The nice president of the local pro-choice society, of which I’m a member, asked if I’d take a turn at a Salvation Army kettle.  I said sure, and was given an envelope with signage, the secret word to receive the kettle, and a list of time slots with names in them.

Yesterday at 10:00 AM I arrived at the customer service desk of Extra Foods in Capri Mall and announced I was there to man the kettle.  I said the secret password, “turkey.”  The nice woman went into the back to get it, and then came out empty-handed.

She said, “That’s not the password.”  I opened the brown envelope and showed her the slip of paper with the word typed on it, and she pointed to the top of the sheet and said, “It says December 14th, not December 4th.”

I then showed her the other sheet, with the time slots and names filled in, and it was headed up December 4th.  She didn’t care, and said my password for the 4th was not correct, so away with me.  Of course I was thrilled at not having to do that for two hours.

When I came home I e mailed the president, who’s on holidays in San Diego, and she replied she was sure she’d booked it for the 4th.  Maybe, but not a soul was there when I arrived at 10:00, so obviously the 8:00 – 10:00 shift had been shooed away too.

I had a delivery to make to Sunshine Market, which I’d done on my way home from the debacle.  I then spent two hours packaging an order of 48 fruitcakes for Discover Wines.

As you know I sent a fruitcake to the food writer at the Kamloops News, and he went nuts, so there’ll be an article appearing any day complete with photo.  That’ll drive people into the Kamloops Discover Wines store, so the owner decided to be prepared and stock up.

I think I may have a total of 100 Decadents and maybe 50 Okanagan Harvests on hand, and for once, people will be learning a lesson.  When I say one small woman can only bake so much, please order early, next year they’ll know I’m not kidding.

I finally broke down and decided to try some on-line gift ordering.  At first it appeared to be another nightmare, such as when one tries to do a simple bank transaction on line.  However, after an hour or two, I seemed to get the hang of it.  I was finally able to order, and then wham! two days later the packaged arrived.  Delivery was free!

I then wondered why anyone would browse a store if you know exactly what you’re ordering.  For specifics like games, books and toys you can easily order on-line.  However, I find I still need to walk up and down aisles to gather inspiration for some people.

And then you’d never get the stuff I find at the thrift stores on-line anyway.  On Tuesday after my regular gig at the art gallery I stopped in at the Helping Hands Thrift Store.  I got a lot of adorable Christmas things, and the total was $7.23.  Hard to do that on-line as everything is 50% off at that great store on Tuesdays for those of us lucky enough to be over 55.

Orders are coming by phone and e mail, so it’s a busy time of year for the fruitcake monger.  I’ve also done some marketing, so hope something will come of it.  For instance, the other day our local CBC radio morning show hosts mentioned fruitcake.  Alia, the co-host said, “It looks so good, and then you try it and then you go, oh yeah, that’s why I don’t like it.”

I couldn’t let those words go unchallenged, so yesterday I drove a fruitcake and note down to them at CBC and said try this.  Then I mailed a fruitcake to a food writer at a Kamloops newspaper, as Discover Wines, my first customer here in Kelowna, expanded and they now have a store there, too.

Finally, I mailed a fruitcake to Jian Gomechi at CBC Radio and reminded him in last year’s panel on fruitcakes they did the usual fruitcake-trashing, and I asked him to sample mine and see if it’s even possible to disparage it.

In the midst of marketing, packaging, delivering and mailing, imagine my joy to open an envelope and find a bill from Impark for $62.00!  Apparently, on October 10th I was causing an “obstruction” in the Prospera Arena parking lot.

I recall being in a hurry to get to my last day of docent training at the art gallery, and as I parked I noticed I wasn’t within the lines.  However, as I’d paid for the ticket, was in a hurry, and because 95% of the spaces were empty and I was far from anyone else, I just left the car and ran.

Now I got a letter saying this is the final notice before being put over to collections.  I wrote them a nice letter saying please give me a break as this is ridiculous, and why put me over to collections when I had no clue this evil thing was in the works?

I look forward to their reply, as I’m certainly not mailing them $62.00 for being outside the parking lines by a few inches.  Remember Wiggins Adjustments who phoned me for three years to collect $25.00 on a parking fine in Penticton?  I have a feeling this is going to end badly for Impark.

That sort of thing is healthy as it raises adrenalin levels mightily and forges action.  The same thing happened when I heard our illustrious mayor and council approved a piece of land owned by the powerful Bennet family coming out of the Agricultural Land Reserve.  Same thing: huge spike in adrenalin.

Besides writing a letter to the editor, I made an appointment to meet with our MLA to discuss his government’s position on the Agricultural Land Commission.  Steve Thompson assured me they have no intention of messing with it, and I did that two fingers to my eyes then pointing them at him, De Niro style, and said, “I’ll be watching your voting record on that.”

Hence you can see the life of the fruitcake monger isn’t without its challenges.  Now that I started markegting, I’m doing that horrible second-guessing wondering if I made enough fruitcakes.  Either I’m crying because the sales are too low or too high, but that seems to be the way it is every year.

Today I remembered by blog was due, and it was a horrible shock to realize I’d completely forgotten about it.  I was thinking how in control I was of the week, and suddenly it hit me.  It must be due to all the memory required for daily posts on my Nuttier than a Fruitcake Facebook page.

Who would’ve thought social media could do anything for a business?  But since I started posting easy-to-make recipes people forward them to friends, and so I’ve had a large increase in people who are now exposed to my fruitcakes.  I’m receiving on-line orders daily.

And what would the business be without my dear, faithful, repeat customers?  I had my yearly order from a nice man in Halifax who’s 94 years old, and who’s been ordering for at least the past 8 years.  When he first ordered he wrote, “In all my years I’ve never tasted a fruitcake as good as yours.”  Needless to say, I love him.

There are so many nice customers I realize I can’t leave the business as I can’t say good bye to them.  And then there’s the weekly blog and monthly newsletter and now Facebook, so I get to keep my writing skills honed.  Without the fruitcakes, why would I write any of that?

I guess because this fall is my 10th season that my mind sometimes wanders into retirement territory.  But really, what would I do each fall if not bake until I’m exhausted?

Do you know five weeks from now the season’ll be totally over for me?  So I need to get a grip and keep going.  I plan on sending a fruitcake to Gian Gomechi at CBC Radio because last December he had a small panel on to discuss fruitcakes.  I thought I’d send him one and say, “Disparage this.”

Maxine Dehart’s going to write about my fruitcakes in her weekly column in the Capital News this week, so that’ll get a flurry of people racing to the stores.  From December 1 – 14  I’ll have fruitcakes in the display case at the Woman’s Place Gym so that’ll be good sales, too.

We were hoping Luke’s wife Jan might be able to be here on a visitor visa for Christmas, but it’s not to be.  Their application was denied, so now they have to do the permanent resident application and wait 12 – 14 months.  It’s so annoying as she’s coming no matter what obstacles the government throws before us.

 But Luke plans to be here, and of course Nicky lives here so that’s a given.  Margaret and Brendan are coming, as is my mom, so I’m already excited about it, though it’s a whole five weeks away.  I love Christmas, especially the baking.

Which is how all of this began.  I received a fruitcake as a gift from our accountant, asked for the recipe and made it for gifts.  People swooned and alleged if I ever made it for sale they’d buy it.  Challenge met.

So throwing obstacles in front of people with this type of attitude is complete folly in my mind, and the reason I’ve asked our MP for a meeting to explain immigration policy to me.

The season’s sales are well on their way, as I delivered 60 fruitcakes to Quality Greens, 48 to Discover Wines, 18 to Tin Horn Creek Winery and mailed 24 to Sea Cider in Victoria.  As it’s just mid-November, I expect this to continue right up until Christmas so I feel smug about the heavy baking I did in September.

Because of my profound laziness, I’ve jettisoned the Okanagan Fruit and Rum bars along with the chocolate bark.  I hate making anything small, so decided to stick with the original two fruitcakes and try to make each and every one of them a prize-winner.

Margaret’s helping me with my Nuttier than a Fruitcake page, and it’s a lot of fun.  I honest to God didn’t know what to do, and said to her what simple things can a Luddite possibly do?  She replied: Post one thing every day, and make sure you always include a photo.

Every day I dutifully post a recipe and sometimes the odd tip for something else, and I’ve increased my reach by a couple of hundred per cent.  Margaret suggested I might do a special Christmas cookie recipe exchange, and I’ve started that.  If only I could do those damned videos I’ve been talking about for a year or more.

My wonderful little pup got neutered on Wednesday, and at noon on Friday when the vet’s office assistant phoned to see how he was, I said,  “Not well.”  Louie was completely depressed from the experience and not himself at all.

I didn’t know what to do to cheer him up, so I went into Buckerfield’s to peruse the dog chews to see if I could find something he might like.  After some thought, I ended up with a bull’s penis, and for good measure I threw in a pig’s ear.

When I got home I placed both items on the floor, he sniffed the ear, and then sniffed the penis, and started chewing on it.  He kept at it for about four hours and I was worried he might be injuring his jaws from over-exercise.  It sure took his mind off his surgery.

Then this weekend Louie and I went to Osoyoos to visit mom and her poodle Schwarzie.  Louie had about 1/3 of the bull penis left, so I took it with us.  Once we got into the house Schwarzie smelled the penis and grabbed it, and wouldn’t let Louie near it again.

Even though she is a walking skeleton due to advanced diabetes, that little dog laid there and chewed on the penis for at least three hours, and I said to mom I’m scared all this chewing energy’s going to finish off the dog.  But she was fine.

One of the books I bought for $1 at the annual library book sale is by Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer.  He says chewing for dogs is like reading a good book.  So in both cases, the bull penis took the dogs’ minds off their troubles.

Perhaps one should always have a bull penis in the home for stress relief?  I sat beside the dog when he was chewing on it and at times the odd whiff I got made me feel pretty sure only a dog would covet them.  However you know you love your dog when you get to the till and hand over $12 for a damned penis.

When Jerralynn was here a couple of weeks ago she said she felt something on my dog’s throat and said it felt like a pimple.  When we tried to find it later we couldn’t, and thought it had fallen off.

Then on Saturday Nicky said the night before the dog had been downstairs while I was sleeping.  He said a friend of his noticed something on Louie’s throat too, and when they examined it they found it was a tick.  He said they got pliers and pulled out the tick, but the head broke off in the dog.

I went on-line and it didn’t seem to be an emergency that a tick’s head was in the dog.  But I e mailed a friend who owns dogs, and also told the women at the gym, and oh no, I had to go straight to the vet’s with the dog because “ticks carry viruses.”

I understand that, because a friend of mine caught Lyme disease from one, but as the tick was living in the dog for at least two weeks and he had no symptoms, I didn’t think this particular tick was a problem.  Sure enough, the vet said if Louie was going to get sick, he would’ve done so long ago.

So it was as I thought, absolutely nothing, yet out of fear something terrible might happen down the road, I had gone.  God forbid people could say, “if only she’d dealt with that tick head imbedded in the dog none of this would’ve happened.”

I know I love to go on about things likes this, but again last week I had the best time at Value Village.  I was looking for comfortable navy shoes, and there was a pair of Rockport loafers in mint condition for $10 in the perfect colour.  I looked heavenward and thanked my gramma for her help.

But that wasn’t all, because in the housewares section I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw a turkey-themed tray exactly like the one my mother-in-law had and which was hauled out every Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It’s in excellent shape, and as five bucks.

I shouldn’t be hanging around thrift stores at all, because fruitcake orders have already come in.  The nice people at Discover Wines have ordered and they’ve expanded into a second store in Kamloops so want twice a many.

As you may or may not have noticed, I’m posting recipes and other tips on my Nuttier than a Fruitcake Facebook page daily, so if you’re reading this, but aren’t my friend on that site, please ask for an invitation.

With seven weeks left, I know I can do it, which as I’ve always said, is the beauty of having a seasonal business.  It’s focused and then over before you know it.  Hopefully kind of like the dog will find his neutering appointment this Wednesday.

Quite a while ago my friend Jerralynn, who lives in Osoyoos, asked if she and her friend Carol could stay here the night before they flew to Cancun.  She said they had an ‘early flight’ out of Kelowna, and I gave it no further thought and said of course they could stay here.

It was great because I then bought a single bed for this office, and so now I’ve made an emergency overflow guest room.  Plus the cats are sure I got it for them, and they love it.  I was super happy to shop for sheets, blankets and a bedspread, and found the cutest quilt with matching shams at a thrift store for $6.00.

It’d been foggy for days prior to Jerralynn and Carol’s planned departure, but as they seemed unconcerned, I didn’t worry about it.  They arrived for dinner on Tuesday, and as I’d found out with shock and horror I was getting up at 4:30 AM to drive them to the airport, I hopped into bed by 9:00 PM.  Good night.

They sat up consuming the rest of the wine, and I have no idea when they finally got to bed.  At 4:30 I heard them getting ready so I got up, and shortly afterward we were on the road to the airport.  I dropped them at 5:00 and returned home and said to the dog we should just lie down for a while and rest.

At 6:00 AM, as I had just drifted off to sleep, the phone rang and it was Jerralynn saying the flight was cancelled due to fog, so I drove back out and picked them up.  They then spent the next three hours wrangling with their travel agent, and found a flight out of Spokane, a good five-hour drive south, so they left.

I’m just glad I’m not travelling anywhere right now as I have enough to do around here.  Today I used a tiny part of the gift certificate Liz gave me for Art Knapps, and bought 25 each of early, mid and late blooming tulips.  I want to plant those this afternoon because it’s gorgeous and sunny out.

I also have to do that horrible yearly job of digging out the dahlia bulbs, rinsing them off, packing them in peat moss and storing them for the winter.  Each spring I feel so hopeful when I look into the box, and every year the majority have shrivelled into a horrible dead mess.  Yet I continue to try, which is the fascinating part.

I did my first volunteering gig at the art gallery and it was kind of fun.  I’m assisting for now, and so it’s not too bad.  I liked feeling useful and the way the lead docent just assigned me to things so I can learn the routine.  She said to the kids, “Now when I finish talking Moni’s going to take five of you at a time to hang your things in the cloak room.”

That’s when all Hell broke loose as I don’t know how to coral five kids at a time without mayhem occurring.  Once they’d left I said to the lead docent, you know as a teacher of the deaf I had maybe five students, tops, but at times I’d be assigned a home room of regular grade eights or something equally God awful.

There was no way I could control 30 kids, and so I find it kind of interesting my first foray into volunteering should involve commanding large groups of school-age kids.  I guess I love facing my fears or something.

It’s interesting how when one thing breaks it causes a chain reaction.  In the past week my irrigation pipes for the automatic sprinkers, my car’s battery and then my printer all decided it was time for a bit of a shake-up on Hall Road.

I caused the car battery to fail because the other week I had to get Kathy and drive her to the gym because her car wouldn’t start.  This is her new Mercedes SUV.  I told her when she phoned the dealer to tell him her friend has a 1998 Honda Civic that starts all the time. 

Then the other day I got dressed, put on makeup and jumped into my car, and nothing.  I was momentarily stunned because if you know Hondas, you know they start no matter what.  I have BCAA so I called them and a nice man came and started the car for me.  He said I likely have an old battery which makes sense as I bought the car in 2009 and it was probably there a year or two prior.

I raced to Canadian Tire and Nicky put in a new battery for me, so that was a big saving.  He’s very handy around Hondas as yesterday he put either new brakes or brake pads, God only knows, on the front for me.  I have my own private mechanic.

A landscape company  came to blow out my pipes for the winter, and they’ve never been here before, so I walked out and showed the woman where the water box is.  I was a bit nervous because I had to kind of explain to her how I think companies did it in the past, because I really haven’t ever watched them do it.

Because of that I was completely unsurprised when half an hour later there was a knock at the door and the woman was standing there holding a piece of broken pipe.  She said, “it was glued…” and I said, “yes my son and his friend glued it in the spring.  Why were you turning that part, anyway?”

She drove off and returned in the afternoon with her husband.  They worked together for about half an hour and then knock, knock, knock, now he was at the door with a different broken piece.  He said they’d return to fix the system.

Several days later he returned and today it’s supposed to be ready to be blown out for the winter.  I can’t wait.

Finally, the printer stopped working, and as all of us who are self-employed know, not  being able to mail an invoice means no cheques appear in the mail.  It was a nerve-wracking few days, but that’s working again, too.

In the midst of it all my low back went on me and it was done in the stupidest way possible.  Mango is such a stand-offish cat, but he decided to sit in my chair, so I was carefully perched near the front so as not to bother him.  To be extra nice, I carefully reached behind me to try to pet him, and whammo!

It’s really hard to believe as in the gym we don’t just sit and pet cats,  yet my back never goes out as we do jumping jacks, burpees and mountain climbers.  Weird, eh?

Louie and I drove to Osoyoos on Saturday in time for lunch with mom, Freddie and Wendy.  I’d spent the previous afternoon cooking and baking in preparation for the weekend.  I made meatballs and tomato sauce, candied almond and chocolate chunk cookies and a pumpkin loaf. 

On Saturday morning I quickly made the dough for buns and let it rise in the sun on the back seat as we drove.  I could tell the bowl was in the sun whenever a waft of yeast would hit my nose.  Initially I’d tried to turn my head every once in a while to see what was happening with the bowl, but as I knew that would likely lead to an accident, just using my nose was better.

My brother and sister in law’s girls, husbands and kids came on Saturday afternoon and the Schillerpalooza began in earnest.  We basically spent all weekend together either preparing or cleaning up after food, visiting and drinking quite a lot of wine and other spirits.

Nicky drove down and back for the day on Sunday for the turkey dinner, and so it was a great family event.  Luke’s stuck out at the rigs, but what can one do when the work’s there?

And speaking of ‘work’, last week’s third lesson of how to be a docent at the art gallery involved being toured around the new exhibit by the volunteer coordinator.  First we saw a video on what ‘art’ is, what it’s intended to do, and so on.  Then she showed us a collage and asked us questions about it to show us how she would do it with school kids.

She then took us into the main gallery which houses the exhibit we’ll be touring with school classes for the next three months.  As we walked in, we could see a large pile of sand with large shards of glass stuck into it.

There’s a screen behind that showing a continuous loop of the artist talking about time travel and worm holes.  In another area there are drawings of galaxies, some sculptures with Lego-like buildings on them, and large black and white etchings of apocalyptic-looking scenes.

When we returned to the classroom the coordinator turned to us and asked with excitement how we liked the exhibit.  The group silently sat there, and someone volunteered, “I don’t like it.”

A general discussion ensued, and then she asked me what I thought of the exhibit.  I had taken a course called the history of art at UBC years ago, and have been to enough art shows and Woody Allen movies to know what to do at this point.  I went on about the optimistic feeling I had from the galaxies amd worm holes and thought the whole exhibit denoted hope.

Haven’t I said many times before the most valuable class I ever took was drama while in high school?  Certainly it came in handy at that point.  Because to me, that’s not really what I like either, but whatever.

And there it is in microcosm.  Just like extended family, with art some of it’s hard to understand, and some is easy.

My letter to the editor appeared in the October 1st edition of the Capital News.  I was very pleased and surprised that evening to get a call from a nice old gentleman named Mike Durban.  He said he was calling to say he agreed with everything I said in my letter about the loss of farm land.

Mike said he’s been here so long he remembers when Orchard Park Mall was all orchards.  He asked where I lived, and I said Hall Road, and he said he remembered when this area was all orchards, too.

I told him I lived in the old O’Reilly house so I know all about the orchard that was here.  Mike said, “Oh my God!  I used to go to great parties at that house.”  As it turns out, he was good friends with Jack O’Reilly and he said he also played on the Packers hockey team.

So I was really glad I’d written the letter, as sometimes it’s really easy to say oh to hell with it, what’s the point, especially in this case when it’s the Bennett family that owns the land in question.  I wonder whose side the Premier would be on in a dispute?

But never mind, I’m still going to follow up with an appointment with our local MLA to discuss my dismay and also a letter to the ALR commission as a citizen.  Why designate land for agriculture if people learn they can hold empty lots and then apply and eventually the land will be released?

Okay, and speaking of rants, when I attended lesson 1 of docent training at the art gallery on Thursday, the volunteer coordinator gave a long speech about funding for the arts.  When she stopped she said to us, “Well that’s the end of my um….” and I said, “rant?” and the group laughed so they think I’m funny which is good.

You know how weird and awkward it is to suddenly have a brand new group of strangers with which to bond.  I said to my mom we’re a motley crew of retired and semi retired people, five women and one lone man, who all want to become tour guides for school kids.  Why, I wonder.

I’m really not sure why I want to do that, but as I say to people, when you work from home you have to find artificial ways to force yourself out.  I love the Woman’s Place gym for my socializing, but other than that and Superstore, it’s pretty well the cats, Wrecks and Mango, and the dog Louie and me, playing tiddly winks at home.

I don’t know if this marketing idea will work, but I sent an e mail to Zoomer magazine to see if they have someone who reviews food who might like to sample my wares and write about them if deemed worthy.

I baked 55 fruitcakes today, so am slowly amassing the year’s required inventory.  Now that I see I’m on top of that, I want to do some marketing so that I can unload all of this product, too.  Amazing, but I’ve already had a few inquiries for direct sales so that’s all very good.

This afternoon I’m making a couple of lovely pumpkin loaves for the Schillerpalooza planned in Osoyoos this Thanksgiving.  Good thing I love to bake!

It’s horrible how I dread baking, then when I start, I think it’s easy and no problem.  I dread walking the dog, then once we’re outside, I enjoy it.  I just don’t understand this aversion to things I know I’m going to be doing anyway.

In any case, I’ve managed to bake around 400 fruitcakes this month, so feel good about that.  This gives me a good start on the season, so for once I won’t be crying while I’m simultaneously baking, packaging and mailing.

On Friday I had a lovely lunch out with my friend Petra.  We met at Earl’s and sat at the window where we had a view of the launch party for the new downtown pier.  Kelowna’s becoming very chi chi, don’t you know.  I rarely go downtown, so whenever I do I’m as surprised as any tourist.

But this is about to change, as I’ve been e mailed the training dates for becoming a volunteer tour guide at the art gallery.  I’ll have to attend on October 3, 8, and 10 from 1:00-4:00 and on October 18 from 10:00 – 1:45!  It had better be very hard to learn how to say to a grade one class, “Now why do you think the artist made the sun blue when we know the sun isn’t blue?”

For fun I’ve written another letter to the editor and hopefully it’ll be in the local Capital News in the next few days.  As usual, people with more money than conscience are asking for land to be removed from the agricultural land reserve.  I love writing letters like that, as it’s a good opportunity to practice slicing with a pen rathen than a sword.

Another bit of good news is that Luke’s capitulated and has hired a nice immigration consultant to help him do the paperwork to get Jan into Canada.  Now at least we have some hope it’ll happen in our lifetimes.

Luke wanted to do it himself, and when we printed the guide on how to fill out the forms, and the guide was over an inch thick, I told him I thought this might be a tricky process.  He said no, we’d work through it and use the guide, step by step.

Question number one, under which class are you applying, stumped us.  We read the definitions and mulled it over, and I said, “I think we need a consultant.”  Luke insisted he’d do it himself.  He filled out the application this spring, mailed it in, and it was just returned incomplete.

Oh well, better late than never and so hopefully Jan’ll be here soon.  But soon means probably 12 – 14 months, according to the consultant.

In the meantime Nicky continues to rent the basement, and basically keeps to himself down there.  He’s good in that he’ll mow the lawn or blow the pine needles off the driveway when required.  I suppose it won’t be too long and we’ll need the inevitable snow removal from the driveway.

And so I keep going, because cooler weather means the beginning of the long slide into Christmas, which is my goal.  That’s just 12 short weeks away, so my God, if I can’t keep going until then I should be shot.