I don’t know if this is wise, but I’m trying a new experiment this fall.  Instead of having dozens of cases of fruitcake pre-made, I’m waiting to see how orders go, and then baking as required.  I figure it worked for me when essays were due in university, and perhaps this method of working with a tight deadline will be good here, too.

But besides a tight deadline, I really think I need a new chin-line.  The web designer said, “How about some new photos of you for the site?”  I said, “I’m now too hideous to be photographed for the site.”  Nothing makes one think facelift like looking at photos and going, “Yikes.”

But then I guess that’s why Photoshop was invented, eh?  I’ll just get some photos taken, then send them to Steve, and ask him to work some magic with them.  And then ta da, there’ll be some ‘updated’ photos of me!  How else to explain whenever I look at photos of Martha Stewart she does not age?

This week I received repeat orders from Stong’s Market and Edible Canada in Vancouver, and Sunshine Market here in Kelowna.  I shipped them immediately because I want to stay on top of my dwindling stock.  Isn’t this going to be fun?

Actually, I already have experienced baking for an order, as part of Edible Canada’s order was for 24 Okanagan Fruit and Rum bars.  I had none on hand, so had to bake those on Monday to ship them on Tuesday so they’d arrive in time for the Thanksgiving weekend.

It happened again during the week as a nice friend phoned to order a bunch of bark.  She said, “I’ll take a pound of white chocolate and cherries, a pound of half and half, and two pounds of dark.  Do you have all of that on-hand?”  I didn’t, but of course I said “No problem!” and two days later delivered the order.

And then all of this interferes horribly with my home cooking projects.  Kathy loves spicy foods, and I mean hot.  So I told her I’d make her a screaming hot salsa, but to date, I can’t get it hot enough!  I also have Concord grapes ripening and I want to make jelly as I read it can be used as a barbecue sauce ingredient.

During the week I baked blondies and chocolate almond squares for Steve, the web designer, as he loves sweets.  Unfortunately, two of the squares didn’t fit into the tin so I had to eat them.  Needless to say, the diet isn’t going all that well.

And that’s all about to get much, much worse.  I invited Denis to join Nicky and me for turkey dinner tonight, and he was happy to accept.  Then tomorrow I’m off to Osoyoos for another turkey dinner at mom’s.  I’ll arrive home on Monday to leftovers of turkey.  That should just about do my yen for it.

Naturally there are lashings of pumpkin pie and whipped cream involved in all of it.  I’m off to the gym, as it’s about all I can do right now to hold the line.  I suppose I could leave the girth to Photoshop, too, but it just doesn’t seem healthy.

When I paid a visit to my pal Liz and her mom Liza in Penticton at the end of May, I received a parking ticket.  I was about eight minutes over the time allotted, and the ticket was for $35, but $10 if you paid within seven days.

A few days later, I wrote a cheque for $10 and mailed it to Penticton.  I mailed it on a Tuesday, and it was due on Thursday.  I gave it no further thought.

The mail strike ensued, and during the month of July I received a notice from a collection agency.  I thought, what the heck, and saw that I was “overdue” with a payment of $25 to the City of Penticton.

I phoned them, and a nice girl explained that my cheque was due on the Thursday, but they didn’t receive it until Friday.  Hence, it was late, and an additional $25 was owed.  I explained I mailed the letter in time to for it to arrive, and besides, had no idea it arrived late and wondered why I had to be put over to a collection agency.

The nice girl explained that they had sent me a second letter, which I said I didn’t receive, as it must’ve been mixed up in the mail strike.  She said that was too bad, but I owed $25 and that was that.

So now every few days I get a recorded message from Wiggins Adjustments, based in Langley, asking me to call them.  I won’t, though, as I enjoy it.  I want the City of Penticton to pay far more than $25 to this company to try and beat the money out of me for being one day late.

Imagine trying to pay a parking ticket, payment arrives one day late, and having a collection agency sicked onto you!  In the words of the immortal Bugs Bunny, “I hope you know, dis means war.”  And since I’m the sort of person who enjoys this type of thing, this may go on for years.

It adds excitement to my trips to Penticton.  I was there on Tuesday, and made lunch for Liz and Liza.  We started with Liz’ favourite carrot soup, then I’d made shrimp jambalaya and rice, and another one of Liz’ favourites, meringues with whipped cream.

I parked in a free space in front of their building, and thought, “Come and get me, City of Penticton.  Here I am.”  Of course, as I was legally parked nothing happened.  Then I further taunted the gestapo by parking in the Safeway lot, and then on a residential street.

And there’s even more excitement in my life, as I’ve started to contact stores, and once again, they’re ordering.  I have a repeat order for Urban Fare in Yaletown, so feel really happy about that.  If you’re going to make artisan food, you do want it in the highest-end places around.

This weekend I plan to prep the dried fruit for the Okanagan Harvest Cakes, and then bake a bit.  I have to get moving because God knows how long I’ll remain free. Conrad Black wrote a book while in jail, so at least I have something to aspire to once the dangerous Wiggins Adjustments Collection Agency gets a hold of me.

When I told mom I was getting the bee hive, she said with some concern, “You know, beekeepers are all really kind of odd people.”  I thought she was perhaps overstating the case, but since last weekend, I do think she might be right.

A week ago the woman who sold me the bees, named Lorraine, came to my property to have a look at my hive.  She said, “Unfortunately, your bees didn’t make enough honey and will die over the winter.”  I felt terrible about it, and decided to do some research.

I went on-line to the BC Beekeepers Association, and e mailed whoever had an e mail listed on the site.  I said I had a bee hive, had been told the bees would starve, and wondered if there was anything to be done about it.  Well!  Beekeepers began phoning and e mailing me, just like an actual swarm.

As it turns out, the bees need something like 60 pounds of syrup, fed over the fall and winter, to help them survive.  Who knew?  One man I spoke to nearly wept.  He said, “How many supers to you have?”  I went, “Um, supers?”  He almost went insane, saying how anyone can get a bee hive, and not know anything about beekeeping was beyond him.

Now I’m resigned.  I have to get on my bee suit, learn how to put fuel into the smoker, go to the hive, open it, and generally commune with the bees.  The particularly upset man had also asked if the bees were still carrying in pollen.

I asked how I would know that.  He said, “You’d see it on their hind legs.”  I said, “Oh, I guess I have to start watching them.”  I believe it was at this point in the conversation where, even through the phone line, I could feel his adrenalin stores building dangerously.

My overall to-do list, posted on the fridge, says 1) do yoga 2) walk the dogs and 3) take pictures (ie learn how to use the new camera).  Now I have to add 4) hang around with the bees.

Instead of naming the bees, and trying to be their friend, I’ve been trying to keep up with the tomato harvest.  One year I’d like to actually keep the little tags that come with them, so that I can only buy the ones that I like. I have some that are absolutely huge, and very tasty as well.

Nicky announced proudly that he had an idea.  “It’s genius, mom.” His idea was for me to make homemade salsa with all the tomatoes.  He’s crazy for tortilla chips and salsa, so I thought it was a pretty good idea.  I’ve made one batch, and I just love it, so will put the recipe in next months’ newsletter.

I wonder if becoming a proper beekeeper will place me into the realm of kooky.  One of our neighbours in Osoyoos, my dad’s pal Johnny Rist, kept bees, and he was a Rosicrucianist.  If these weekly blogs get nuttier and nuttier, then you’ll know that mom was indeed correct.

If you have any experience with Millenials, you know the highest compliment you or something can receive is “dope!”  As in “I bought you some frozen Aunt Jemima pancakes.”  Nicky: “Dope!”  I tried it out at the gym in response to someone’s comment about something or other, but it didn’t go over well.

After procrastinating longer than ever, I baked on Sunday.  And of course it was much easier and more pleasant than I’d expected it to be.  I made 42 Okanagan Harvest Cakes, and now still have to vacuum seal them.  However, I felt very self-satisfied, and hope to continue.

You know I started selling fruitcakes in the fall of 2004, not knowing what it’d all mean.  At first I was renting the kitchen at the United Church, lugging stuff back and forth, and then had the commercial kitchen built downstairs.  For a few years I marketed hard to stores, and was hoping to grow to several thousand sales.

Then one day this spring I went, wait a minute.  This is an artisan product, and if I think I’m going to compete against Mrs. Willman’s mass-produced dreck, then I’ll kill myself.  After a full day of standing my knees are not really all that happy.  And this is followed by days where I don’t stand, and can recuperate.

Hence I’ve decided to keep the numbers much more reasonable, and to make retail sales my goal.  I’ve always dreamt of having a solely mail-order business, and I simply have to work on getting more people to my site to order.  So that’s my new goal: sell the product directly, make smaller numbers, and make the same amount of money.

Right now I’m making 300 pieces of chocolate bark for Source Furniture’s convention in Toronto in October.  My nerves are completely shot, as I still have to make some of the bark, never mind get the ribbon and package it all.  You may recall they ordered in the spring, and people loved it, so I’m thrilled to have them as a customer.

On Wednesday Kathy, her boyfriend David and I went to Osoyoos.  He’s just moved here from the prairies, and had never been to the South Okanagan.  He just loved it, and thankfully the weather was hot and beautiful.

We had lunch at mom’s, and then went to Oroville because Kathy insisted she wanted to buy cheap groceries.  When we crossed the border and the guard asked what we were planning to buy, I said, “Diet food.”

He said, “You’re coming HERE for diet food??” and I explained that the US always has way more variety in strange foods.  I then scoured Princes, but barely found anything vaguely interesting.  I got some frozen bars, sugar-free wafers, and some pudding which is largely inedible.

Today I have to produce my monthly newsletter, but first a trip to the gym is in order for a bit of detoxification. God knows I need it after the amount of Aspartame I’ve consumed since arriving home with the diet food.

 I was really proud of myself on Labour Day weekend, as I painted my bedroom, and it looks great.  The more projects I do, the more I improve with difficult implements such as screwdrivers and paint rollers.

There I was, removing switch plates, taping, painting and generally feeling like a tradesperson.  Unfortunately, I more closely resemble a bull in a China shop than an actual handyman.  I did things like whack my baby toe into the wall while moving too quickly, slamming my shins while climbing onto and off of the chair I used to reach high places, and so on.

But doing that must’ve improved the overall Feng Shui of the place, as things seem to be picking up a bit for the businesss.  Tin Horn Creek just placed a largish order for fruitcake, and Discover Wines re-ordered chocolate bark.  Even that did little to spur me on to start baking, though I forced myself to take inventory, and today I bought what I need to get started.

I haven’t heard boo from Choices Markets or Art Knapps, so am guessing they’re going to pass on my fruitcake.  What can one do?  The stores that now carry it every year are very glad they do, as by Thanksgiving people are asking for the fruitcake in the little white box.

I heard an interesting interview on CBC Radio the other day, something like How to Work with Millenials.  You know, our own brats.  I feel so sorry for business owners these days who have to hire these kids.  The interviewer was saying there’s a dearth of workers in the North, because the Millenials are like, “No thanks.”

And why should they do it, with mom and dad driving them to university, making their lunches, purchasing their clothes and dutifully returning the rejects?  Apparently, in order to get these zombies to work you have to entice them with incentives like free time, allow them to game on their phones, and insane stuff like that.

I would add that you have to ask them nicely, never chastise them, and then praise them soundly when the task is done, however poorly.  Hence it takes a human being with the patience of Job to hire and train these apathetic slobs.

It’ll be up to me to produce my fruitcakes this season, as I’m not hiring anyone, and am going to slug it out alone.  As upsetting as it’ll be, Nickly’ll have to help me label boxes, carry in product, and so forth.  But I think with the TV and radio as companions I should be able to copy with doing it on my own very nicely.

And God knows I have to start selling, as yesterday I went berserk and shopped in the mall prior to my hair appointment.  The bill for the hair itself is a nightmare amount due to the Herculean task before the hairdresser.  Hence my prayer: dear God, please let me remain true to my Type A Boomer self and not sink to the level of the lackadaisical Millenials.

I was a complete wreck after Jack Layton’s funeral on Saturday.  I’m the sort of person you just hate to have near you during a time of grief.  I always cry far harder than the directly bereaved.  Even someone who is good at remaining composed gets thrown off by someone like me who cries right into their face.

But then I suppose that’s what I have to accept about myself, as it counter-balances the times I’m flat on the ground, laughing at something inane.  I was watching an episode of Trailer Park Boys the other night, and killing myself.  It was the episode where Randy becomes the manager of the trailer park, and he has to remove dozens and dozens of Ricky’s dad’s pee jugs.

Nicky and Luke were quite insulted a while ago when I mulled over for the hundredth time who I’d cast for Trailer Park Boys.  I said, “You guys’d be Cory and Trevor.” As Cory and Trevor are so dumb they’re treated as pets, the boys were quite miffed at my suggestion.  No matter how I cast it though, my brother always gets to play Julian, as he’s a dead-ringer for him.

And now the good news: I found the shade of pink I was searching for and will be painting my bedroom this weekend.  Then I looked at this room, my office, and realized it needs painting, too.  Now I have to spend God knows how long choosing the right colour for in here.  You see why I can’t do anything?

This morning I moved four large house plants back into the house, causing a domino-effect of decorating changes.  This took a couple of hours, as I had to spend several minutes just standing and feeling the ambiance after each item was placed in its new spot.  When I say to people, “My home is my castle” they really have no idea how seriously I mean that.

Nicky’s finished his summer job as a warehouseman at Canadian Tire, and is preparing for school by eating.  I don’t know why, but after dinner he continues to have a salad bowl of cereal with half a litre of Creamo, then he gets into the chips and cookies.  Sadly, he is leaner than ever, so it’s just rude.

On Monday I met Kathy and her new boyfriend David, as well as Kathy’s relatives for some chicken wings and wine at their local pub.  There was a couple visiting from Germany, so I got to practice my German, which was fun.  Sadly, after drinking wine at the pub I had champagne at Kathy’s, and then I don’t think you’ll be surprised to hear I had to miss gym the following morning.

Because I love to laugh like a wild hyena whenever possible, I’ve made a list of comedies I have to rent one of these days.  The reason I don’t rent them is really quite sad; it’s because I don’t trust myself to be able to play a DVD.  It’s true.  I bought a camera in July, and it’s still in its box, even though I was so excited about the prospect of making cooking videos for You Tube.

But what can I do?  I try to focus on the positives, such as the moussaka I made for the first time that Nicky declared delicious.  We all have our strengths and weaknesses, which is probably a good thing.

I’m fortunate to be surrounded by people who inspire me.  When Alison was here early this month I invited mom and Gerry to come up for lunch.  For something different, I made a pitcher of Tom Collins’.  Actually, Vodka Collins’.  There were six of us for lunch, so I used 12 ounces of vodka.

To this one adds lemon juice, a bit of sugar and club soda, plus ice.  After Gerry had downed the last of his, he turned to mom and asked, “Was there alcohol in here?”  As you may recall, he’s 96 years old, and so I hope to God when I’m 96 I’ll be asking that very same question of someone.  Isn’t that inspirational?  To down a two-ounce highball, and then go, “What?”

Another insanely inspirational person is a woman named Pat from the gym.  She’s 77 years old, and is stepping and lifting weights with a vigor that stuns new members.  I love it when new young gals prance in, look at us fat/old babes, and think to themselves, “Watch this.”

Yeah, we watch them alright.  Too bad after a few minutes their fire hydrant red faces give them away as perhaps not quite as fit as they thought they were.  Even for us regulars it’s hard to compete with someone like Pat, as she even bikes to the freaking gym, for God’s sake.  Can you believe it?

For what I like to call United Church food, there’s no greater inspiration than Alison.  I mentioned in an earlier blog that she suggested pasta salad while here.  I’ve made it twice since, and Nicky and I just love it.  Not sure what it actually has to do with the United Church, but I kind of put foods like Jello and pasta salads in that category.  Blandness, maybe?

Now if I could just find some type of baking/marketing inspiration from someone.  It makes me sick the way I purposely hide from the business.  But honestly, I’m just too busy with all of my projects.  For example, on Saturday mom gave me half a dozen of Gerry’s water colours.

They were all unframed, so on Sunday I went to Value Village to look for ugly prints in nice matted frames that could work for my new art.  Then as I was at Value Village anyway, I decided to look at every other department, eventually leaving with three frames, ten dinner plates, three decorative pillows and eight place mats.

Today I had to invest time in searching for a new recipe for ground beef.  Nicky and I are getting kind of tired of the same old stuff.  Now I have a lovely Texas-style meatloaf in the oven, and if it’s any good, I’ll put the recipe in a newsletter.

Then believe it or not, I’m still on the hunt for the right shade of pink for my bedroom.  However, today I believe I may have found it, so will now be filling all of the holes, taping, etc. in preparation for painting on the weekend.

Hence, no time for fruitcake, but easily finding the motivation to garden, cook, decorate and shop.  What is up with that?

All I can do from morning until night is move sprinklers around, so I haven’t done a thing I’m supposed to be doing.  I thought idly of roasting some nuts, or chopping some chocolate, and went meh.  Perhaps once fall has properly arrived I’ll be motivated to do something for the business.

Besides, I prefer to devote myself to cooking and baking for my own purposes.  The other night I made a lovely dinner of wild salmon accompanied by fries made from my own potatoes, as well as broccoli and sweet potatoes, all grown right here in Kelowna.

Then I went into a bit of a cupcake mania, which was interesting.  I made a low-cal chocolate cupcake recipe from a cookbook I got from Jerralynn called Grazing by Julie Rosendaal.  It was Nicky’s 22nd birthday, so I made the cupcakes for our small family celebration last Friday.  Denis came over and we barbecued steaks.

But then on Nicky’s actual birthday, on Tuesday, I made sponge cake cupcakes from the Joy of Cooking cookbook.  I’ve never made boiled icing, so decided to give it a try.  Nicky decided he preferred the low-cal chocolate cupcakes to the fairly low-cal sponge cake.

Last evening I met Kathy and David for wings at the pub near her house.  Did you know cheap chicken wings on Wednesdays is a thing here at restaurants in Kelowna?  I had two lovely glasses of Gray Monk Gewurtztraminer with my spicy breaded wings, and it was a great combination.

The conversation came around to why we thought the youth were rioting in London.  I opined that it was much like the youth rioting at the Stanley Cup in Vancouver – just a bunch of brats on the loose with nothing to do.  I said they were obviously not raised in a European household, where one wasn’t even allowed to drag their feet, never mind break a store window.

Besides being asked to lift my feet while walking, my father made it clear he couldn’t stand yawning.  He considered it the height of rudeness.  Hyena-like laughing was out of the question.

I believe that our generation was so awed and frightened by their off-spring we couldn’t even tell them to sit up straight and eat with their mouths shut.

You reap what you sow, and now we’re all saddled with these louts who have neither manners nor guidance.  For examples, I guess shows like Jack Ass serve as what to do when bored.  And don’t get me wrong, I’ve watched a couple of Jack Ass movies myself, though I spent a lot of them covering my eyes and going, “ouch!”

Oh well.  Not everyone wants to spend their days wearing cute aprons and browsing cookbooks while wiping the backs of floured hands across their moistened brows.  But compared to looting I have to say it’s a lot more meditative.

We used to alternately be teased, or else tease fellow students in primary school with these types of rhymes.  Imagine how few girls chose to wear pink as a result of these brilliant little masterpieces.  Even we geniuses at Osoyoos Elementary Junior Secondary school faltered at rhymes for people wearing orange or purple.

I can’t understand what possessed me to think it would be easy to paint my bedroom pink, but on the surface it seemed quite simple.  Grab the May 2007 issue of Martha Stewart, which showcases her home in Maine, all painted a lovely shade of pink.  Take this to the paint department at Rona, and come home with your paint.

However, as the kind woman at Rona explained, the light in rooms varies, so you can’t really tell from a chip what you’re going to get.  Luckily I heeded her advice, and got a tester can of a pale pink.  I painted various parts of the wall, and can see that it’s going to be a bit of a trick getting a warm, rosy pink.

That damned Martha, eh?  I’ve done more insane things than I care to think about thanks to that woman.  I still remember quite a few years ago saying to Denis with some surprise, “I can barely get all of the things done that she suggests each month!” To which he explained, “But she has an entire staff helping her.”

It’s true, it’s just little old me doing all of it.  But some of  it can be fun, especially the creative aspects of life, like collecting.  In this month’s Martha she shows a collection of old recipe booklets.  They reminded me of being a kid and being fascinated by TV shows on CBC sponsored by Kraft Canada.

I come from a German family, so it was always fascinating to see Cheese Whiz, mini coloured marshmallows, lime jello and Whip ‘n Chill turned into a casserole for the family dinner.  My grandparents were always going, “ugh” but as a first-generation Canadian, I secretly yearned for strange food like that.

I guess I got over it, because there’s no Whip ‘n Chill in this house.  I continue to cook things like curried meatballs, Thai curried chicken, Greek pork chops, spaghetti and meat sauce, Greek style shrimp, cabbage rolls, and butter chicken for the child and myself.  My dream of a Philadelphia cream cheese with fruity marshmallows side salad will probably never come true.

On Saturday I had a humming bird stuck in the sun room, but by removing every screen it finally found its way out.  Then I went down to the vegetable garden and there were three adolescent quail in my greenhouse!  I had to show them the way out, and it was hard as that is a dumb breed of bird.

But you’ll be quite proud to know I took samples of fruitcake to the local Art Knapps.  Then I e mailed the guy from Choices who I met at the cherry event last month.  He replied that he sent the fruitcakes to head office in Vancouver.  So it’s all I can do at this time, and now back to the paint department for more chips and tester cans of pink paint.

 In case you’re wondering, farfalle is butterfly or bow-shaped pasta.  Thanks to my friend Alison’s inspiration, I was able to turn it into two different and very fabulous salads.

Alison arrived from Toronto on Sunday, following Margaret’s Friday departure and the surprise arrival from Luke on the same day.  It’s that joyous time of year in the Okanagan when the guest beds never really have a chance to cool down between visitors.

Another friend of 51 years, Liz, came to Kelowna and got Alison at the airport and they both arrived in time for dinner.  I made Jerralynn’s brown sugar and butter-topped salmon, and accompanied it with cucumber and potato salads and local green beans.  I made an apricot crisp for dessert, topped with dollops of whipped cream.

The potatoes came from my garden.  I dug them up on Sunday morning and we ate them for dinner on Sunday evening.  I love living like that.  We also made the trek up and down to the vegetable garden for herbs to add to all of the meals.

On Monday mom and Gerry came up for lunch, as they wanted to visit with Alison, and also Luke was home so it was fun.  I served the leftover salmon in a pasta salad made with the farfalle.  It was great with oil and vinegar and chopped fresh herbs.

On Tuesday we drove to Penticton and I brought lunch for Liz, Liza, Alison and me.  On the way home we had a yen for a bit of shopping, so stopped at Winners and then at a sweet wine shop in Guisachan Mall.

By the time we arrived home we needed the wine badly, so then decided to use the rest of the farfalle for yet another kind of quick and easy salad.  We shredded the leftover chicken we had, and added giant sliced olives, lemon juice, herbs and olive oil and voila, another fab dinner.

The wine went down like honey, so needless to say on Wednesday as I drove Alison to the airport I felt rather sick, but luckily able to drive.  As I always say, thank God for Gravol, as I don’t know what I’d do without it.

Luke left on the same day, so now it’s just back to Nicky and me, and peace and quiet.  I woke up this morning after a long sleep and felt great.  I adore having people visit, because I love Margaret, Alison and Luke, but I have to say I’m also the kind of person who can be alone very happily.

And then of course I’m supposed to be working on the fruitcake business, which makes me sick whenever I think of it.  However, to lull myself into beginning, I’ve decided the best approach is to spend the month prepping.  You know, chopping the chocolate and nuts and so on.  If I can just pretend I’m making ingenious recipes perhaps I can get through the drudgery of it.