Quite a while ago my friend Jerralynn, who lives in Osoyoos, asked if she and her friend Carol could stay here the night before they flew to Cancun.  She said they had an ‘early flight’ out of Kelowna, and I gave it no further thought and said of course they could stay here.

It was great because I then bought a single bed for this office, and so now I’ve made an emergency overflow guest room.  Plus the cats are sure I got it for them, and they love it.  I was super happy to shop for sheets, blankets and a bedspread, and found the cutest quilt with matching shams at a thrift store for $6.00.

It’d been foggy for days prior to Jerralynn and Carol’s planned departure, but as they seemed unconcerned, I didn’t worry about it.  They arrived for dinner on Tuesday, and as I’d found out with shock and horror I was getting up at 4:30 AM to drive them to the airport, I hopped into bed by 9:00 PM.  Good night.

They sat up consuming the rest of the wine, and I have no idea when they finally got to bed.  At 4:30 I heard them getting ready so I got up, and shortly afterward we were on the road to the airport.  I dropped them at 5:00 and returned home and said to the dog we should just lie down for a while and rest.

At 6:00 AM, as I had just drifted off to sleep, the phone rang and it was Jerralynn saying the flight was cancelled due to fog, so I drove back out and picked them up.  They then spent the next three hours wrangling with their travel agent, and found a flight out of Spokane, a good five-hour drive south, so they left.

I’m just glad I’m not travelling anywhere right now as I have enough to do around here.  Today I used a tiny part of the gift certificate Liz gave me for Art Knapps, and bought 25 each of early, mid and late blooming tulips.  I want to plant those this afternoon because it’s gorgeous and sunny out.

I also have to do that horrible yearly job of digging out the dahlia bulbs, rinsing them off, packing them in peat moss and storing them for the winter.  Each spring I feel so hopeful when I look into the box, and every year the majority have shrivelled into a horrible dead mess.  Yet I continue to try, which is the fascinating part.

I did my first volunteering gig at the art gallery and it was kind of fun.  I’m assisting for now, and so it’s not too bad.  I liked feeling useful and the way the lead docent just assigned me to things so I can learn the routine.  She said to the kids, “Now when I finish talking Moni’s going to take five of you at a time to hang your things in the cloak room.”

That’s when all Hell broke loose as I don’t know how to coral five kids at a time without mayhem occurring.  Once they’d left I said to the lead docent, you know as a teacher of the deaf I had maybe five students, tops, but at times I’d be assigned a home room of regular grade eights or something equally God awful.

There was no way I could control 30 kids, and so I find it kind of interesting my first foray into volunteering should involve commanding large groups of school-age kids.  I guess I love facing my fears or something.

It’s interesting how when one thing breaks it causes a chain reaction.  In the past week my irrigation pipes for the automatic sprinkers, my car’s battery and then my printer all decided it was time for a bit of a shake-up on Hall Road.

I caused the car battery to fail because the other week I had to get Kathy and drive her to the gym because her car wouldn’t start.  This is her new Mercedes SUV.  I told her when she phoned the dealer to tell him her friend has a 1998 Honda Civic that starts all the time. 

Then the other day I got dressed, put on makeup and jumped into my car, and nothing.  I was momentarily stunned because if you know Hondas, you know they start no matter what.  I have BCAA so I called them and a nice man came and started the car for me.  He said I likely have an old battery which makes sense as I bought the car in 2009 and it was probably there a year or two prior.

I raced to Canadian Tire and Nicky put in a new battery for me, so that was a big saving.  He’s very handy around Hondas as yesterday he put either new brakes or brake pads, God only knows, on the front for me.  I have my own private mechanic.

A landscape company  came to blow out my pipes for the winter, and they’ve never been here before, so I walked out and showed the woman where the water box is.  I was a bit nervous because I had to kind of explain to her how I think companies did it in the past, because I really haven’t ever watched them do it.

Because of that I was completely unsurprised when half an hour later there was a knock at the door and the woman was standing there holding a piece of broken pipe.  She said, “it was glued…” and I said, “yes my son and his friend glued it in the spring.  Why were you turning that part, anyway?”

She drove off and returned in the afternoon with her husband.  They worked together for about half an hour and then knock, knock, knock, now he was at the door with a different broken piece.  He said they’d return to fix the system.

Several days later he returned and today it’s supposed to be ready to be blown out for the winter.  I can’t wait.

Finally, the printer stopped working, and as all of us who are self-employed know, not  being able to mail an invoice means no cheques appear in the mail.  It was a nerve-wracking few days, but that’s working again, too.

In the midst of it all my low back went on me and it was done in the stupidest way possible.  Mango is such a stand-offish cat, but he decided to sit in my chair, so I was carefully perched near the front so as not to bother him.  To be extra nice, I carefully reached behind me to try to pet him, and whammo!

It’s really hard to believe as in the gym we don’t just sit and pet cats,  yet my back never goes out as we do jumping jacks, burpees and mountain climbers.  Weird, eh?

Louie and I drove to Osoyoos on Saturday in time for lunch with mom, Freddie and Wendy.  I’d spent the previous afternoon cooking and baking in preparation for the weekend.  I made meatballs and tomato sauce, candied almond and chocolate chunk cookies and a pumpkin loaf. 

On Saturday morning I quickly made the dough for buns and let it rise in the sun on the back seat as we drove.  I could tell the bowl was in the sun whenever a waft of yeast would hit my nose.  Initially I’d tried to turn my head every once in a while to see what was happening with the bowl, but as I knew that would likely lead to an accident, just using my nose was better.

My brother and sister in law’s girls, husbands and kids came on Saturday afternoon and the Schillerpalooza began in earnest.  We basically spent all weekend together either preparing or cleaning up after food, visiting and drinking quite a lot of wine and other spirits.

Nicky drove down and back for the day on Sunday for the turkey dinner, and so it was a great family event.  Luke’s stuck out at the rigs, but what can one do when the work’s there?

And speaking of ‘work’, last week’s third lesson of how to be a docent at the art gallery involved being toured around the new exhibit by the volunteer coordinator.  First we saw a video on what ‘art’ is, what it’s intended to do, and so on.  Then she showed us a collage and asked us questions about it to show us how she would do it with school kids.

She then took us into the main gallery which houses the exhibit we’ll be touring with school classes for the next three months.  As we walked in, we could see a large pile of sand with large shards of glass stuck into it.

There’s a screen behind that showing a continuous loop of the artist talking about time travel and worm holes.  In another area there are drawings of galaxies, some sculptures with Lego-like buildings on them, and large black and white etchings of apocalyptic-looking scenes.

When we returned to the classroom the coordinator turned to us and asked with excitement how we liked the exhibit.  The group silently sat there, and someone volunteered, “I don’t like it.”

A general discussion ensued, and then she asked me what I thought of the exhibit.  I had taken a course called the history of art at UBC years ago, and have been to enough art shows and Woody Allen movies to know what to do at this point.  I went on about the optimistic feeling I had from the galaxies amd worm holes and thought the whole exhibit denoted hope.

Haven’t I said many times before the most valuable class I ever took was drama while in high school?  Certainly it came in handy at that point.  Because to me, that’s not really what I like either, but whatever.

And there it is in microcosm.  Just like extended family, with art some of it’s hard to understand, and some is easy.

My letter to the editor appeared in the October 1st edition of the Capital News.  I was very pleased and surprised that evening to get a call from a nice old gentleman named Mike Durban.  He said he was calling to say he agreed with everything I said in my letter about the loss of farm land.

Mike said he’s been here so long he remembers when Orchard Park Mall was all orchards.  He asked where I lived, and I said Hall Road, and he said he remembered when this area was all orchards, too.

I told him I lived in the old O’Reilly house so I know all about the orchard that was here.  Mike said, “Oh my God!  I used to go to great parties at that house.”  As it turns out, he was good friends with Jack O’Reilly and he said he also played on the Packers hockey team.

So I was really glad I’d written the letter, as sometimes it’s really easy to say oh to hell with it, what’s the point, especially in this case when it’s the Bennett family that owns the land in question.  I wonder whose side the Premier would be on in a dispute?

But never mind, I’m still going to follow up with an appointment with our local MLA to discuss my dismay and also a letter to the ALR commission as a citizen.  Why designate land for agriculture if people learn they can hold empty lots and then apply and eventually the land will be released?

Okay, and speaking of rants, when I attended lesson 1 of docent training at the art gallery on Thursday, the volunteer coordinator gave a long speech about funding for the arts.  When she stopped she said to us, “Well that’s the end of my um….” and I said, “rant?” and the group laughed so they think I’m funny which is good.

You know how weird and awkward it is to suddenly have a brand new group of strangers with which to bond.  I said to my mom we’re a motley crew of retired and semi retired people, five women and one lone man, who all want to become tour guides for school kids.  Why, I wonder.

I’m really not sure why I want to do that, but as I say to people, when you work from home you have to find artificial ways to force yourself out.  I love the Woman’s Place gym for my socializing, but other than that and Superstore, it’s pretty well the cats, Wrecks and Mango, and the dog Louie and me, playing tiddly winks at home.

I don’t know if this marketing idea will work, but I sent an e mail to Zoomer magazine to see if they have someone who reviews food who might like to sample my wares and write about them if deemed worthy.

I baked 55 fruitcakes today, so am slowly amassing the year’s required inventory.  Now that I see I’m on top of that, I want to do some marketing so that I can unload all of this product, too.  Amazing, but I’ve already had a few inquiries for direct sales so that’s all very good.

This afternoon I’m making a couple of lovely pumpkin loaves for the Schillerpalooza planned in Osoyoos this Thanksgiving.  Good thing I love to bake!

It’s horrible how I dread baking, then when I start, I think it’s easy and no problem.  I dread walking the dog, then once we’re outside, I enjoy it.  I just don’t understand this aversion to things I know I’m going to be doing anyway.

In any case, I’ve managed to bake around 400 fruitcakes this month, so feel good about that.  This gives me a good start on the season, so for once I won’t be crying while I’m simultaneously baking, packaging and mailing.

On Friday I had a lovely lunch out with my friend Petra.  We met at Earl’s and sat at the window where we had a view of the launch party for the new downtown pier.  Kelowna’s becoming very chi chi, don’t you know.  I rarely go downtown, so whenever I do I’m as surprised as any tourist.

But this is about to change, as I’ve been e mailed the training dates for becoming a volunteer tour guide at the art gallery.  I’ll have to attend on October 3, 8, and 10 from 1:00-4:00 and on October 18 from 10:00 – 1:45!  It had better be very hard to learn how to say to a grade one class, “Now why do you think the artist made the sun blue when we know the sun isn’t blue?”

For fun I’ve written another letter to the editor and hopefully it’ll be in the local Capital News in the next few days.  As usual, people with more money than conscience are asking for land to be removed from the agricultural land reserve.  I love writing letters like that, as it’s a good opportunity to practice slicing with a pen rathen than a sword.

Another bit of good news is that Luke’s capitulated and has hired a nice immigration consultant to help him do the paperwork to get Jan into Canada.  Now at least we have some hope it’ll happen in our lifetimes.

Luke wanted to do it himself, and when we printed the guide on how to fill out the forms, and the guide was over an inch thick, I told him I thought this might be a tricky process.  He said no, we’d work through it and use the guide, step by step.

Question number one, under which class are you applying, stumped us.  We read the definitions and mulled it over, and I said, “I think we need a consultant.”  Luke insisted he’d do it himself.  He filled out the application this spring, mailed it in, and it was just returned incomplete.

Oh well, better late than never and so hopefully Jan’ll be here soon.  But soon means probably 12 – 14 months, according to the consultant.

In the meantime Nicky continues to rent the basement, and basically keeps to himself down there.  He’s good in that he’ll mow the lawn or blow the pine needles off the driveway when required.  I suppose it won’t be too long and we’ll need the inevitable snow removal from the driveway.

And so I keep going, because cooler weather means the beginning of the long slide into Christmas, which is my goal.  That’s just 12 short weeks away, so my God, if I can’t keep going until then I should be shot.

You’d think after attending the gym for over 11 years I wouldn’t have a single muscle that isn’t in shape.  Surprise!  The other day I went to a new class at the gym, called “barre” and I was shocked at how hard it was.  To start with we did what felt like a thousand plies, as it’s a class comprised of ballet moves.

Stop laughing.  We don’t wear tutus or go on pointe, but we do exercises that are surprisingly hard.  At the beginning, the instructor told us to get 2-pound weights, and a seasoned attendee said, “trust me, that’s all you’ll need.”

I was expressing surprise, as in the weight training classes I an easily wing around 8-pound weights.  However when you do a thousand reps of something, a 2-pound weight gets mighty heavy.  It was a very interesting hour.

And today as I walked the dog I realized I’ve just gotten over the pain of walking.  I started walking Louie about two months ago, and I remember I had such sore shins and outer hip flexors I thought I must’ve done something at the gym.  These pains went away after a couple of weeks and new ones settled deep into my haunches.

Then today I noticed I no longer felt pain in my butt as the dog made me run up another long hill.  So doing different exercises certainly gets a variety of muscles working.  I wonder what activity I’ll do next only to discover another whole set of unused muscles.

I had a brief bout of hypochondria this week.  You’ll recall I managed to bang my eye on a garden stake and was told I had a vitreous detachment.  Though nothing serious, the eye doctor told me to come back in six weeks for a re-check, just to be sure I wasn’t one of the 1% of people who get a retinal detachment as a result.

I went in, and of course I’m completely fine.  Then just to make conversation, I said to the eye doctor, “You know it was weird, but in March when my mom’s partner was dying I was under so much stress I lost the vision in the upper half of my left eye for about 15 minutes.  That must’ve been a migraine-related event, right?”

She, being about Nicky or Luke’s age, said “No that sounds like an ocular stroke!”  She asked if I’d had my blood pressure checked lately, and I told her proudly I’d just had a physical and am in the peak of health.  She said, “I just worry about a carotid artery dissection.”

I went home and Googled everything, then phoned my dear old G.P. Dr. Lacroix, who’s in her 70’s.  I went to see her the next day and said, “Doc, am I in imminent danger of having a stroke?”

She looked puzzled, and pointed at the computer screen displaying my low blood pressure, cholesterol levels and blood sugars and said, “How would you have a stroke?”  She said, “Honest to God, young doctors go for the most obscure things” and added a simple spasm can restrict blood flow to the optic nerve.

So you see, live and learn, and I do about so many things all the time.

I saw an article in the local paper stating the art gallery needs volunteers.  I went on-line and filled out a form, faxed it to them, and was called to come in for an orientation session.  I went to the art gallery on Friday, and said I was applying to be a volunteer docent.

A docent is a person who does the tours of the gallery.  Apparently they have a good roster of them, but they always need more as they do two school tours a day, Monday to Friday from mid-October to mid-June.

Being at this orientation for 30 minutes reinforced my strong belief I would not be a very compliant or good employee.  The volunteer coordinator, Renee, was explaining there’d be three half-days of training, one of which was to learn how to ask open-ended questions of school kids.

Then she said after the training we would watch her do one tour, and then we would be assigned to a seasoned docent and be their assistant.  After a while one becomes a lead docent.  I was sitting there thinking of my Master of Education degree but said nothing.

I’ll do their tedious-sounding training, and then hope one day to be able to graduate to lead docent.  If I do, I’ll let you know.  The commitment is to do one tour, hence be there one half-day a week, so I said I can do that.

But in the meantime I’m a baking maniac, and made 11o fruitcakes last week, and the same this week, so have over 200 fruitcakes in the can. I plan to keep this up as long as I physically can, and as long as I think I can unload all of the product.

Last Tuesday my friend Petra and I went down to Osoyoos as I wanted her to meet mom and see the house and orchard.  It was a beautiful day, so we took a detour to the Summerland Sweets store and then onto Dirty Laundry Winery.

Petra hadn’t been to either, so enjoyed that.  We arrived just before noon and had lunch outside.  Jerralynn had made candied salmon, which is salmon baked with butter and brown sugar.  She’d also made a beautiful stacked heirloon tomato salad for the appetizer.

We drank a delicious bottle of Wild Goose’s gewurtztraminer, and Jerralynn made an ice cream cake for dessert.  By three or so it was time to head north, so we said good bye and then stopped briefly at that adorable antique store on main street of Okanagan Falls.

It’s nice to get out and see the things we have here in the Okanagan Valley, especially with the unseasonably hot weather we’ve been having.  It’s still so hot I have to walk Louie before 8:00 AM or else it’s too hot for him.

So this should be fun, going to the gym and the art gallery, baking fruitcakes, writing a blog and newsletter.  For extra challenges I’m working on a short story I plan to submit to CBC Radio’s short story contest which closes November 1st.  Deadlines are good.

And maybe that’s how I’ve been able to stand the fruitcake business, in that there’s always an end goal in sight with it.  December 25th, here I come.

I don’t know how I found the strength, but I managed to get organized and am ready to start baking.  I ordered cellophane bags for vacuum sealing, and picked them up at the Greyhound depot.  The large fruit order I placed at Springfield Bulk Foods is ready for pick up tomorrow morning.

Today I went to Costco and bought a dozen bags of pecans.  I’ve been to the Superstore for the flour, butter, sugar and eggs.  I spend last weekend chopping and cooking the fruit for the Okanagan Harvest Cakes.  Yesterday I got rum at the licquor store.

Yesterday I also roasted all of the almonds, and today will chop the chocolate and cut parchment paper for the tins.  Then tomorrow and Sunday there’s nothing left to do but bake like a lunatic.  Once baked comes the rumming, bagging and sealing and the kitchen has to be cleaned.

A few days ago Nicky had some friends over so I baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies for them, and made a batch of chocolate meringue cookies for my web designer.  This couldn’t have taken more than a couple of hours of standing in total, but I felt my knees by the end.  I thought I wonder how a day of fruitcake production’s going to go?

Maybe a body becomes too ancient for fruitcake production.  I don’t know but I’m going to find out.  Certainly I can’t do more than 30 minutes daily of walking/running with the dog and going 3 – 4 times a week for kick-ass classes at the gym to get into shape.  If after that I’m too decrepit to bake, then I’d hate to see someone out of shape try to get into the food business.

But you know there’s not a single aspect of the fruitcake business that’s mentally hard or baffling.  It’s all been worked out, and now it’s just a matter of producing them.  So I feel pretty in control of the upcoming season, and hope to be able to spend at least two full days a week baking.

Not to whine, but I’ve told you this many times before.  Two days of baking are preceded by days of shopping and preparation and followed by days of packaging and delivering or mailing.  Being a one person show is kind of interesting.

However several people have commented to me how much they like my newsletters, so that always makes me feel good.  I really enjoy writing them, and so it’s nice to hear people look forward to receiving them.

And why would I write a newsletter if I had no business to promote?  I have to bake just to be able to do the fun parts.  And because I love the fun parts, it’s always so darn awkward whenever ‘real’ entrepreneurs ask me questions about my business.

I still recall the days of dear Gerry Bruck asking me questions from his standpoint as a former silk mill owner.  He’d ask me the simplest, most straight-forward questions such as “what’s your cost to make a fruitcake?”  To which I usually replied with, “ummm….”

So why I’m in the fruitcake business I have no real idea, but now that I have people counting on me I can’t stop.  I tried, and it caused a commotion, so never mind.

Alison arrived from Toronto last Monday so I had spent the weekend cleaning and getting ready.  I bought an adorable pink rose covered quilt with matching pillow shams at Homesense for the guest room in preparation for her arrival.  Her jars of apricot jam stood waiting in anticipation of their imminent flight east.

I snuck in a fitness class in the morning, then Louie and I hopped into the car and picked her up at the airport at noon.  The weather was nice so we spent the afternoon sitting outside on my deck, enjoying the sun.  As I prepared dinner I noticed she was reading the same book I was reading, a memoir called Wild.

Because she was in BC in August I had to go all-Okanagan for dinner.  Beside a chardonnay from Gehringer wineries, I had a wild salmon filet which I cooked with brown sugar and butter.  We had local green beans and my tomatoes for accompaniment, and for dessert we had an apricot crisp.  I’d managed to make a handful of apricots hang on long enough for her arrival.  A miracle!

The next day we took Louie on a long walk, then headed for Osoyoos.  We didn’t get far before Louie had a mortifying bout of sudden diarhea and then vomiting in the car.  We had to go home and clean everything up and then we started again.  It turns out the almonds I’d given him the day before didn’t agree with him.  This time our departure was very successful and we arrived at a government picnic ground just outside Penticton around 1:00 PM.

I’d packed a picnic basket with a bottle of gewurtztraminer, two sandwiches, one cucumber and the other chicken salad, and a sliced ripe cantaloupe.  As we sat by the lake eating and drinking, the dog hung out sniffing things, and we felt very serene and joyful.  There’s nothing like the soothing sound of a large lake’s lapping waves.

We arrived at mom’s mid afternoon and at 6:00 she had a dinner party for a few really nice guests.  Jerralynn made her famous filet mignon topped with asparagus, large prawns and Hollandaise sauce.  A good conversation and time was had by all.

The next day I returned home with my pup and Alison headed off to be with her family.  She and JT returned to my place Sunday afternoon, so that engendered another huge cleaning spree as I spent seven hours working on this shack.   I made a lovely dinner of lentil soup with spiced oil, scallops in wine sauce and a peach upside down cake for dessert.  Then yesterday they flew back to Toronto.

Since then I’ve been distracted by Louie and his delicate stomach.  You’ll recall as a baby he was often sick from tummy troubles.  Yesterday he vomited a few times, and finally I saw one of my Styrofoam ear plugs in the mucous.  I wonder if the other one is still in his system.

And so it’s with a sinking heart that I turn the page on the calendar as September is always the beginning of fruitcake season for me.  I need to order some boxes, and then I’ll start to purchase the inventory I need for the cakes themselves.  Then, gulp, I’ll have to start baking.

But as the summer comes to an end and baking season looms I have to say I’m very tired of watering the garden and will be happy when it’s all over for another year.

As you may recall, my childhood friend Liz died in December and her brother had a memorial at their place in January.  He said there’d be an interment ceremony at the cemetery at some time.  Liz’ mom Liza died in June, and so James decided to have them both buried on August 13th.

So last Tuesday I met mom in Penticton, and we drove out to the Lakeview Cemetery.  It was a blistering hot day, and were all out in full sun.  About 20 people attended.  The men from the funeral home, and James, were in suits, so must’ve been very warm.

A few words were spoken by a religious representative, then James talked about his mom and Liz.  He said Liz had promised him she’d come back and give him a sign, which he said she had done.  James said it confirmed his belief in the afterlife.

The two urns of ashes were there side by side, along with what Liz had requested for her journey.  She wanted the medal she’d received when she headed the Triathlon for the Sydney games, and photos of her family as well as of her home in Osoyoos.  As James, his daugher Teresa, and his wife Julie lowered the urns Julie sang.

Afterwards we were all invited to the condo for a really nice buffet.  As I stood there eating and chatting to Teresa, Liz’ only niece, I said, “Well I’m here for my Barbie.  Even though you beat the hell out of it as a kid, I still want it.”  Teresa paled, but said nothing.

Then I saw James and said to Teresa, “I’m going to ask him for it right now” and marched toward him.  When I mentioned it he asked me to come into another room with him and said, “there’s good news and bad news.”

He explained after Liz died he sorted through her stuff, threw out a lot, and then brought the rest to his home in Midway.  He said to Teresa to pick something of her aunt’s that she would like.  Teresa immedately said “I want Liz’ baby blanket.”

James, being a male, had thrown it out!  He told me when he said that to Teresa (age 24) she screamed angrily then burst into tears and cried for a day. The next day he said “Okay what other thing might you want?” and she immediately replied, “Liz’ Barbie.”

Teresa told her dad she’d had hours of good times playing with it as a child, so that’s why she wanted it.  I guess at this point James must’ve felt quite ill, as he had to try to explain to her that I wanted the Barbie.  Apparently this caused more anger and tears.

At this point, I said to James, “Oh for the love of God, give Teresa the Barbie!”   He asked if I wanted to think about it and I said “don’t be nuts.  Liz would be so happy to know Teresa has the Barbie.”

He looked very relieved, and then I said, “what’s the good news?”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope with my name on it.  I thought maybe it was a last good bye to me from Liz.  When I opened it, I saw it was a gift certficate to Art Knapps, but as I didn’t have my glasses on, I couldn’t read the amount clearly.

I said to James, “This looks like $2500” and he said, “It IS $2500!”  Can you imagine?  How extraordinarily sweet and thoughtful it was of Liz to think of me and my garden on her deathbed.  Thanks, Lizzo.