I think I know why the bulk of people under 30 didn’t bother to vote.  Remember Goofy singing, “Oh, the world owes me a livin’. Doodle doodle doodle doodle do.” It’s this same amusing attitude that today’s youth display towards things like work.  Nicky can barely force himself to stay at work for 8 hours, one day a week.  And this for the princely sum of $24/hour to sit at a computer.

Marilyn works part time at the curling rink, and described the new kid they hired.  She said he already told her that he can’t work Sundays, Monday or Tuesday nights.  She asked him if he was working elsewhere as well, or in school, and he said, “No.”  I guess he just has prior engagements on those days.

I told her I want to go and apply for a job, and then at the interview say, “However, I go to fitness daily at 9:00, so can’t start until 10:30 and I need to be home by 4:00 so I can watch Oprah.  Weekends are out entirely as are evenings.”

I guess because I was paid 25 cents an hour to baby sit, which meant watching kids as well as doing dishes or whatever other chores were left for me to do, I have become impatient with the spoiled young.  On the weekend I dropped fruitcakes off at a store with a deli/bakery.  I said to the two young girls there, “These were ordered by the manager.  There’s an invoice and promo materials inside.”  To which one of them said, “This isn’t our department.”

I can thank mom’s rigorous training at the fruit stand for my ability to work like a mule and behave civilly to others.  We were taught basic etiquette towards customers, such as standing up when they came in, as well as greeting them.  Nowadays, the heavily-pierced and tattooed clerks at the till are too busy re-hashing the previous evening’s party for any of that fluff.

But as my mom, as well as yours, has pointed out to us hundreds of times, these brats are of our own making.  Mom and her friend Pearl were always beside themselves with the idea that kids would be asked something like, “Do you want Cheerios or toast for breakfast?”  In their day there was none of that.  Breakfast was served, and you ate it.  Choosing wasn’t allowed.

However, we were too busy feeling terrible about what we’d discovered to be true.  With both parents working full time outside the home child, raising kids is a horrible amount of work.  And by placating the little so and so’s we found that sometimes a moment or two of peace could be bought.  A bowl of sugar-coated cereal and a Bugs Bunny video often bought an extra bit of blessed sleep.  And really, how were we to know that by buying every Fisher-Price toy, Nintendo, Ninja Turtle sewer, pedal car and Wii that it was going to lead to all of this?

We usually go to my mom’s for Thanksgiving, and we did so again this year.  As always, Nicky is particularly keen on the ritual whereby each person takes a turn telling what they’re grateful for.  After everyone’s usual maudlin pap about family and the great country in which we live, when it was my turn, I said, “I’m grateful for my own chutzpah.”  And it’s true, as it’s been a whirlwind of a week.

First of all Mercury is still retrograde, which should have been my first clue.  When I mentioned this to Denis, he asked what that actually meant.  And this from someone who reads Scientific American!  I said, “Well, it’s when Mercury turns and faces, um, or it opposes Earth, and then, um…..” Anyway, I realized that this is all too complex for Denis so I just began listing the frustrations I’d encountered.

I’d been e mailing the Cookbook Company in Calgary, and hadn’t received a reply, so I phoned.  It turned out the person I’d been trying to reach was off on a maternity leave!  I told the person on the phone that by this time last year they’d ordered.  However, the person said they were currently heavily stocked with other product and would call me when they were ready.  I tried ever so gently to explain that Calgary customers had already been e mailing me, but to no avail.

As I’d received no reply to e mails I’d sent to Quality Greens in Kelowna, I went in.  There’s a new manager there, and he told me to call Leslie or Lisa, as they had apparently not received my e mails.  I did that, and was told that they’d perhaps start ordering mid-November.  I felt apoplectic as I have local customers phoning me and asking when the fruitcakes will appear in local stores.

G and H Foods in Westbank is a good customer, so a couple of weeks ago I’d e mailed the manager.  No reply.  I phoned and was told that he’s off for two weeks due to surgery!!  I couldn’t believe what was happening to me, and as Marilyn and I were baking that day I told her that I should just quit this idiotic business and get a job as a waitress.  I said, “This was a stupid idea.”  She tried to be sympathetic, but could tell that I was in a deep funk.

You know that old joke that goes something like a guy is praying “Dear God, please let me win the lottery.”  This goes on for years, and finally God says “Buy a damn ticket!”  So, I ‘bought a ticket.’  I e mailed every past customer and got some orders that way.  I phoned some new Buy-Low Foods, and got the stores in Vernon and Grand Forks willing to sample, and made an outright sale at the Lillooet store.  I e mailed Quality Greens with a firm message that now is the time to stock the product.  I called the Bench in Penticton and said the same.

Well, wouldn’t you know it?  That broke the spell.  The Bench ordered, Quality Greens e mailed back that I was right and should bring in a case of each ASAP.  Both the Osoyoos and Oliver Buy-Low Foods ordered.  I felt so relieved, and happily packaged my orders so we could deliver them on our way south for Thanksgiving dinner.  See?  Chutzpah works.

On the surface it does appear logical.  One has washed one’s clothes, and the dryer is now required.  However, the dryer is full of someone else’s clothes.  What to do?  One idea would be to put the clean clothes on the dryer, and another, more unorthodox one would be to throw them on the floor.

After I’d picked up my previously clean pillow cases, towels and underwear, I asked Nicky why he’d thrown everything on the floor.  He answered, “I was in a hurry.”  This is from someone taking philosophy at university.  He quotes ridiculous statements, then explains them with some ass-backwards reasoning, and says, “That’s logic.” I counter with, “Not to me, it isn’t.”  I never could understand any part of first-year philosophy when I took it, and I still can’t now.

My former business partner came by the other day and said, “I see you still have the piles of dirt in your yard.”  I said, “Those aren’t the old piles of dirt, they’re new piles.”  These are still leftover from The Big Garden Project in the spring.  I figure if I take one wheelbarrow full of dirt down to the vegetable garden a day, by next spring the yard will be clean.  That way, another car can either be put up on blocks, or if all else fails, we can just order another truck full of soil.

So the family and yard continue to act as handy hurdles to toughen me for the next few weeks.  But other than debating with Nicky, what to do to sharpen my seriously deficient mental acuities?  I’ve been busily purchasing inventory and baking, filling orders and shipping, and then I casually decided to see where I was at this time last year.  Mein Gott im Himmel!  I think I’ve been in some kind of stupor from all of the dieting.

By this time last year several stores had already ordered, so I hurriedly contacted them.  Thankfully, I’m now in Peppers Foods in Victoria and Stong’s in Vancouver.  Now if I can just coax orders out of my other regular customers then perhaps I can get this party started.  I now want orders flying out of here like Independents from the McCain/Pallin ticket.

Luke and his girlfriend are home from Calgary for the weekend.  It’s so sweet to think that only yesterday he was a small tot, and now here he is slicing a lime for his gin and tonic.  He and Nicky were reminiscing about how they would throw bits of uneaten food behind the books on the bookshelf downstairs.  It almost makes you want to go to their place and throw food around.

Because they’re only here for the weekend, we’re pretending it’s Thanksgiving so I’m making the entire turkey extravaganza.  I just have to pray to the Gods of Weight Watching that I’m able to eschew the pumpkin pie and whipping cream for dessert.  I have managed to squeeze off five pounds, and God knows, just one good night of horfing back the calories could easily have them return.

I’m quite sure that a loaf of bread and a container of honey are over my points limit on the Weight Watchers diet.  However, I’ve found that lately there’s no amount of self-talk that can keep me away from eating like a bear preparing for hibernation.  But when food is your best friend and solace during stressful times, maybe there’s no surprise in my need to wrap myself in it.

Please check this out: http://www.okanaganarts.com/fall08/schiller.php.   The editor of Okanagan Arts Magazine invited me to write an article about my business.  That, on top of the CBC Radio interview, has really driven the message home to people: Must Buy Fruitcake.  And when people are told that there is only a limited quantity available, it drives them crazy with desire.

As there are now only 87 days until Christmas, I have exactly 87 days left in my High Season.  I therefore know I can survive the 12-hour, seven-day-a-week schedule.  For comfort, however, a loaf of bread and a container of creamed honey come in mighty handy.

And speaking of wanton ingestion, Nicky eats Cold FX capsules like they’re candy.  It’s just ginseng, so I know it can’t hurt him, and I’m quite sure it does stave off colds.  He takes it because he’s paranoid that he’ll get sick and miss a party.  So, he enters into the three capsules, three times a day regime at the slightest tickle in his throat.  I try to keep my mouth shut, as I purchase the monthly supply for $55.

Luked phoned from Alberta and said he’s now making another $3,000/month on top of the astronomical amount he already makes!  This is the insane wealth coming from the dirty oil sands.  I’ve kept in touch with Luke’s favourite teacher, Gilles Leclerc, who he had in grade six.  I e mailed him that luke, with a 50.5% average upon graduation, now makes God Knows How Much money at an easy job.  He e mailed back, “That guy is like a cat.  He always lands on his feet.”

Landing on one’s feet can be a good goal in itself.  To motivate myself, yesterday I phoned the winery gift stores asking them if they needed more Okanagan Fruit and Rum bars.  I did this knowing that I have none made in advance.  Sure enough, an order was placed, and ta da! instant motivation.  Most people would be vomiting in a corner from this method, but it does seem to work for me.

So today I’ll bake and package, then tomorrow deliver the bars as Marilyn and I are heading south to Osoyoos for a visit with mom and Gerry.  That day of leisure will be it for quite a while, as we still have 2,000 fruitcakes left to bake, and about 6,000 fruitcakes to package!  Am I nervous?  I’m not sure, but I’ll let you know after I’ve eaten this piece of toast slathered in honey.

Of course I’m thrilled by the incredible response to my second interview on CBC’s Sounds Like Canada show yesterday.  People are ordering like sailors on shore leave at Happy Hour.  At least two people so far have ordered more than 10, and the other hundred or so usually order between two and four.  However, as I’m now going flat-out to fill these orders, I would appreciate it if those around me would at least act busy.  I find it quite irritating when the people around me are laughing and appearing to enjoy their little lives.

My new web designer possesses the spooky and weird skills of his ilk, and hence was able to show me on a graph the huge spike in the number of hits to my website.  By noon yesterday I had received over 10, 500 hits!  It’s been very exhilarating, but frightening at the same time.

On a happier note, I still manage to attend to the requisite beauty regimes.  As you know, I’ve joined Weight Watchers, which has done very little to date.  The other week I noticed I could no longer stand the large frown between my eyes so had to have botox injected into that.  Then I noticed that my hair is looking really bad, so next week it’s off to the hairdresser.  All of this adds up to almost a grand, and for what?  So an old fruitcake monger has the strength to hand out business cards to strangers.

I did that on Thursday night at the monthly networking event put on by the Chamber of Commerce.  If you’ve ever been to one, you know it takes every ounce of intestinal fortitude to make yourself go.  You walk into a room full of strangers, and then start speaking to some in the hopes you can jam a business card down their throats.  All things considered, it went fairly well, and perhaps one connection could lead to a corporate order.

I also still manage to squeeze in the odd bit of household instructions to Nicky.  The other day he was putting his laundry into the washing machine.  I said, “If you un-crumple your socks they’ll get cleaner.”  He asked what I meant.  I explained by showing him that if a sock went in his way, ie straight off the foot, inside out and half of it still folded into itself, it will get much less clean than if one straightens out the whole sock.  He was as amazed by that concept as I am by MSN.

My dear mentor from CBC, Prerna, had at one point suggested that perhaps I should offer to make gift baskets for people.  She thought my fruitcake paired with local wine would be a lovely idea.  I had to gently and carefully explain that I am almost in a mental institution from packaging the fruitcakes, and that the addition of more products would most certainly lead to one of those horrible murder/suicide situations on Hall Road.  All it would take would be one raucous guffaw of happiness from one of the family members, and that would be it.

It’s hard to believe.  I used to eat more butter in a day than an entire Nicaraguan family eats in a year, and after two weeks of starvation, I’ve lost a grand total of 1.5 pounds!  It’s quite discouraging, as I’m saintly in what I allow down my gullet.  No more Eggo waffles swimming in butter and syrup.  I’m now spraying a bit of Pam into a pan and scrambling two eggs instead.  And for all of that, I have lost one and a half pounds!

There is very good news on the business side of things, though.  The nice produce of CBC Radio’s show Sounds Like Canada, Jen Moss, has invited me back for another interview for their final segment on small business.  They invited one other entrepreneur and me, and we’ll be asked about the progress we’ve made as a result of having been assisted by CBC.

In particular, I’d have to say having a business coach has been invaluable.  The fear of having said I’ll do something and then not having it done just isn’t worth it.  And it’s not because Prerna is mean, it’s merely fear of disappointing her.  Along with her I also have weight loss coaches around me at Weight Watchers, and fitness coaches at the gym, so pretty soon I should be almost perfect.

There is a dear little instructor at the gym who tried one of my Okanagan Fruit and Rum Bars and said she loved it.  The other day she mentioned that she could really use one, so the next day I put one in my bag for her.  I actually hummed and hawed about whether I should give her another bar, if you can believe anything so stupid.  But, then I thought, “Oh for God’s sake, this kid needs the damn bar, give it to her.”

I handed her the bar, and she said how much she appreciated getting another one, and then added, “My boyfriend’s mom is a food distributor in Alberta.  I’m planning to give her one of these for Christmas.  Maybe she’ll decide to take you on.” And you see, the moral is that had I been cheap and anal, I would sitting here wondering how to grow the business.

Word of mouth seems to be working slowly, as I had someone inquire if they could buy an Okanagan Harvest Cake to help them decide if they wanted to buy it as gifts for Christmas.  The customer had asked in particular about the sweetness.  I told her that 2 cups of sugar make 14 cakes, so only about 1/7 of a cup of sugar per cake.  She lived downtown, so I dropped one off, and told her to let me know what she thought, and drove home.

When I got home and checked my e mail, I got a message from her saying that the cake had lasted for about 10 minutes.  She said she’d eaten the entire thing, and that convinced her to buy them as gifts, but she said she would not be ordering any more of them for herself.  It’s perverse, really, as I’m actually supplying the customers to Weight Watchers with my own products.

Nicky started back to school at UBC Okanagan, and Luke is happily working away in Alberta.  Denis has started a program by distance education from Royal Roads University, so everyone appears to have their own special purpose.  I’ve been living in a strange netherworld of denying what I know to be my destiny.  To repress the thought of putting 6,000 fruitcakes into their individual little boxes, I drove down to Osoyoos on Wednesday to spend the day with my mom and Gerry.

As I’ve said many times before, I don’t think there’s a more beautiful place than the south Okanagan.  The Valley is so narrow there that the highway skirts the fruit-laden orchards.  One could just as easily be in Italy.  Turning off Highway 97 onto the little road I’ve known since the day I was born always lifts my spirits.  I park in front of mom’s house and walk in to the thrilled delight of little Schwartzie, the psychotic poodle.

On the drive home I realized I’d managed to spend an entire day away from the many things I’m supposed to be doing.  Oh well.  As I recall, even though I felt sick with fear and exhaustion, I did manage to get all of my orders out last season.  I had just somehow hoped that something different would happen to me this year.  I had envisioned baking slowly away day by day, packaging as I went along.

Instead, I decided to read endlessly throughout January and February, taking a nice trip to Nicaragua for a bit of R and R to boot.  Spring found me developing the new Okanagan Fruit and Rum Bars, and as that was way more fun than baking, I concentrated on marketing those.  By summer Marilyn and I had indeed started baking in earnest, but here it is my High Season, and as I said last week, I am halfway to my goal.

And it is imperative that I reach that goal, as once again the kind people of CBC Radio’s Sounds Like Canada show shone a spotlight on my business.  On Friday, the producer was summarizing the business series for the new host, and a clip from my interview was played!  As people continue to hear about my fruitcakes, they will certainly feel a compulsion to order.  You know what they say, “Continual dripping wears away the stone.”

As my baby boy will be 22 next week, and is far away in Alberta, I sent a bunch of things via his girlfriend.  She left yesterday as she plans to attend SAIT in Calgary.  So I, the Sainted Mother, made white chocolate chunk cookies.  Then, I met Michelle at Winner’s and we also went to a store called Spare Parts, reported as being cool by Nicky.  We picked out an assortment of clothes, then got what is apparently de rigueur, a Nixon brand watch (?).  And did you know that digital is very, very uncool?  I thank God that I have the children to keep me in the loop.

It’s the anniversary of dear Princess Di’s early demise.  What a night that was!  It was completely unlike today, in that it was stinking hot.  Today it’s slightly cool, though sunny, but feels so much more like late fall than the last day of August!  Quite disappointing, but the garden seems to like it.  Right now the garden reminds me of a saxophone, all mellow and full-bodied.  The concord grapes are turning purple, and the pyrancantha is turning orange.

How is this for an example of a fine slap in the face?  Last Tuesday I finally bit the bullet and walked into Weight Watchers and signed up.  Each and every human being to whom I’ve since said, “I joined Weight Watchers,” has answered with, “good for you!”  Not, “But you’re far too thin for that.”  It certainly made me realize that this was a timely decision.

And then of course the adorable and funny parts of being on a diet kick in.  You know the ones.  You look longingly at food which in the past you would have considered beneath you.  My, how inviting that 2% cottage cheese now looks.  1% milk makes me salivate.  The whole thing is an interesting Zen experience, and one which I find tests me to my limits.  However, if it works, then I’ll be looking good for my High Season, which sadly, is upon me.

I had the most wonderful feedback from Monda Rosenberg, Food Editor of Chatelaine Magazine.  I had sent her samples of each of my fruitcakes, and she e mailed back that they were ‘wonderful.’  Imagine!  She also said that some of her staff do not like fruitcake, yet they loved mine.  I was pretty high for the rest of the day after that.

Unfortunately, she also said that the December issue is already made, but that I should contact them next spring, which I’ll certainly do.  I mentioned it to one of my pals from the gym, and she deftly pointed out that it was certainly a blessing in disguise not to make this year’s issue.  And she’s totally right, as I’ll be a quivering mass by this Christmas, just in supplying my current market.

It’s the Labour Day weekend, which I find odd, as it’s so early this year.  Kind of like Easter was.  In any case, it’s always the weekend to review clothing, to shun the unwanted and to make lists of what is absolutely required for the season.  To assist, I like to buy those super-fat September issues of Vogue and In-Style magazines. 

It was a lot of work, but I think this is where I am for the fall:  I have the usual 30 pairs of shoes, but really do need some basic black pumps.  The pants situation is good, but the tops situation, especially sweaters, is bad.  So, in honour of Princess Di, off I go to remedy this deplorable situation.

My friend Bev was here from the Coast for a couple of days.  I met Bev 30 years ago when we were both teachers of the deaf in Prince George.  When you meet at a young age in a challenging place like that, you bond.  In those days, Prince George was a rough and tumble kind of a mill town with winters that would stun an Antarctic penguin. So of course whenever Bev and I get together we recall old stories and laugh ourselves silly.

Living in a town with a pulp mill meant that sometimes the sulfuric, rotten egg smell would get stuck in your vehicle or home.  Actually, at 30 degrees below zero, I found that food smells, like the remnants of a burger and fries, would stay in the car for hours.  As I worked as an itinerant teacher for a while, I found the passenger foot well was the ideal receptacle for garbage.  I pitied the fool who asked for a ride in my car.

A favourite pastime for Bev and I has always been shopping, in which we heartily indulged ourselves.  When she was here, our first stop was Value Village, where would you believe, I found one of those dear, rare chenille queen-sized bedspreads.  Delirious from that, I happened upon an antique piping gun (for cake frosting) with a myriad of screw-on tips.  Now I just want to bake myself into a complete stupor, making butter cream rosettes by the hundreds.

We then sauntered into Winner’s, and spotted the sign that causes the pulse to race: Final Clearance.  Not just Clearance, but Final Clearance.  It’s like a moose call to a hunter.  We raced to the racks and when it was all over I ended up with a beautiful Josephine Chaus top for $15.00 and a summer skirt for $10.00.  If I had a roof rack I could’ve tied my purchases to the top and driven my trophies home for all to see.

It hasn’t been all joy, though.  Nicky turned 19 last weekend, and to celebrate he drank countless shots of tequila, punched his van, and broke his hand!  This perplexing display of stupidity caused him to spend two days waiting for surgery and feeling like an idiot.  The good news is that he’s sworn off alcohol, at least for now, so though a hard-learned lesson, it was a good one.

Not much forward movement occurred in the business this week, but I noticed that I have a new compulsion.  I now relentlessly count the number of boxes that hold sealed fruitcakes.  Each box holds about 30, so my goal is to have 200 boxes filled.  I believe I’m at number 104, so am consoling myself with the fact that I’m over halfway to my goal of 6,000 fruitcakes.  However, maybe I should re-count as perhaps I’ve made more than I actually thought……

Every room in our house has vents for heat and air, except one.  That happens to be the kitchen downstairs where Marilyn and I produce over 300 fruitcakes in two days.  Luckily, I still have the wonderful Monarch brand fan that my grandparents had in their house.  They bought it at the Osoyoos Hardware Store sometime around 1966.  I have fond memories of lying on their living room carpet, watching TV, fan set on high.

In those days it was often around 40 degrees in the summer.  My grandparents’ tiny house had no air conditioning, and was really poorly insulated as well.  However, we managed to survive, though I can’t imagine doing it now.  Last night we had to leave the air conditioning on all night due to the extreme heat.  At my grandparents’, we would open the windows at night and pretend that it was cool.

It’s been a good week for the business, as I received a nice e mail from Dufflet Rosenberg saying she wants to carry Totally Decadent Fruitcake at her stores this Christmas.  This means I’ll be in a store in Toronto for the first time, and can perhaps direct Toronto customers there.  This would save postage, as I know some people are shocked by what Canada Post charges for one fruitcake.

I had re-orders of the Okanagan Fruit and Rum Bars from the local wine museum, as well as Tin Horn Creek Winery in Oliver.  Wonderfully, I made contact with Monda Rosenberg (no relation to Dufflet), the Food Editor for Chatelaine Magazine.  She very kindly said she’d sample my product, though sadly the December issue is already in the can.

I also bit the bullet and asked for quotes on business cards, letter head and my coloured flyer.  As well, I ordered 5,000 Totally Decadent labels and also my bags for vacuum-sealing.  I figure there’s no longer any point in pretending that this isn’t really going to happen.  I’ve acted like that in the past, and then as you know, at the last minute I was labeling, packaging and crying.

Though it’s one of the most unpleasant things a person can do, I decided to rent a booth for one last year at the monster Christmas craft fair in November.  On the positive side of things, I asked a clerk at the downtown postal outlet for information on how I could calculate postage myself.  She very kindly said that she will accept my parcels as they are, and she’ll gladly do my my orders for me! “Ask and ye shall receive” is so true.

So, an incredibly busy and productive week’s gone by, in spite of all of us nearly keeling over from the heat.  I often think of my granny, making three or four dozen jars of jam a day in her incredibly hot kitchen.  She did this for the entire summer, seven days a week, for my mom’s fruit stand.  That’s why two days of baking a week in a hot kitchen is nothing to complain about!