If I stand on the scale in a certain way, it appears I may have lost a pound.  If I don’t get a reading I like I keep moving the scale around the room
until it gives me a proper response.  But I really think I might be trending downwards right now, and I can thank the looming 40^th high school reunion for motivation.

I have 30 days to get rid of this blubber, so the time’s tight.  But there’d be nothing worse than attending this thing just as fat as a pig.  Far better to arrive svelte and act like you’ve done this oh so effortlessly all these past decades.  Now that’s irritating.

And as I said to mom, if you can’t make people angry with envy at a reunion, why go?  But I may be the one seething with anger as I’ll likely be one of the beefiest members of the crowd.  Oh well.

I’ve managed to keep a tight rein on spending these past few weeks, and suddenly the dam burst.  It began quite innocently with a $50 gift certificate to Art Knapps which I’d received from Wendy for my birthday.  I bought two gorgeous hot pink Echinacea plants and some other useful stuff.

Then, I realized I hadn’t done my annual birthday gift shopping for myself, so I went to Rosebuds, one of my favourite consignment stores.  I tried on 15 dresses, and wouldn’t you know it, I liked three of them so bought them.

Now, heady with the monster being fuelled by purchases, I went to the mall.  The mall!  That’s got to be like the biggest all-night bar to a drunk.  I stumbled around there for awhile, only to end up at the Bay where I bought a nice gold necklace for my new daughter in law.

But I couldn’t help it, as it was 60% off, and then the sign said take another 25% off, so I went mad briefly, and bought it.  Dizzy, ecstatic, drooling with anticipation, I decided I hadn’t been to Home Sense in a long time.

Once there, I bought all manner of nice soaps and lotions made in Italy and England, as I thought what could be nicer for the Thai family members than that.  Then when I arrived home I started to pile up their purchases and realized I’ll need two suitcases for sure.

There’s still no word on Nicky’s job so we’re both like cats on a hot tin roof waiting to hear.  The woman he talks to said it will be one to two weeks before they know.  I’m so hopeful he gets this job, you have no idea.

Then it’ll be Girly Spa around here all the time. Lettuce wraps for dinner.  Toe nails being painted at any old hour.  No tools of any kind in the yard, and anything left exposed will be painted pink.

Hopefully that’ll happen a week or two prior to the reunion so I can do total treatments at home.  You know, hot towels on the face, followed by cucumber slices. – the kind of stuff that male offspring find really scary.  I have two words for that: buh bye,

I made so much jam I ran out of the jars I’d been storing all year, and had to buy a couple of cases at the Superstore.  I had about 40 pounds of apricots, so that’s a lotta cot jam, I can assure you .  However, it’ll all be eaten because it’s one of those things people expect when they come here.

You know when you go someplace where you’ve always eaten a certain, special thing, and then when you next arrive, they don’t serve it?  It causes too much trauma, so I think it’s better to make masses of jam.  I went through over 10 pounds of sugar in the process.

You’ll recall I was in some shock in June to find out that not only was Luke getting married, but it’d be in Thailand, and that I’d be in attendance, too.  Further shocks followed as the decision was made the entire family would go, and somehow cope with togetherness.

Today I’m sitting here stiff with anticipation over Nicky and the change about to occur in his life, and mine, too.  He was interviewed for some type of project management job for Telus in Vancouver, and though I hate to say it in case it doesn’t pan out, it looks quite promising.

This would mean after 26 short years of parenting I’d be a free agent once again.  It’s almost too much for a person to fathom.  I suppose prisoners freed after a long incarceration would understand my feelings the best right now.

And even if he doesn’t get this job, I can see it’s set his mind in motion for jobs with a bit of challenge.  He’s the sort of person who, even when small, we would beg to use his mouth for good instead of evil.  I had predicted he’d be a politician with that thing, and it may still occur.

I’m going to Osoyoos on Friday, because the East Indians who rent mom’s orchard are having the grand opening of their winery, Gold Hills.  My nieces Sunny and Julie will also be there because it’s Julie’s stagette weekend before her wedding.

Unfortunately, I’ll be there with a big fat stomach due to the stress of prepping Nicky for this damned interview.  You have no idea the abuse I take from that kid to get him ready for something like that.

Last night after he explained to me for the umpteenth time why he’s not going to study for an interview, I decided eating 3 bags of cookies was the best way of coping with my feelings.  He’s got the BA in psychology, not me.

My birthday was on Friday the 13th, and wouldn’t you know it, I woke up with the worst bursitis in my left shoulder.  I was in agony all day, and even cancelled my birthday lunch with Kathy.  I told her there was no point if I was just going to be sitting there grimacing.

It was still horrible on Saturday.  Margaret was here from Vancouver, so we all drove to Osoyoos for mom’s annual party for me.  Luckily, I didn’t have to drive going or coming, so that was nice.  But nonetheless I arrived white-faced from pain.

Mom immediately called the retired doctor who was one of the guests and left him a message to bring a shot for pain!  Then mom said surely Martha the chiropractor, another guest, would be able to help too.

When Martha arrived and saw me with my arm in the sling, she said, “Get on the bed.”  She then did some adjustments that made me see little stars going round and round my head.  Later on she did another, and she really did get rid of a lot of the pain and improved my range of motion.

Undaunted, I was still able to eat a lobster, accompanied by salad and corn on the cob.  Gerry and mom had 30 lobsters flown in from Nova Scotia, as they’d done three years earlier.  There were 23 guests and everyone had a great time.

As predicted, the lobsters were done completely incorrectly for Gerry Bruck.  That was because Jerralynn was sick, and she’s the head chef.  So the town mayor, Stu Wells, and my brother Freddie, who’s his best friend, took over lobster-cooking duties.  This portended disaster right from the start.

As it likes to be in mid-July in Osoyoos, it was 40 degrees Celsius in the sun.  A large propane-fuelled two-burner stove was set up and two big pots of water placed on top.  My sister-in-law Wendy said she walked by as they were filling the pots from the hose, thought to suggest maybe starting with hot tap water, but said nothing.

We all sat with bibs for a long, long time, and then the water finally decided to boil.  The lobsters were taken out of their Styrofoam box and placed into the water.  They were timed, and removed at intervals.

Stu and Freddie got Nicky to help them, and the three of them were bathed in sweat, due to the sun and the steam. Just as the crowd was beginning to get restless, the lobsters were served with lashings of melted butter.  Everyone thought they were good, but Gerry didn’t.

He’s very particular about the way a lobster’s cooked and served, and even at 97 his standards haven’t come down one inch.  I said to him the next day, perhaps lobsters for 6 would be more manageable, and he agreed.

So another birthday’s come and gone, and today the pain of the shoulder is almost a distance memory.  Just in time to make dozens and dozens of jars of apricot jam in preparation for the long winter.

Last Sunday was Canada Day and I was invited over to Petra and Larry’s for a barbecue.  I drove to their place with Kathy and David, and it was a very enjoyable evening.  We left for home right in time to see the fireworks as we crossed the bridge into Kelowna.

This week I received a call from a nice woman in Alberta who said she wanted a fruitcake for her in-law’s wedding anniversary.  She said they had had a fruitcake at their wedding, and also mentioned there was a horn of plenty.

And being the lunatic I am, I printed a couple of pictures of horns of plenty, and then coloured them nicely.  I cut them out, and put one inside an anniversary card and one on the outside of the envelope.

Then I took a Totally Decadent Fruitcake and the card, and put them inside pretty clear cellophane and wrapped it with a wired silk ribbon.  It looked very nice, and I like to imagine the happiness of the couple at their kids’ thoughtfulness when they open it.

And since I was headed north on Highway 97 anyway, I said I’d drop it off at Sparkling Hills Resort, just outside Vernon, where they’ll be staying.  What a great drive and view from up there!  If you’re ever near there, you should drive up and have a look as it’s quite the place.

On the drive CBC’s Mark Forsythe was interviewing some expert in climate change.  With the drought and heat in the American mid-west and the deluge of rain in England, it may finally be dawning on humans that we need to stop consuming so damned much.

Which is why, of course, I’m totally smug about buying things second-hand.  You leave a much smaller footprint if you buy something someone else no longer wants.  And really, how much damage can be done to most items?

The other day I was browsing in the Mennonite Thrift Store and I found a nice Rand McNally Atlas for $2.00.  It was printed in 1986 and was still in good shape.  The original price was $39.95 which was a princely sum back then.

But I can have it in 2012 for a fraction of the cost, plus a new atlas doesn’t need to be produced for me, and this one didn’t end up our mountainous landfills. Surely to God we can all find some items to buy used, even those of you who need to burn your money to get rid of it.

And then that kind of thing makes up for one fruitcake being delivered to Sparkling Hills Resort by this intrepid fruitcake monger.  It’s my own version of carbon off-sets.  Drive a car, buy a used coffee table, atlas etc.

I try to do the same thing with the gym, but of course I’m somewhat less successful with the conversion.  Exercise for one hour, eat 4,000 calories.  But I was never good at math, as you well know.

The monk is conspiring against me and my fruitcake business.  Luke’s wedding date in Thailand’s been chosen, and it’s November 23!  I’ll leave November 18th and return on December 2nd, so that makes for an interesting gap in the seasonal business.

I imagine the Country Woman magazine issue mentioning my business likely hits newsstands around mid-November, so all of this is so interesting!

And you won’t believe this part of it: Denis and Nicky are going, too.  Yes, the whole family’s off to Thailand.  Now I have to find a dog/cat sitter who might also be able to handle some of the fruitcake inquiries.  Surely such a person exists.

But as we well know, worry is futile, so I’ll leave all of the details to the fates.  Right now I have far more immediate worries, such as why I won’t do something about this ring of fat around my middle.  If I’d just stop chowing down on bad carbs, I’d be fine.

Fortunately, I’m on an austerity program as I have to save for Thailand.  This means I don’t have to suffer the indignities of the consignment stores’ dressing room mirrors.  The last thing I need to do is shop for clothes, especially when larger than Bev Oda.

But hold it: I do have one thing to buy, and that’s a nice pink dress for the wedding.  I asked Jan (Supawan) what colours are good luck, and she said pink or white.  As pink’s my favourite colour, I’m taking this as another good omen.

As you’ll recall I insisted to Luke I have to fly Cathay Pacific, and now Luke, Nicky and Denis are all flying China Air.  However, because of their presence on the trip, and because I’m saddled with them, the rest of the trip will be done their way, IE  cheap.

We’re staying at a place in Bangkok that’s $31 a night.  Then we’ll be staying for free in the bride’s village, and then we’re going to a resort on the island of Ko Samui in the Gulf of Thailand.  I think that’ $50/night!  But it’s true, why spend a bunch of money if you’re in a lovely setting.  I’ll be snorkelling like a crazy person.

Today I talked to my prospective daughter-in-law on Skype, and she’s a lovely girl.  At first, I couldn’t understand one single word she was saying, but after a few minutes my ear became acclimatized and then it was okay.  Hard, but okay.

She said she doesn’t drive and is too scared to, and I said well when you live here, you can’t walk everywhere because it’s too far.  It’s always so interesting to watch a new Canadian or visitor as they look at the map, see where they are, and then go, wow, this really IS a big country!

So it was a special Canada Day for me today as I spoke to someone who could only dream of being a Canadian a short while ago, and now it’s going to happen.  Jan was glad to learn about Canada Day when I told her about it.

And that’s just the first of a lifetime of conversations I expect to have with this young woman from so far away who’s going to marry my son.  But imagine the joy of tutoring a newcomer in English and turning out a primo speaker:  The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain!

Parenting continues to be an interesting experience.  As you may recall, Luke went to Thailand in April, and came home saying he was in love with a Thai woman.  Since he’s come home they’ve spent 10 hours a day talking on Skype, he has proposed, and the wedding’s in  Thailand in October!

Naturally I’m attending my baby’s wedding, so have been getting my head around the ide of it all.  First, I have to fly from Vancouver to Bangkok, which appears to take 18 hours.  I immediately began researching airlines and told Luke I’m not going unless we fly Cathay Pacific, as they have the best reviews.

Then once we arrive in the steaming hell hole of Bangkok, we take an 8-hour bus ride north to the province of Ubon-Ratchathani. My new daughter-in-law, Jan’s village is located very close to Laos.  Luke said I’ll be sleeping on the floor and there’s no bathroom, so of course I said I’ll just adore it so much.

To do: Phone Dr. Lacroix and get a prescription for sleeping pills.  Strong ones.

But really, the research I’ve done on Thailand and Thai weddings is making me very excited about it all.  From what I read, the Buddhist ceremony starts in the morning and goes on all day, and into the night.  The entire village shows up and Jan said they’ll be married in the rice paddy.

Right now the area monk’s choosing the date, as is the tradition.  He picks a date that ensures the marriage will be long and happy.  Once I know that, I can start to look at flights.  I plan to spend two weeks because after the dear village, we’re apparently going to a resort on an island in the Gulf of Thailand.

I’ve been talking to Jan by texting back and forth on Facebook, but she wants me to get Skype so we can speak before the wedding.  I was talking to Luke about it and asked if it was too hard for me, and he said look mom, if Jan’s able to do it, you can do it.  So I’m going to try.

You know, now that I’m fully inerested in Facebook, and also have to research Thailand and Buddhism, plus send e mails and messages to Jan and Luke, I can’t think about another damned thing!  All day I sing this ditty from Lady and the Tramp, “We are Siamese if you please.  We are Siamese if you don’t please.”

But I fear it may be more like the old song One Night in Bangkok.  “One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble, not a lot between despair and ecstasy.”  Now Luke says he’s scared to have me see the insanity of Bangkok but I said too late.

I was called by the nice editor of Country Woman Magazine again.  You may recall a few years ago she was interviewing me, but then nothing came of it.  She said this December they want to feature fruitcakes, so I’m hoping I’ll be lucky.

I have to build the business so I can hand it over to Jan someday.  Luke said who wants an Asian fruitcake? and I said what’s Asian about Jan Doyle?  It’s all in the marketing, as we well know.

The other night Nicky was looking through the cupboards for something to eat after dinner, so I asked him if he wanted me to make him some pudding.  He said, “Sure!” so I made him some nice homemade chocolate pudding.  I use the old Joy of Cooking cookbook for recipes like that as you can’t beat it for simplicity.

I received a nice cookbook from Petra (a.k.a. Pat) as a hostess gift, and I tried the beef sukiyaki recipe.  I didn’t think it was all that great, as compared to what I’ve had in Japanese restaurants over the years.  But Nicky’s pal Taylor was over so I invited him for dinner, and both boys tried it and declared it ‘legit.’  They both loved it actually, so that was nice.

However, I don’t think I can properly convey the annoyance I feel every time I look out of my south-facing windows.  For 22 years I’ve seen nothing but trees, but now with a huge house being built across the road, I’ll have people staring right at me.

From Monday to Friday the builders are there, and it’s really disconcerting.  I’m so used to wandering out my French doors onto my deck and eating at the table, dreaming about lots of wonderful things.  Now as I approach the doors I’m assaulted by their old rock and roll music station and feel completely uncomfortable out there.

I’m not sure what can possibly be done about it, and the other day I said to Nicky maybe I’ll even have to stop walking around in my underwear.  But then I said you know, I think dad was right when he used to say, “If thine eyes offend thee, pluck them out.”

I mean, I was obviously here with this privacy before the house was built, so to put it in the kindest and politest terms possible: shove off.  If they don’t like what they’re seeing, they’ll have to cast their gaze elsewhere, because I’m afraid I don’t think I can change at this age.

And it’s precisely that type of upset that I blame for my recent weight gain of 5 pounds.  Remember how I dieted to get into shape for Toronto?  I guess once the trip was over I decided I may as well try to eat my troubles away, and though it didn’t work, I managed to gain 5 pounds of blubber right on my stomach.

I had another letter to the editor published the other day.  This time I wrote about why I’m against a ridiculous new development called Kelowna Mountain.  It would be comprised of a golf course, year-round snowboard hill, 1500 homes and a bunch of other stuff that’d drain this lake entirely.

I have to say, as well as the chocolate pudding and beef sukiyaki a lot of interesting cooking projects are keeping me completely stimulated, so that’s a good thing.  The June Martha Stewart magazine is a joy, and I intend to try some of the recipes, like the strawberry cheesecake ice cream.

I’m salivating over the flourless chocolate cookie recipe as well as a tres leches cake that uses coconut milk as one of the ingredients.  So I believe you can see my dilemma: food is fun to make and fun to eat.  It is comforting.  However, the excess “fun” is 5 pounds of fat in one month right on the gut.  Cruel!

On this date in 1964, I received my first horse.  Her name was Babe, and she was a middle-age bay mare.  Unfortunately, because none of us knew anything about horses, we didn’t know she was pregnant until April 19, 1965 when she gave birth to a little white colt who we named Max.

I think that’s why I’ve been particularly haunted by the play War Horse.  When you’ve hung around with horses you realize how intuitive and smart they are.  The queen and I apparently both have a great love for them, which is just another reason I adore the queen.

I find it very irritating when people say the monarchy is irrelevant, and who cares about the queen, and so on.  When I think of how much tourist money she’s brought to England, and of what an example she sets for the world, I can’t understand why others think that’s nothing.

In any case, I was always raised by my parents, and especially my dad, to think of them as Cousin Phil and Cousin Liz.  That’s because we’re all teutons, so dad naturally made the leap to us being related.  Therefore what they do has always been a large part of my life.

Did you watch the Jubilee celebrations?  I did, and loved them.  I especially like looking at a creature as lithe as the Duchess of Cambridge.  How does she do it?  I’m currently trying to reduce my bulk, and when I see that I can see I have an awfully long way to go!  But then she’s 30 and I’m 58, so go figure.

Being bored and cantankerous, I’ve just written another letter to the editor.  This one is about a ghastly project whereby the developer literally built a ski hill just outside of Kelowna, and then went to apply for permits!  But thank God, unlike the queen, I’m allowed to give my opinion.

And I’m also trying to do more of that on Facebook, as it’s a good way to slag or promote things.  I’m still not getting the hang of Twitter, but one can only do so much when one can barely still use a touch telephone.

Nicky left for Alberta on Tuesday, but before you get excited, it’s just to visit Luke and he’ll be home any day.  I’m hoping he sees the benefits of moving to a place where the jobs are plentiful and the pay’s good.  And selfish and horrible old me, I’m also kind of hoping that one day, after 27 years, I’ll have some time alone.

Yesterday I talked to a super nice pal from the gym who separated from her husband of 30 years and who said she is kind of sad it’s just her and the dog in her house.  I went, are you nuts??

I gave her a good pep talk about the virtues of solitude and she said she needs to speak with me more often.  I said well no kidding!  But then it’s just like people’s opinions of the queen, so I guess we have to say vive la difference.  What else can one do?

When Bev visited me last fall she asked if she could use my laptop to send me an e mail, and I said sure.  However, after a few minutes of frustration, she gave up. Because of my zeal at striking the keys with the force of a punch, I’ve managed to wear off the letters. Bev’s not a touch-typist, so you can imagine her annoyance at my keyboard!

The roving hub in the computer had packed it in years earlier. So whereas other people can sit at their nice sunny dining room tables, I’ve had to be connected to the actual cable in order to do anything on the Internet.

Whenever I unplugged the laptop and took it to Osoyoos to type mom’s biographical information, it squeaked whenever it was plugged in again.  There were toast crumbs wedged so firmly that some letters hardly reacted when struck.

Once the laptop was running, I noticed the motor roared very loudly, but I just thought oh well.  Backing up files would cross my mind now and again, but I thought as I didn’t have a clue how to do it, I’d just igore that, too.

Yesterday morning I was typing away, and suddenly the computer turned itself off.  As this had never happened before and due to the squeaking, roaring and no back-up, my blood ran cold.  I decided to just slowly back out of my office, and then I ran dow the hall and paced in my kitchen for a while.

I consulted with a fellow member at the gym who works for the RCMP in their special computer section.  She reassured me it was likely just the power inside the laptop that was now gone, but that the hard drive should be salvageable.

When I came home from the gym I just wished for good luck and picked a mobile technician from the Yellow Pages.  He came over, transferred my files from the poor old laptop onto the new one Luke gave me for Christmas, and installed an external hard drive to boot.  Now nothing can happen.

So despite a few traumatic weeks of landscapers, a broken computer and surprisingly huge invoices, I’m now in pretty good shape all around.  The yard is now supposedly all going to be automatically watered, so without hours a day of watering, life should improve tremendously.

I’m off to Osoyoos today then will pick up cherries on the way home to make some more bark.  Tracy, the owner of Discover Wines, ordered some tiny bags of bark and I didn’t have the heart to tell her I don’t want to sell my products wholesale anymore.

I decided I’d continue to sell to her, because the quantities are manageable plus she’s the first store owner who contacted me, and who helped with my foray into stores.  Besides, with my new-found time I should surely be able to handle that.

My hands and arms are like lead due to my Kamikaze-like gardening methods.  For example, I’ll do things like pull on an errant root like a badger with a snake’s tail, rather than stand up and get a shovel.  Last weekend I gardened for a total of about 16 hours, and yesterday for four hours, and now my body’s weak from the experience. 

But it’s that time of year, so if not now, then never.  Hence, I’ve now planted an inordinate number of tomatoes, including some heritage varieties, one of which will be almost black!  I also have potatoes, cucumbers, broccoli, peppers, Swiss chard, beets, carrots and green beans.  I’m pretty excited.

Yesterday the weather was motivational, so Nicky and his friends helped me with some difficult work like weed eating.  As this isn’t your conventional yard, the weed eater is a gas-powered behemoth that I can barely lift, never mind maneuver around the plants.

You’d think with the four times per week of gym attendance, and the heavy gardening and yard work, I’d be as thin as Nicole Kidman, but no.  It’s strange, but working like a mule seems to engender a mule’s appetite, and I indulge it.

The SOSS (Southern Okanagan Secondary School) grad class of 1972’s having a reunion on the Labour Day weekend, and I can’t be the largest one there.  It’s frightful enough to have to show up all jowls, but with Donald Trump’s girth to boot, it’s just too much.

Mojo resembled The Donald the other day, too.  I put down the dogs’ bowls of their dry munchies for breakfast, and Mojo just looked at hers.  This never happens with a dachshund, so I felt her body and realized she was as taut and blown-up as a zeppelin.

I don’t know what caused it, but she was fine by dinner time.  The day before the cats had brought in a mouse, as they like to do.  Mojo won’t tolerate a mouse in the house, so after stalking it for some time, she was finally able to get it when I moved the TV and stand out of the way.

However, in the past I’ve always been able to get her to drop the mouse once dead, but this time she just couldn’t stop herself and ate the whole thing.  I’m thinking the mouse must’ve disagreed with my pure-bred dog.

But unfortunately, not a single food item seems to disagree with me.  I invited my friends Kathy and David, Pat and Larry for dinner on Wednesday.  I made the broccoli and coconut milk soup I had in my latest newsletter, as well as chicken, rice, beet salad and a four-layer chocolate chunk torte for dessert.

Thankfully I know myself well enough, and before they left I wrapped the remaining cake and gave it to the two couples to take home.  I knew what was going to happen to it if left in my possession, and with three months to go until the reunion, I can’t take any chances.