You know my penchant for breaking into song at any given moment, and often I sing songs from my youth.  In grade three, at Osoyoos Elementary Junior Secondary School, I remember happy music classes in which all 30 of us would sing.  Mrs. Kretz would lead us along in a merry song, such as Little Brown Jug.  You know the one:

“My wife and I live all alone in a little log hut we call our own.

She loves gin, and I love rum, I tell you what we’ve lots of fun

Ha ha ha, you and me, little brown jug don’t I love thee?

Ha ha ha, you and me, little brown jug don’t I love thee!”

The beloved and feared principal, Mr. McLeod would walk by, beaming at the sound of our eight-year-old voices belting out someone’s joy for booze.  It could now become a scene out of a Simpson’s episode, but songs like that were totally normal in the 60’s.  I miss the heady and wonderful days before politcal correctness killed all of our fun!

And speaking of having fun killed, a couple of days ago I was racing around the neighbourhood like a crazed cow.  We spent thousands of dollars to have a fence installed so that the dogs would be safe.  However, for some reason, Nicky isn’t able to close the gate behind himself whenever he leaves.  So, the other day I was doing something when it hit me: the tiny dog hadn’t been around in ages.

 Arnie, being 13 years old, blind and deaf, and partially senile, doesn’t leave the yard.  However, whenever they get the chance, Mojo and Ricky like to run down to Hall Road, where they like to play chicken with trucks and other large vehicles.  I raced out whistling and calling, and seeing the gate open, feared the worst.

I then ran down to Hall Road, whistling and calling, looking into the ditch for the corpse.  Nothing!  Our neighbour was outside, and I said to him that our tiny dog was missing.  He suspected that the dog was probably in the yard, avoiding me.  I went back home, and finally the stupid dog came when I called.  By this time, I had spent 20 minutes searching for the animal, which I now wanted to beat.

But then I realized that the being deserving the beating was Nicky, who won’t close the gate.  I suppose I should be thankful, as running up and down our driveway with high adrenalin levels is probably a good way to lose a bit of weight.

And now Easter looms, with its reams of chocolate.  I’ve spent the past week trying hard not to eat nasty foods, so not sure what will happen, though I’m suspecting it won’t be good.  I’m something like the guy from the Little Brown Jug song, though subsitute white wine and chocolate for the rum and it’s about right.  Now to purchase the proper little jug and we’re all set!

The consultation for the lower yard was both exhilarating and frightening.  By the time it’s as I envision it, I will be very poor, weathered and old.  However, I’m undaunted,  so I’m pumped for it all to begin, regardless of how calloused I will end up.  That’s what the rasp for my feet is for, isn’t it?  If I want to make Denis’ forehead move back an inch I sit on the couch and start working on my heels.  He beats it out of there pretty quickly.

I finally weighed myself the other day and so am putting it out there publicly that I am now officially on a diet.  I just can’t take it anymore, as I’ve noticed that the Michelin Man and I have quite a lot of rings in common.  The most offensive of them being right under my rib cage, as every top I wear skims this area and makes it even more noticeable.  I could have lived with the big butt and thighs, but this stomach fat is just too hard to conceal any longer.  So, off it will have to come!

Discontinuing the food experiments is Step #1, and this is easy to do as I have decided against trying to introduce a third product.  You may recall I was mulling over the idea of various chocolate pates, but after careful self-examination, have rejected it.  For one, as the company’s sole purpose is to convert fruitcake haters into fruitcake lovers, to veer off into another product seems like folly.  For another, I am the laziest human on earth, and cannot even bake fruitcakes, so why would I think I would actually do something more?

If I did want to experiment, which I don’t, then I would take mom’s boyfriend Gerry’s advice and do more research around the mini fruitcakes I made for Nokia Canada.  Of all the people who give me advice, Gerry actually knows what he’s talking about, having been a tycoon for the majority of his 93 remarkable years.  Actually, he just turned 93 and I was at his birthday party in Osoyoos.

Luke is now driving Denis’ old flatbed truck and has parked his little Neon here as he said he’s going to replace the motor.  So, in the lower yard we have a defunct green van, the Neon (which will soon be put up on blocks and beneath a tarp) and Denis’ work vehicle.  Beside this is a giant pile of yard waste.  This is where I’m going to have a beautiful arbour, covered in pink roses.  There is serious incongruity in our lives.

Another example of this incongruity is the other day I said to Denis how sad it is now that the place is empty of louts, due to Nicky having found his first girlfriend.  Denis said, “It’s not sad to no longer have to deal with smashed rakes, lost tools, damaged furniture, vomit, broken dishes and loud music.”  Oh, sure, when you put it that way, it’s not sad.

Local gardening guru, Don Burnett, is scheduled to come next week to help me with my major garden project.  So, in preparation, I decided I’d better get out in the yard and try to spruce it up a bit.  I was thinking that if he arrives and the yard is a hell hole, he will discourage me as he’ll think if I can’t even keep the yard clean, then how can I do a whole vegetable garden?

Yesterday, I took five wheelbarrows full of pine needles out of the lower yard, which is the designated new vegetable garden area.  However, that is a drop in the bucket, as I can see each pine tree has about 25 wheelbarrows of pine needles underneath it.  Doing this also helped me see that the project is likely doomed without some kind of decent path.  Right now one has to follow the dogs’ trail up the hill, pushing a laden wheelbarrow over bunch grass and uneven ground.

Oh well.  Once a few thousand dollars have been spent on earth-moving equipment, I’m sure all will be well.  In the meantime, I bought bags of dahlia bulbs at Costco.  God knows one can’t have just vegetables in the lower yard as that would be much too drab.  What a waste of good soil and water as well!  This way I’ll have vegetables decorated by colourful blooms.  So much better.

I’ve had the headiest week for the fruitcake business.  I contacted some more store managers to get feedback on how my product had done.  The nice man at Pepper’s Foods in Victoria, the woman at Cookbook Cooks in Calgary, and the manager of the Osoyoos Buy-Low all reported good sales and said they were certainly going to be ordering again.  I now have a nice tidy little base of stores, and if I can grow the on-line sales, I will be all set.

Miraculously, I’ve found that I’m able to force myself to do preparatory work for the baking.  I’ve been chopping chocolate and putting it into baggies, cutting up pears and apples, cutting parchment paper for the bottom of the tins, and ordering labels and bags.  When I see any of my ingredients on sale I buy them, and I’ll continue this throughout the year.  Despite all of this, however, I remain unable to force myself to bake.

This list of things I refuse to do grows large – baking, cleaning, writing my novel.  The things I continue to do maniacally remain the same – shopping, going to the gym, gardening.  If only one could make money from the latter.  Who knows, maybe the grand gardening project will flourish into something and I’ll become the Arugula Queen.

The dogs and I are completely exhausted from five hours of gardening.  As Luke was here I had him help me haul even more wheelbarrows full of pine needles up from the lower yard.  I then dug around in some of my beds, and generally worked until my back gave out entirely.  Quite a lot of fun, when you think of Ontario and Quebec, which are currently receiving 30 to 50 cm of snow!

It’s Leap Day, and according to Shelagh Rogers of CBC’s Sounds like Canada, the day has been proclaimed as a tribute to frogs.  Apparently they’re disappearing daily, and I’m not surprised, given the situation right on my doorstep.  As I’ve mentioned earlier, a developer has bought the land beside us, and it’s being subdivided into 18 lots.  Their surveyor told me proudly that they’re going to fill in all those pesky mosquito-filled ponds while they’re at it!  I always find it so funny that we are horrified at the practices in other parts of the world, meanwhile the same thing is happening daily right here in Canada.

While awaiting the comments from Harlequin’s Critique Service, I decided I’d better get started on the second novel.  This one is conveniently set in the steamy, tropical heat of Nicaragua.  I was thinking about my desire to write cheap romance novels, and wondering why, when I remembered my addiction to soap operas.  Actually, it was just one, All My Children, which had me in its grip.  I started watching it when I was 16 and continued to watch it as often as possible for the next 20 years.

My gramma started it all by being hooked on a daytime soap, The Edge of Night.  She was also crazy for the primetime soaps Dallas and Dynasty.  So, I guess I came by my soap opera addiction honestly.  I remember living in Prince George where my friend Bev also liked a soap, and it was on at the same time as mine.  As we were often at each other’s places for lunch, we would watch one, and then switch to the other person’s during a commercial.  Somehow, perhaps due to the glacial pace of the stories, it worked.

Before the advent of the video recorder, I oftentimes would miss the show, and this would be torture.  I remember one day my then boyfriend was at home when the show started, but I was at a job, and too far away to drive home for lunch.  I had him turn the TV on super loud and hang the phone in front of the set.  I then spent an hour on the phone, listening to my show!  It had to be on really loud, so that I could hear it, so my boyfriend left the apartment.  The TV was then just left on until I arrived home.  I used to wonder why the neighbours sometimes looked at me with malice, and I think I now know why.

So as I use my fond memories of the foibles of the soap’s characters, I will plod through Novel #2.  Or I suppose I could use the soap opera spinning itself out before me in real life.  Nicky has a girlfriend!  Remember how the basement was filled with young males 24/7?  Now it is empty and quiet down there, as Nicky is over at his girlfriend’s apartment and the old friends have been cast aside as quickly as one throws out an old black and white TV set.

Last night Denis was away for work and Nicky was at The Girlfriend’s.  I was alone in my own home, and the giddiness I felt at that moment of realization was heady.  Of course, in order to celebrate properly, I immediately wolfed down a half a pound of chocolate!

I only watch Oprah once or twice a year, but every time I do, something happens.  A few years ago I happened to tune in when Tom Cruise jumped on Oprah’s couch.  Yesterday she talked about Eckhart Tolle’s new book, A New Earth, and said she has an on-line study group about it.  Of course I adored his first book, the Power of Now, so have signed up.

Soon I will be able to levitate – won’t everybody just be so jealous?  In the meantime, however, I have been reduced to keeping a food journal!  I decided that maybe by writing down all of the food that I shovel into my mouth, I might be able to shock myself into reality.  So far, it seems to do nothing other than amaze me.

I’ve taken the first step to The Great Gardening Project, and have left a message for local gardening guru, Don Burnett.  I’m hoping he’ll be intrigued by the idea of turning a fairly significantly sized, largely urbanized area into an organic vegetable farm.  Of course, I’m wild with excitement over the first inquiry by one of the neighbours who border on this piece of our property.

Yesterday as I was driving along I thought, “I need to get a beehive!”  I’d just driven past a stack of them, and realized that to be totally self-sufficient I will need to get my own bees.  There’ll be a greenhouse in the middle, and wouldn’t a lovely climbing rose be gorgeous on some sort of an arbour?  And then all will be lovingly pollinated by my own dear bees!

The sub-title of A New Earth is “Awakening to your Life’s Purpose.”  I think I finally have figured out my life’s purpose (for today, anyway).  It appears to involve growing things, baking fruitcakes and writing really bad fiction.  I finally submitted my first romance novel to Harlequin’s Critique Service, so will find out in a few weeks whether or not I have any potential.

Aside from frittering away my time with seeking enlightenment, I followed up with a new customer.  I e mailed the nice manager of Buy-Low Foods in Westbank to see how my product had done.  He e mailed back that they had sold out one week prior to Christmas, and that they were certainly going to purchase my fruitcakes again.  I felt so happy knowing that!

Wouldn’t you then think that a person who knows they will be selling four or five thousand fruitcakes in November and December would begin baking them?  Maybe I should just break myself in slowly, and just buy some of the ingredients.  That way, if the mood hits, I’ll instantly be ready to bake.  However instead, I am reading yet another great book, Tender at the Bone by Ruth Reichel and having three-hour lunches with friends.  Tsk!

It’s strange how I had to go all the way from Kelowna to San Juan del Sur to find a copy of the Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle.  I had never heard of him, but picked the book up from the coffee table and began to read it as I liked the topic.  He writes about the importance of remaining in the present moment, and I must say with practice I’m able to do it for longer and longer periods of time.  Try it, and you’ll see how difficult it is.

One small disappointment about San Juan del Sur was the lack of shopping opportunities.  I managed to buy two lovely pieces of pottery and a bit of cheap jewellery, but would’ve bought so much more.  People with whom I spoke said Nicaragua reminded them of what Costa Rica was like 15 years ago.  In other words, tourism is a very new concept, but all of that is going to change.

The minimum wage in Nicaragua is $35.00 per week.  The people live in open, tin-roofed shacks, with dirt floors.  However, in the town of San Juan, you can already see the odd house looking very decent.  I took a photo of one pained a beautiful pastel pink, and festooned with decorative iron work.  In a few years the $25.00 per week hotels that dot the beach will be gone, replaced by Marriott’s and Hilton’s.

At the resort we slept upstairs in the loft of mom and Gerry’s rented villa.  The ceiling is lined with bamboo, and a fan whirls 24/7.  Luke called it The Flintstone House because they build everything with stone there.  We saw two people slip and fall right down at the lower restaurant due to the slipperiness of the stairs.  It makes you walk gingerly in the middle of the night.

I had taken a suitcase full of school supplies, as the resort raises money for a foundation.  One morning we were driven out to a pre-school where we handed over the stuff.  I said that I thought this would do them for a year, to which the instructor said it would last them for three years!  We are so wasteful.

The foundation also pays for a vet and a clinic which helps both wild and domestic animals.  As a result, there are several spayed cats which live at the resort.  Gerry hates cats because he’s allergic to them, so whenever one came near he would throw water on it!  One evening at dinner, when one of the cats came close to the table, he took the ice out of his glass with his fork and threw it onto the cat, which bolted.

I said, “That is the most reprehensible behaviour I have ever seen toward a cat!” to which Gerry replied, “And imagine what the cat is saying.”  He is so funny.  Imagine Woody Allan’s dad, and that’s Gerry.

I was a teacher of the deaf for ten years, then spent 15 years as the co-owner of a company doing government contracting.  And now, as fruitcake monger and eccentric, I continue to live a humble existence.  So when mom and Gerry asked if I wanted to stay with them in their villa at the chi chi resort called Piedras y Olas (Pelican Eyes) in Nicaragua, I said, “hell ya!”

Fortunately for me, Luke said he wanted to come, and it was very easy traveling with him.  It was also fabulous for my mother, his grandmother, to spend that much time with him.  The trip was as arduous as one can expect when crossing through two countries.  We landed at Managua airport at 9:00 PM and were surprised to have to pay $5.00 to enter the country.  The muggy, tropical air hit us, and we were glad to be in an air conditioned hotel!

In the morning a pre-arranged driver came to pick us up, and he drove us on the pot hole-ridden road to San Juan del Sur, two and a half hours away.  It’s a small town, right on the Pacific Ocean.  We were driven to the top of the resort, as that’s where the Casa Madrono is, the place mom and Gerry are renting for two months.

From their deck, you can see wide, glossy-leaved tropical plants just below, and a sweeping view over them down onto the boats on the ocean.  Beside their villa is the lap pool with that gorgeous infinity edge.  You swim to the end and look over the entire ocean.  One of the two restaurants is located right there, too, so we never had to walk far for a swim or a meal!

We often walked into the town around 11:00 AM, at which time only the insane would do such a thing.  It is stinking, ungodly hot there, but as it’s only 11 degrees from the equator, one should expect it.  One of the employees at the resort said that many of the Nica (their name for themselves) are sick at this time of year with head colds and coughs.  He said the constant wind, which is so nice, will stop soon, “And then it will get hot.”  That should be interesting.

We planned our days around our meals.  Breakfast was mostly ordered in and delivered from the nearby restaurant.  I ate tropical fruit every single day.  Lunch was often eaten in the lower restaurant of the resort.  One day Luke and I had absolutely delicious tuna wraps.  One evening the cook grilled a special lobster dinner just for us.

The bulk of the dinners were eaten out in the local restaurants.  Sometimes we sat under a thatched roof, watching the pounding surf, and wolfing down giant shrimp.  At other times we ate in the town, and had sumptuous meals of either seafood or chicken.  All fruits, vegetables and meat are locally grown, so it was all gorgeously fresh.

One can easily become accustomed to phoning for a driver, but all too soon, reality impinges and it’s time to pack your bag and go home.  For once in my life I have gotten a tan, so am feeling particularly smug.  If I develop melanoma in ten years, please do not, for the love of God, remind me of this incident.

Isn’t it strange how fate can conspire to remove money from you when you least expect it?  I knew I was going to be out a few hundred dollars, as I told Luke I was taking him shopping for shoes and clothes.  His shoes were old runners that he removed in a drunken stupor from someone’s house last September, and has been wearing ever since.  One of the shoes has no laces whatsoever.

We went to Winner’s, and he got a coat, some shorts and T shirts.  When we couldn’t find shoes there we decided to meet at the mall.  When we got there, Luke had parked in the wrong area, so I rolled down the passenger window and he approached the van.  Unfortunately, due to Arnie’s lack of vision, and with is duty-bound attitude regarding me and the vehicle, Luke sustained a nasty bite on his finger.

At home we were chuckling about Arnie and his ability to bite even at his advanced age.  Then yesterday morning, while the dogs were enjoying their usual pigs ear eating routine, a dog fight broke out. Over the years, we have had the odd fight, always over food, and always instigated by Mojo.  I didn’t see the beginning of the fight, but it was loud and vicious, and I slapped Mojo off Arnie.

Later I noticed blood on the floor, and we thought one of the dogs had been bitten on the foot.  However, when I examined Mojo, I could see that her eye was cut and bleeding.  I went to fitness, and when I returned, I knew something was wrong as only Ricky greeted me at the door.  I’ve become used to Arnie not greeting me due to his advanced age, but Mojo and Ricky always do.

I approached the bed, and saw that Mojo’s eye was now the size of a kumquat.  I sighed in resignation, and dialed the vet.  Off we went.  Suffice it to say, by the time I returned to get her four hours later, I was relieved of nearly $400.  Good old Arnie!

The reason for the clothes purchase for Luke was largely selfish.  He and I are off to Nicaragua for ten days, and I told him there was no way I was going to sit with him on a plane looking like that!  I told him we would surely be searched as a result of his ratty attire.  As I mentioned earlier, mom and Gerry are already there, and we will stay with them at their chi chi resort.  Check it out at www.piedrasyolas.com.

But don’t cry for Denis, as he was offered the trip, but didn’t want to go!  I was initially a bit miffed, but now I’m glad as he can help Nicky with the dogs and cats.  God knows it’s a costly situation, if nothing else.  Plus, there is the general house monitoring that needs to be done, due to the vast amounts of friends Nicky likes to invite over if we’re not here.  As I’ve just been bilked for clothes and vet fees, the last thing I want is home renovation costs due to partying.

I will return on February 8th and will report back on the wilds of Nicaragua.

Last night I’d made quiche, and Luke was over.  I said to Luke and Nicky that instead of saying “Peace!” when they hang up the phone, they should say, “Quiche!” in the same tone of voice.  They both liked the idea, and Luke said he was going to try it.  I said to them that we might be able to start a new trend.

As spring is presumably just around the corner, I’m becoming obsessed about my garden project in the lower yard.  I told the family that as the world runs out of area to grow food, they’re going to be thanking me one of these days.  In fact, I said that chickens would be a natural addition to the project, and maybe a goat or a cow.

In the meantime, however, I fill my days with variations of chocolate pate.  Although nothing may come of it, I decided that it would be of interest to explore alternate products for the shoulder season.  Perhaps something like ‘chocolate and Okanagan apricot pate’ might work.  I’m also experimenting with a white chocolate pate, and maybe this would be divine with dried pears or peaches.

What does one do with so many experiments?  One eats them, then feels truly worried about one’s future health.  Last week at the gym the poor instructor, who weighs less than 100 pounds, had to help me get onto the ball.  Her fingers sank into the fat on my back, and she struggled with the unwieldy mass of flesh before her.  She really must wonder why I bother to attend at all.

And speaking of bad diets, the other day I came upon Nicky eating a large piece of raisin pie, accompanied by a glass of creamo.  The cats eat Temptations as though they are regular daily dry fare, and the dogs are much more like stuffed sausages than weiner dogs.  I’m not sure, but there may be something in the air at our place.

It’s funny, though, how as soon as I doubt myself vis a vis the fruitcakes, and contemplate a new product, I get nothing but fab feedback on the fruitcakes!  Alison told me that her husband ate an entire Totally Decadent in one evening.  Someone from Oliver phoned to say she’d scoured the Valley for fruitcakes after having had one at Christmas.  I’ve had several e mails from people who ordered on-line saying the fruitcakes were delicious, and promising to order again next year.

To keep my nerves under control as I steer Nuttier on its fateful course to wherever it’s going, I shop.  I got the most darling set of tinted yellow glass dessert plates the other day at my favourite giant garage sale, Value Village.  Then, feeling adventuresome, I hit Winner’s and bought half a dozen pairs of underwear.  Placated, I was able to speak the family mantra with conviction: “Quiche!”

That crazy feeling of “My God, I love my life!” continues.  I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be able to be home so early in my life.  I was sure I would be yoked to a desk somewhere downtown until I was at least 60 years old.  However, when one seriously puts their mind into manifesting their own destiny, well, look out.

Why then, does imagining oneself without a huge gut not work?  Here I sit; the proud owner of a stomach that could choke a small child.  I’ve been mulling over whether or not to even bother with New Year’s Resolutions, and finally decided that I really should try to do something about this blubber field.  The problem of course, is that to shed weight one must eschew things such as butter, creamo and chocolate.  Not good.

My friend Sharon read my Tarot cards for me for the coming year.  Everything is looking fabulous for Nuttier than a Fruitcake.  I just have to be open to the many teachers who will come into my life this year, as they are disguised, and hence not readily identifiable as bone fide ‘teachers.’

Mom’s poodle Schwartzie was here for a few days, as they are off to a chi chi resort in Nicaragua for two months.  Fortunately, the woman who takes care of mom’s house in her absence adores Schwartzie, and as she was away until now, we only had the dog for five days.  The dog is so used to being with octo and nonagenarians that she intensely dislikes tumult.  With three dogs and two cats, there is almost always some sort of a skirmish, which she hates.

Speaking of amusing skirmishes, one thing the dogs adore doing is barking like maniacs at any dog they see.  So, they especially love outings, as the possibilities are good for a bark-out.  If I can, I try to park beside a vehicle containing a dog, as then they can spend the time that I’m shopping jumping, barking and biting the windows.  Sometimes there’s quite a fug in the vehicle when I return.

The other day I parked beside a woman with a large fur collar, and they were having a fit over that!  It’s so funny, because Arnie is now blind, deaf and partially senile, but he is the leader of the pack due to seniority.  He thought the collar was a dog, and even though the miniatures could certainly see that it wasn’t, they knew Arnie was sounding the alarm, and so they just barked as furiously as they possibly could to help him.

Here is an example of why I find life so sweet: Ralph Lauren ankle boots.  Yes, I found a pair at consignment, and they are so fabulous I take them out of the closet every few hours and hold them.  I also bought the most adorable Holt Renfrew black velvet top – to die for!  I do think 2008 is going to be a fabulous, fabulous year!