I’m sitting here madder than a wet hen, as there is just boring Olympics coverage on TV today.  I don’t care a whit about soccer or basketball, so hopefully we’ll soon get into the fun stuff.  It’s funny because whenever the Olympics start I have no idea who the athletes even are.  But then I watch the heats and suddenly I’m whipped into a media frenzy and have a favourite for whom I’m cheering.

While I’m waiting for something decent, I’m killing time by making peach and apricot jam.  I already made some cherry jam, so will have a nice little cache for the winter.  I’m also marinating some chicken in yogurt, onions, garlic and a bunch of East Indian spices as I’m making tandoori chicken for dinner tonight.

I had a session with my dear mentor, Prerna today, so that helps in getting me back onto the program.  I remember once going to one of those diet centres where you meet with a counsellor weekly, and it does help.  The shame you feel in letting your counsellor down is very great.  So, I made a few promises to Prerna, and I do pray that I’ll be able to keep them.

First of all, by the end of August I want to have the ordering page of my website under control.  I also want to add a page for corporations and conventions who may want to order something adorable like my Okanagan Fruit and Rum Bar.  Prerna also reminded me that I said I would try to contact the Food Editor of Chatelaine Magazine.  Finally, I have to learn how to do my own postage calculations or I’ll be shot at the post office.

Imagine being in a line-up at the post office in December, and seeing me come along.  Last December I had all of those orders from Nova Scotia and Red Deer, Alberta.  I was at the post office every two or three days, lugging dozens of parcels of various sizes.  People were not at all impressed if they were behind me, and the postal workers also said, “Look lady.  We’ll do it this year, but if this continues you’ll have to do your own postage.”

The above tasks need to be added to the current mania that surrounds making 300 fruitcakes a week.  However, Prerna said that she may be able to wangle me onto the Food Network, and if that, or City TV or Chatelaine happen, then I had better be ready with product.  Wouldn’t that just be the most embarrassing situation to have marketed like a lunatic only to not have enough fruitcakes?

Actually, that isn’t funy as it’s one of the small business owner’s worst nightmares.  It reminds me of the dream I have from time to time where I’m about to take an exam, however I’ve never attended one class.  Or else, I’m a teacher and have been hired to teach French immersion, yet speak no French.  I’m happy to report that after 40 years I no longer dream I forgot my locker combination.

I’m now in full production, baking-mode, and it’s hell.  I’ve now set a goal of baking 6,000 fruitcakes this year.  So, anyone being number 6001 wanting a fruitcake is going to be out of luck.  Then, if I meet that goal in sales, I can take some time next January to figure out if that’s going to be my maximum.  I plan on doing this thinking on a sandy tropical beach.

In the meantime, the Okanagan is beautifully hot and sunny.  The peppers and tomatoes are prolific, and I have the most adorable baby eggplant!  I also have a couple of tiny watermelons and so much broccoli I don’t what to do with it.  Does anyone out there need about fifty pounds of Swiss chard??  It’s really quite amazing the amount of stuff even a small garden produces.

Denis’ sister Margaret, and her son Brendan, are currently here so I’m able to make meals from all the local produce.  Last night we had wild Coho salmon with a brown sugar and butter glaze, accompanied by roasted new potatoes and local corn.  For dessert I made an apricot crisp that was juicy due to the large amount of butter.  Nonetheless, a further dollop of whipping cream was required for the top.

Margaret wondered if I minded that she needed to go to Winner’s to look for shorts.  I replied that I had no difficulty whatsoever with that, and so we spent a pleasant couple of hours browsing about and getting just the absolute necessities.  I got some dear yoga pants, so comfy for lounge-wear, and Margaret got a pair of shoes and a short, dressy jacket.

Instead of being filled with impotent rage over the proposed development next door, I’ve been able to join a committee formed in our neighbourhood opposed to this.  The people who organized this have done a fabulous job of presenting the reasons why this ecologically sensitive area should not be developed.  Sadly, however, I don’t think the city council gives a damn about stuff like that.

There are all manner of creeks and ponds along Hall Road, as we’re so close to Mission Creek.  You would think that there would be some rudimentary understanding of the importance of protecting this, but apparently not.  The developer proposed putting 32 lots in right beside us, and I guess the city said, “Go ahead.  If no-one objects, you can do it.”

Thankfully, however, we appear to have joined the ranks of Canadians who’ve said they are as mad as hell, and they’re not gonna take it anymore.  It’s kind of refreshing, really, to think if a person sees something insane, that they might actually be able to at least try and do something about it.  I can’t stop the pine beetles, but maybe I can help stop the degradation of the precious marshlands around us.  Betty Krawczyk #2 is here!

Denis has been ignoring a growing wasp population outside the pet door, and sure enough, little Ricky was stung above his eye yesterday.  He let out the loudest pain-filled yelp, and shortly after he had a grape-sized lump above his eye.  As it was a Saturday, I was envisioning an expensive emergency vet fee due to an allergic reaction, but the dog was fine.  So, money saved from the vet, off we all went for a nice dinner.

It was the perfect night to go out, as Luke has accepted the lucrative oil field job, and is leaving for Calgary on Monday.  I envision him with a kerchief, filled with his paltry possessions, tied around the end of a pole.  Marching off with the pole on his back, bravely beginning a new life….In reality, however, he’s taking the plane.

Luke and his girlfriend Michelle, Nicky, Denis and I sat outside at one of the local establishments.  We’re actually quite fortunate to have a couple of restaurants within walking distance of our semi-rural home.  However, when I say ‘walking distance’ I don’t mean that we actually walk.  One could walk, should one wish to be so conscientious.

We ordered and then proceeded to eat a rather large amount of food.  When I remarked on the volume, Denis said, “why not, it’s Saturday night” as though we did this on a weekly basis.  After appies of nachos and calamari, we ate main dishes of burgers, wraps and stir fries.  Nicky and I insisted on desserts.  Just because I could, I ordered a Spanish coffee and came home feeling exhausted.

I’m sure the exhaustion is the accumlation of two heady days of baking with Marilyn.  We made over 300 fruitcakes, and now I have to vacuum seal and package them.  Then go to the store for ingredients, get another $500 worth of brandy, and be ready to start baking all over again.  It really is a filthily expensive product and one has to have nerves of steel for the debt it engenders.

Oh well, what’s a line of credit for, anyway, if not to help us purchase those vital items.  One of which is the dear greenhouse, which has produced the first ripe tomato of the season.  Today I had it for lunch on a sandwich, and it was fabulous.  I love going down to my garden with a sharp knife.  I cut heads of broccoli and cauliflower, slice cucumbers from their vines, and pick the outer leaves of my lettuce.

The dogs are intrepid birders and the other day I saw a pair of baby bird feet sticking out of Ricky’s mouth.  He and Mojo have been eating quite a lot of them, so I know my dream of putting a chicken coop down in the garden would be counter productive.  I can only dream of the day when I have the bee hive, chickens, a cow, a miniature horse or two (as pets) and of course the ubiquitous vegies.

Last week Luke said that his friend Dan, aka The Boarder, had asked him if he wanted a job that would pay a potential of $90,000 a year.  Dan, being an extremely ambitious and hard-working young man, moved to Alberta two years ago.  He’s since gotten himself a well-paid job in the oil field.  He’s already a supervisor, and hence was able to offer Luke this job.

I hesitated for a moment, but had to ask the question.  I said, “What did you tell him?”  Luke said, “I told him I’d have to think about it.”  I couldn’t answer for a moment, as I knew an inappropriate response might scuttle the whole deal.  Finally I asked, “Is it a horrible labouring job like dangerous oil drilling?”  Luke said, “God no!  I’d be sitting in a shack looking at a computer telling the drillers where to drill.”

Of course, one is stunned by their own off-spring, and I wonder if these moments don’t aid and abet something as sinister as the formation of a kidney stone.  In reality, of course, the experts tell us that it is due to dietary factors, but sometimes one has to wonder.

Remember all of my mirthful tales of sloth and over-indulgence?  Finally, on Monday morning the system reached overload and I went into renal colic.  If you’ve ever had a kidney stone and are reading this, you are wincing.  If you’ve never had one, just pray to God that you never do.  It’s about as close to feeling like dying as you will ever come.

I spent Monday in hospital on morphine, but was let out at dinner time.  I was sick and in pain for the next four days, but I must say I’m right as rain today.  It’s a great feeling after having been that sick.  And really, what better way to celebrate surviving such a thing but a trip to Winner’s to browse the shoe section.  I honestly do need a pair of semi-dressy black sandals.  Honestly.

Marketing for the business was out of the question for the past week, but I was happy to see myself described as “Writer and Culinary Artist” in the summer issue of Okanagan Arts Magazine.  Whether it’s true or not, it’s a heady feeling to be graced with those terms.

Even half-dead I managed to listen to Sounds Like Canada on Thursday and they had an adorable segment of listeners’ ads for selling fruitcake in July.  The orders continue to dribble in, and I even managed to send an emergency request.  One of my dear customers was having a shower on Friday night and wanted six fruitcakes.  Near death, yet determined, the intrepid entrepreneur makes her way to the post office……..

And so, the puzzlement over the lack of genetic conference of the ambition gene remains.  Oh well, the kid did say that he has now indicated to Dan that he wants the job in Alberta, so perhaps we will have a happy result after all.

Yesterday started with great excitement, as I’d been told by the producer of Sounds Like Canada that my business was going to be mentioned again. She said that CBC was going to invite people to write ads for selling fruitcake in July. Marilyn and I were baking our little hearts out anyway, so we had CBC on and heard the piece. It was very funny, because CBC had made up a skit about fruitcake, reminiscent of the fake orgasm scene in When Harry met Sally.

Then, the phone rang, and a nice woman said she and her friend were at Summerhill Winery, and that they wanted to come and buy fruitcake. They’d been on their way to BC from Ontario by car, and heard the interview on CBC last week. So, they had me on their ‘to do’ list. They arrived to the usual cacophony of barking from the three dachshunds. I had to do the usual, “heh, heh, heh, don’t mind them” routine.

They settled on five fruitcakes, and one of them went to the car to get some money. She came in ashen, saying there was a problem. Her friend and I, oblivious to what had occurred outside, were like, “What problem?” She explained that one of the dead Ponderosa pines on our property had been knocked down in a sudden wind gust, and had hit their car!

Sure enough, when we went out, there was the damn tree lying on their vehicle. There was a warning about high winds that day, and it suddenly had gotten dark and stormy, but of course no-one expected a tree to come down right at that moment. Of course I blamed Denis, who was still not home from his motorcycle trip, as he should have removed that tree.

Luckily, the women were super nice, and drove off to find a glass repair shop and make an insurance claim. Marilyn and I resumed our day of baking, wondering what on earth it all meant.

The good news is that the on-line sales have continued as a result of now having been mentioned three times on Sounds Like Canada. One customer sent me the nicest note about how much she adored both kinds of fruitcakes. Something like that just makes a person’s day.

Then today I made another sale to a winery store of Okanagan Fruit and Rum Bars, bringing the total number of stores carrying it to lucky 13! And speaking of that, on Sunday the 13th it’s my birthday. To celebrate, Denis, the boys and I are off to Osoyoos tomorrow to party with my mom and Gerry. My only brother, Freddie, and his wife and girls will be there, too, so it’ll be a Schiller reunion.

And no, we’re not taking the three dachshunds with us. They’re going to stay at home and be lovingly babysat by Fran, a trained vet technician who is able to put up with noisy dogs.

Denis left last weekend with one of his brothers on one of those silly motorcycle excursions.  They went to San Diego, returning in a week or so.  Then, on Monday night Nicky left for three days of camping with his girlfriend.  I therefore found myself gloriously and happily alone.

Do you remember that dog on the cartoon Huckleberry Hound?  When someone threw him a biscuit he would go “ooh”, “ahhh”, “mmm” as he floated up, crossing and re-crossing his arms to hug himself, going sideways and floating back down to earth.   He was just so damn happy, and that was me on Hall Road for the past three nights.

First of all, dinner was always ready within five minutes of my starting to make it.  I made as much noise in the house as I felt like, especially at dawn when I love to race around singing.  I’ve always been partial to big musicals, so one of my favourites is Oh What a Beautiful Morning!  In any case, the dogs seemed okay with it, though they cowered a bit at times.

It was over 30 degrees every day, so I had the air conditioner on non-stop.  One night the dogs were all under the blankets with me, and it was actually chilly!  Denis thinks air conditioning is poisonous, and should only be used very sparingly.  Certainly at night, he wants the windows open.  I keep telling him that he’s completely insane, but he won’t stop doing it.

Sadly, though, it ended at noon today when Nicky arrived home, all lovely and tanned from three days at the lake.  He promptly got ready for a nap, but asked if I could please put his clothes in the dryer for him.  It’s just as well, really, because I need to snap out of my euphoric mood and get ready for whatever the universe has in store for me.

As anyone who has ever had any reason to speak with me about fruitcake knows, today I was on CBC Radio’s show, Sounds Like Canada.  I immediately had orders coming in, so it has been totally wonderful.

On Monday I have another brain storming session with Prerna Chandak, the amazing young entrepreneur with whom I’ve been paired.  She’s like having a personal coach – she will kick my butt, and that’s a good thing.

With any luck, Nicky was napping to get his strength up for a night on the town.  That way, it’ll just be me, the three hounds and the two tabby cats.  The pets’ll be in for an evening of a pretty distorted imitation of Tom Cruise in Risky Business.  There will be underwear involved, but that’s where the similarities will end.

Quelle joie! I have several tomatoes and one adorable little green pepper in my vegetable garden.  Being completely stupid, I had no idea that the onions were to be separated, so planted the clump and of course they died.  However, I have so much chard and lettuce that I made my first delivery to the food bank last week.  The other day I said to Denis, “Get used to having a salad nightly.”

But even more thrilling than the vegetables is my recent spate of luck regarding CBC Radio.  The wonderful producer of Sounds Like Canada set me up with two entrepreneurs, and I was able to tell each of them about my business, and they each gave me suggestions.  Needless to say, I’ve been ruminating about each and every one of them ever since.

The first person with whom I spoke is a very successful bakery owner in Toronto named Dufflett Rosenberg.  She’s been in the business for 30 years and has three very popular and successful bakeries.  Upon hearing of my tiny, silly, wee business, she suggested that there may be nothing wrong with staying small.

She pointed out that I have a lovely lifestyle, and this would certainly be compromised by insane, rapid growth.  Dufflett thought if I sold more to customers directly, rather than to stores, I could bake the same amount, but make more money.

The second person I had the great pleasure to speak with is a 20-year-old go-getter named Prerna Chandak.  She has a business which assists young entrepreneurs access funds.  I spoke with her for 45 minutes, and again, another poor person had to listen to the story of Nuttier.  However, she was completely enthused by my story, and suggested as she has connections in Toronto, that she might be able to get me onto City T.V.  If that happens, well then you can say, “I knew her when.”

However, both women cautioned that this sudden infusion of fame will bring offers and ideas from others, and that I’ll have to remain completely focused on my goal.  Because I’m as malleable as Plasticene on  hot summer’s day, I know I’ll have some difficulty with this.

On Wednesday at 8:45 AM I’m to be at the local CBC Radio studio where my interview will be taped, and then hopefully it’ll be played on Sounds Like Canada on Friday, July 4th.  Once that’s happened, I’ll just have to see what the fates bring my way.  After all, just three weeks ago I was just an unknown fruitcake monger on a mission, and now I’ll be on national radio.  Quelle joie!

As you may recall, last week I’d e mailed CBC Radio’s Sounds Like Canada show about my business.  Can you believe it, but the producer left a message saying that I was one of two people chosen!  She said I would be paired with a marketing student, and perhaps interviewed on the air.  After leaving messages back and forth for two days, we finally spoke at length, after which she said, “We are definitely going to interview you on the air!”

I guess there’s something inherently funny about a fruitcake business, as well as the type of insane individual who would envision such a thing.  And perhaps I am going mad from it, as witnessed by a dream I had in which I was constantly packing and unpacking.  When I went to my favourite dream interpretation site, it said this generally denotes chaos.  I guess that pretty much sums it up right now.

Not only am I going to be on CBC Radio, but I’ve also browbeaten business reporter Steve MacNaull of the Daily Courier to write another fruitcake update.  Plus, there’s the upcoming article in the summer issue of Okanagan Arts Magazine!  With the help of the marketing student, coupled with this flurry of media exposure, I guess it’s understandable if I’m trying to work things out even in my sleep.

It’s really just the same old thing.  I phoned some people to follow up re: the Okanagan Fruit and Rum bar.  Several said “No thanks.”  This drives me into a tailspin of hopelessness.  Then, I remember what’s to come media-wise, and my blood runs cold as I imagine the thousands and thousands of orders I’ll have to fill.  This cycle continues all day until I fall into bed, exhausted.

In the midst of this, I drove home behind a car whose customized license plate read, Let Go.  I read it, and thought nothing more of it.  However, the words came into and out of my head for the next couple of days, and I was thinking to myself how strange a coincidence it was.  Then it finally hit me that of course, this was not coincidence!  It was the universe saying that I really do need to let go.

And when I  do honestly and completely say and feel those words, I feel fantastic.  Plus, there’s always my sainted mother giving me pep talks, such as “So what if it doesn’t work out?  It doesn’t matter.”  To which I beg to differ, but I understand the philosophy of thinking of the worse thing that could possibly happen.

On the up side, mom has decided to become my image advisor, as she’s sure the Ellen Degeneres show is next.  However, she said I’ll need a signature look, such as Hill’s pantsuits or Martha’s tailored shirts.  As I’ve just eaten an entire iced angel food cake over the past two nights, I’m voting for a muumuu for summer, and a flowing tunic for winter.

Working from home can be lethal.  Yesterday around noon I thought I may as well turn on the TV while I ate my chicken salad sandwich.  I tuned in to KCTS, the public television station, and saw that Deepak Chopra was on.  It was one of his talks about how to find happiness.  As I watched and listened to his words about the Buddha, I became completely and deeply relaxed.  Wouldn’t you know it, by 1:00 PM I was soundly asleep!

Damn!  That can really cut into a person’s schedule.  However, I decided that I had probably burnt myself out the day before.  I had bravely gotten into the van, loaded it with some Okanagan Fruit and Rum bars, and took my dog and pony show on the road.  I drove south, and managed to hit a total of eight stores.  As luck would have it, I made a sale at Summerland Sweets.  I’d never been to their store before, and I would recommend it as a darling place to take out-of-town visitors.

I’ve now been to 29 stores, and 11 of them have bought.  I now need to hound those who said they were going to sample the product and get back to me….. nicely, of course.  I’m fanatical for round numbers, so either want to get four or nine more stores.  Next week I’m going north, so will hit places like the O’Keefe Ranch in Vernon as they have a gift store.  Anywhere the intrepid tourist lurks, there lurks my product.

You know how I love entering any CBC Radio contest presented to me.  I feel this one is fated to be The One.  As I left Hainle Vineyards in Peachland on Tuesday, Sounds Like Canada guest host Katherine Gretsinger was doing an article about small business.  Then she said, “We’d love to hear from small business owners out there.”  Apparently, they’ll pick some and pair them with marketing students.

I sent them an e mail yesterday about my dear fruitcake business, so am keeping my fingers crossed.  Wouldn’t it be fabulous to be chosen?  And why not, as who needs more help than a fruitcake monger?  Only someone making stuff out of spinach or liver would need more help.

It’s finally sunny today, so I’m heading down to the vegetable patch to do some watering, and will try to regain the tan I began in Nicaragua.  Wonderfully, I’ve begun picking leaves from the Swiss chard and curly lettuce on a daily basis.  After that bit of fun I need to bake and package, and so I just prey there’s no more Deepak Chopra on TV or I’m dead meat.

Oh, my poor aching body!  I’ve been working on my insane gardening project and it’s nearly killed me.  I started innocently enough the other day by jauntily walking down the path to the garden.  I picked up a shovel and placed the tip on the ground, then attempted to push it into the ground with my foot.  The shovel skewed this way and that, and the end went in about an inch.  I realized that I was trying to dig through dirt the consistency of cement.

The ‘dirt’ is actually sand filled with various sizes of rocks, some the size of my head.  Where the six dump trucks of so-called soil went that were delivered I have no idea.  It appears to have mated with the existing gravel, spawning a field of hell for the would-be gardener.  I can’t believe the early settlers had to work through this.

On Wednesday it took me about four hours, but I managed to remove all of the gravel from one of the beds.  I had sweat dripping off the end of my nose as I carted the wheelbarrows full of gravel to the side and dumped them.  Once the bed was emptied to a depth of about one foot, I had to go up and down, up and down the steep path to get the decent soil.  When I had the bed filled with that, I got out my bedding plants and started the fun part.  Oh man, when those tomatoes are ripe….

So now I have a greenhouse, and three beds filled with tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, cabbage, lettuce and cucumbers.  Three beds left to go, and then next year we can start on some landscaping.  Don Burnett suggested some dwarf trees, so I’ll enjoy looking into that.  For sure, I’m thinking an apricot tree would be wonderful to have.

One would imagine that physical labour would burn off an awful lot of calories.  And I suppose it would, if one didn’t have the appetite of a large draft horse.  Plus, doing that kind of work makes it all seem perfectly legitimate.  Yesterday I was lined up at the till at Lakeview Market, when lo and behold a box of cordial cherries caught my eye.  Usually only available at Christmas, yet here they were.  I took that as a sign, and last night easily ate the whole box.

So this morning’s agenda includes fitness, then some marketing, and as a reward, a very large lunch.  I’ve been forcing myself out to winery gift stores, and am waiting for a couple of them to get back to me.  The fact that some stores don’t even bother to reply irks the living daylights out of me, but what can I do?  I can only wait until I get discovered and my limited product is in wild demand.  I can feel that this moment is just around the corner.