying job to do with the bees. The beekeeper said I’m to reverse the two hive boxes, so I have to do that today. I know that means very angry bees, so will suit up from head to toe, with boots up to the knees after last year’s horrible incident where they swarmed my ankles and I couldn’t walk for three days.

The wedding’s in 12 days, so all I should be doing is cooking, but instead I’ve had chiropractor, dental and hair appointments, and also a lot to do with the Liberals. The defence minister arrives this week and we’re holding a social event for him on Friday.

But while Nicky’s at work I hope to put Haruka to work here to help me with some of the preparations, so it’ll all get done. Right now I’m wondering how, but I’m sure it will.

I’m kind of surprised at the amount of time one must devote to being a volunteer on a board for the Liberals. We’ve met at least 10 hours to date, and I had a small meeting last week with just my volunteers on the Events Committee. Who knew?

But it’s also tremendous fun because we’re all always on the same page, and so that makes for instant camaraderie. Also, I like those people, and it’s enjoyable to plan upcoming events knowing we all have the same goal in mind: re-election.

I put the pollen patty into my bee hive, and I’m hoping for the best, I.E. honey this year! It’s a lofty goal, but maybe I’ll be successful given how active my bees appear to be. The beekeeper told me to get a bigger hive, as otherwise they’ll swarm if they get too crowded.

I got a hive at Buckerfields, and then I had to e mail the beekeeper and ask him if I got the right parts, as it appears my new hive is going to be some wide, squat kind of a shape. He said yes, that’s right, as each box will then be easier to lift as the deep supers are extra heavy when filled with honey.

So with the bee project under way, being the kind of over-enthusiastic devourer of life that I am, I decided to get the greenhouse man over for some help. First of all, he had to fix an arm that no longer automatically lifts the pane when it gets too hot.

Then I said to him how can I use this thing for more than two months of the year? I’ve only ever been able to keep plants in there in the spring due to the intense heat. He said I really do have to get a fan, as otherwise I’ll never get proper use out of it.

But here’s the tricky part: the greenhouse is in the lower yard, far from any source of electricity. I was advised against a battery operated fan, and Wayne, the nice greenhouse man, said just get a long extension cord.

I measured it out, and I need 120 feet of extension cord which will run up the hill, over the paved driveway and plug into the garage. I said to Wayne, really?? Are you sure?? And he insisted it’s going to be fine.

Now I have the fan, and today I’ll go to Rona for the extension cord. I kind of like trips like that, as the customer service person is invariably a male, and I have the great pleasure of seeing their foreheads move back about an inch when I explain what I’m shopping for.

I sold 4 fruitcakes last week, which is a big week off-season as months can go by with nary a sale. Both were for locals who’ve ordered before, and as word of mouth and the repeat customers grow, perhaps last week won’t be an anomaly.

I want to find a white board at thrift so I can place it at the bottom of the driveway and write daily specials on there for passersby. I.E. Tomatoes or Flowers. Of course given the low traffic on Hall Road, I may be like the kids at the lemonade stand, consuming the stuff myself.

But for now it’s off to buy the seeds and bedding plants for my summer dreams.