Luke e mailed me that he’s having a great time in Thailand.  He said they just celebrated the festivals of Songkran and Tamboon.  These sound like loud, raucous Buddhist celebrations, hence tremendous fun.

He said he loves clowning around in the tiny village with his new family, and describes it so well I can see it clearly in my mind’s eye.  I thank God I had the opportunity to see it last November, otherwise it’d be impossible to imagine.

Luke said he was sitting out at the farm where the Bunyungs have their water buffalo, and watching dogs fighting, chickens running around and his wife Jan “talking very loudly in Isaan to her mom about some town gossip.”

Luke described eating eel and rice at the festivals, and drinking whiskey with the local Thai cops.  All of it makes me miss Thailand, and I definitely want to return there some day.  I must remember to ask him if the suitcase full of chocolate made it there okay.

Here in Opposite World, I’m trying to impose some strict order on the property, as The Germans, as we like to call them, are coming.  There are currently two relatives here at this time, and two more are expected at the end of the month.  I therefore wanted to have the property cleaned of garbage, and with any luck, I’ll have Luke’s car towed out of here to the scrap metal yard.

Yesterday Nicky’s friend Taylor kindly cleaned the sunroom roof for me, and it looks great.  When German relatives arrive, we start cleaning.  I can’t explain it, but it just occurs.  My sister in law Wendy is in a frenzy down at the Coast, as we’re all staying there the night before the relatives fly back to Germany.

So bit by bit I’m slapping the yard and house into shape, and have been forcing myself to do a bit more with so-called social media when I need a break.  I’m trying to post more on Facebook, so if you’re reading this you may want to be friends with Nuttier than a Fruitcake.  I’m attempting to post recipes and other helpful or funny articles there.

Then thanks to my faithful customer Ken out in Ontario, I’ve asked my web designer to update the testimonials part of my website.  Ken pointed out that all testimonials ended in 2008, and I told him it was due to sloth on my part, and thanked him for giving me the nudge.  I’m obviously not intrinsically motivated.

Now that I have Netflix I’ve been working my way through the old TV series, Lost, and find I dream about it as well. When you watch it nightly you’re immersed in their world, and I end up wondering if this is some kind of religious experience, or are they (or am I) high on acid?  It’s a great mystery, and as I’m on episode #42 of 100, I’ll let you know when I find out.

In the meantime, I have to get out the paint tray, paint and roller, and touch up some of the lattice around the edge of my deck.  First I have to find a nail or two to repair some broken pieces of lattice, and as I don’t own nails, it’s always the smallest details that can derail a project.  Why I don’t buy a pack of nails is another of life’s mysteries.

As mom’s able to move large pieces of furniture around in her house when she’s on a re-decorating binge, she isn’t your typical wheelchair user.  However, as we know some airports require miles of walking, I ordered one to be at the ready from Alaska Airlines for our trip this past week to Palm Springs.

The first leg of our journey was by car, as we drove from Osoyoos to Spokane.  On the way, a nice police officer pulled me over to explain that I was “going a little fast.”  However he must’ve had his quota for the day as he just gave me a warning and let us proceed on our merry way.

We were immediately lost once we’d parked in the handicapped spot at the airport.  Luckily, mom had kept Gerry’s sticker.  After wandering around lost for a while, we managed to find the terminal, and made our way to the boarding gate.

We took one of those teeny tiny airplanes with propellers to Portland, where we waited for a larger plane to Palm Springs.  Mom was met by a wheelchair and a ‘pusher’ so we put all the bags on the chair and off we went to wait.

We had a wheelchair waiting in Palm Springs, so were wheeled right to the exit, where we were met by Brigitte and her husband Bob.  I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Palm Springs, but it’s awfully cute.  There’d been a huge wind that day and bark from the palm trees was strewn over the roads.

We spent two days eating in restaurants and shopping.  Bob and Brigitte drove us around to see different sights, and we sat our in their beautiful yard.  They have a lemon and an orange tree and the fragrance from the orange blossoms was wonderful.  Hummingbirds came and went all day.

Luckily, Bob and Brigitte were babysitting a friend’s Chihuahua, so we even had a little dog around for a bit of dog love.  This little dog is 12 and was sitting there snapping at the air.  I asked Brigitte what she was doing, and she said the dog must have cataracts or floaters and is snapping at imaginary flies.  So adorable.

Brigitte took us to some stores in a nearby town, called Temecula, and we spent some happy time in Target and Nordstrom Rack.  The next day we shopped in her home town of Hemet, and went to Ross and Marshall’s.  And really, in an area of that kind of wealth, what would a shopping trip be without a stop at the local Salvation Army thrift store?

Then it was time to leave, and not wanting to inconvenience ourselves with an early departure, I said there’d be no problem at arriving at Palm Springs airport at 9:00 AM for a 10:00 AM departure.  It would’ve been a problem, but not in the magical wheelchair.  Mom hopped in, the pusher came, and we went right to the head of the line and through security.

We landed in Seattle at 1:00 and our plane left for Spokane at 1:30, yet we made it.  Yep, we even had time to spare, as we were pushed from the arrivals gate to our new departure gate within minutes.

We then got a wheelchair from the Spokane arrivals gate right to the car!  I’m telling you, I don’t care how you do it, but do not travel minus a wheelchair.

It’s raining again today which puts me in an extra-good mood regarding our trip to Palm Springs.  Mom’s friend Brigitte lives there, so we’re going to stay with her and her husband Bob.  Apparently they live in a small town outside of Palm Springs, have a large pool, and said it’s currently 28 degrees C so bring bathing suits.  Fun!

Since Mojo died Nicky says whenever I’m away Ricky howls at night.  Ricky and I sleep together every night, so when I go away he has to sleep in his dog bed on the floor, and he gets mighty lonely.  Being a hound, he likes to tip his head back and let loose with some mournful cries.

Nicky said he just screams from downstairs for the dog to shut up.  I suggested it might be better to move the dog bed downstairs so Ricky doesn’t feel so lonely.  But I can’t cancel trips because the dog’s sad, as I know he has everything he needs, just not me.

And for my nerves it’s good to get away once in a while, as you know I’m never, ever alone in this house.  Luke’s mercifully left for Vancouver, and tomorrow he’s off to Thailand to spend five weeks with Jan.

I had bought some stuff for Jan and her family, and had asked Luke to take it.  He said he certainly wasn’t going to be packing anything much for me, and if it didn’t fit into carry-on he wasn’t taking it.  Then one day he and Jan were talking on Skype and Jan said make sure you bring lots of chocolate.  And soap.

As you’ll recall, I had taken 60 pounds of gifts when I went in November, most of which was chocolate.  Then when a friend of mine from the gym went to Thailand in February I sent chocolates for her to give to Jan.  So I assumed Luke would take gifts, but he said no.

Luckily, the Mrs. is able to motivate him better than I can, so once given the order he said to me, “Mom, you have to get me 25 boxes of chocolate.”  I went to Costco and got a whole bunch of their Belgian chocolate, and then went over to Home Sense for bars of soap made in Italy.

I’m not overly hopeful about it all though, as taking 60 pounds of chocolate to the tropics is harder than it sounds.  I did it successfully because I’m a Type A, so I made sure the suitcase was kept cool under any and all conditions.  IE in the Bangkok train station: “Run! Run! We have to get the air conditioned train.”

When I drove Luke to the airport he had tumbled out of bed, straight into the car.  Teeth unbrushed, greasy hair in a nest on the back of his head.  We put the suitcase in the trunk, and when he took it out at the airport I gave him one more pep talk about vigilance, but had a sinking feeling.

Never mind.  My problems are more immediate in that I have to imagine what 28 degrees C feels like and go through my wardrobe and pick the appropriate things.  Mom and I are both taking carry-on only, so I have to be mindful of the quantity on the way there.  If I happen to shop a bit, I’ll want a bit of room, won’t I?

Out in the yard, Luke has his old car on jacks, hood open, two of the tires removed.  The kids took off the exhaust as they needed it to repair Nicky’s old Civic.  Beside that wreck there’s a huge pile of pine needles from the yard, topped with my former gate.

It was weird as I was looking out the kitchen window at the dump truck sized pile of pine needles, and I was thinking about how nice it’d be to have them hauled away.  Then I thought to myself, what the heck is that white structure right on the top?  I had to leave the house and walk over as I was so intrigued by the gleaming whiteness and symmetry of the object.

I soon realized it was the gate from the top of the stairs leading to the landing at my front door!  I wondered why in the name of God in Heaven my children would’ve removed that without asking me.  However I had to admit to myself I’ve always hated that gate and never understood its purpose.

I asked the kids, and they explained the wood in the gate was rotten and it no longer closed.  I said fine, but can you please get rid of the pine needles, random garbage and the car on jacks for me?  I’m hoping this’ll be done within the next few weeks, as we have even more German relatives due April 29th.

Currently a really nice couple, aged 24 named Nicola and Sebastian, are here until the end of June.  They’re going to volunteer at the Red Cross for a couple of hours a day to improve their English.  I helped them find a cute furnished basement suite in the Mission, and they’re happy touring around the Okanagan.

Sadly, they have to use Nicky’s 1992 Civic.  The exhaust fell off in what I consider to be a very lucky place.  They were visiting mom in Osoyoos, and had been sight-seeing all the way there, taking a nice detour to Naramata and back.  Then just past mom’s the incident occured, and they were able to reach her and let her know they were stuck.

Mom called her neighbour, Gerry, a self-sufficient farmer, who drove right up, wired and duct-taped the exhaust back on, and sent them on their merry way.  It was an excellent opportunity for the German kids to see Canadian ingenuity in action.

They’ve learned how to bump-start a vehicle, too, which I said to mom will be another invaluable skill someday.  The first time it occurred they phoned and said the car was stalled on a busy street.  Nicky got on the phone and calmly said for them to push to car, jump in and make sure it’s in second gear, then let the clutch out abruptly.

We held our breath, and I said those kids’ll be phoning any minute asking you to go and help them.  But we waited, and then they phoned and said they had started the car on their own!

After this incident they felt completely happy to drive the car to Big White, which I thought was exceedingly brave on their part.  Yesterday they took my suggested route to Vernon and around Westside Road back to Kelowna.  Maybe we’ll make Canadians out of them yet.

For once I’ve made a list of plants before driving off to the nurseries.  I have every intention of buying them while sitting here at my computer, but when I get to Art Knapps or The Greenery, something happens.  If I can’t find the exact plant I want, instead of waiting or looking elsewhere for it, I buy a random substitute.

Sometimes I hate my list by the time I’m in the store and prefer all the lovely things they have on display instead.  Then I get home with an unruly assortment of finicky plants that don’t fit in anywhere.

You’ll recall I hired a landscaper last year, and had the lower lawn converted to a xeriscape garden.  This year I’m going to continue on my own, and hope to find some of the plants used down there for beds around the upper deck.  Imagine how beautiful it could be if all one uniform, sensible theme.

But why would I think that’d occur outside when inside my closets there’s a riot of colours and styles, I’m not sure.  I don’t think I’m a One Theme kind of person.  When I look at my recently-purchased Bill Blass pumps ($6 at Sally Ann) beside my pink canvas flats, I can see competing moods, can’t you?

I don’t think gardening’s going to be the fun it used to be, thanks to the new house across the street and now some type of hotel being built on the bluff behind me!  I e mailed a city councillor yesterday and asked her why that’s allowed in this rural area.

As you know my greatest joy is pushing the wheelbarrow around in summer while in my underwear, and now I can see that’s going to cause a lot of anxiety for many people.  Naturally, I refuse to budge on how I dress in my own yard, so all I can say is, if thine eyes offend thee, pluck them out.

But for me it’s also kind of disconcerting as now I’ll have to make sure to keep my stomach pulled in at all times.  Try to do that while gardening and you’ll see what I mean about my summers being less fun.

You can imagine my profound disappointment last week at the Rutland Hospital Auxiliary Thrift Store.  They had three pairs of Joseph Ribkoff pants for $2 a pair, but all were too small.  But I managed to find darling Liz Claiborne cuffed stretch jeans for the same price, so left placated.

One of my goals was to clean up my newsletter bulk e mail recipients by deleting old e mail addresses and adding new contacts.  As I worked on it last week I was thrilled to recall I had the addresses of everyone contacted regarding our 40th high school reunion last year.

So that was a windfall of contacts, and I added all of those.  Then as usual, when I sent out my March newsletter, orders followed.  It’s a fabulous marketing tool, for sure.

We’ve got German relatives here and I baked a banana loaf and gave it to them, and they loved it.  Luke’s coming home in a day or two, so I’ll be baking and cooking for him, whether he wants it or not.  I suppose that remains my main theme:  Food Production.

The sad news is dear Gerry Bruck departed this Earth at 5:30 PM on Friday March 8th.  However, he had my mom, his dog and his two sons at his side, so he was well-supported on his journey.  Mom decided to have a cocktail party for him on Sunday, the 10th, so one was quickly organized.

It was great because at least 40 people were there, all with a special relationship to Gerry.  People said how much they enjoyed getting to know him, and when you think of moving somewhere at age 87 and being able to make so many friends, at that age, it’s quite remarkable.

The party started at 4:00 PM and people were handed glasses of wine as they arrived.  Jerralynn had made some nice h’ors d’oeuvres, and Ginette and I helped with preparing some crackers and finger foods.

The mayor was the MC and he started by telling a tale of his experience with mom and Gerry when he visited them in Nicaragua.  Then he invited others to speak, and several lovely speeches were made.  Nicky spoke beautifully about how he loved Gerry for how happy he made his gramma.  Both of Gerry’s sons gave heart-felt speeches.

By 6:00 PM most people had cleared out, and we were left with the die-hards.  After an hour of being the recipients of wine-inspired pontifications delivered at about 100 decibels, mom managed to wedge the mayor out the door.  When I counted the empty wine bottles, I saw 28 had been drunk.

However, some people had half a glass, and a few had none, so I think several people had at least a bottle to themselves in that short time.  Gerry Jr, still on Manhattan time even after a week’s visit, was completely inebriated and had to go to bed at 8:00 PM.

In other words, it was a fitting good-bye to Gerry from the Osoyoos crowd.  I think he would’ve been very happy over all of it, and knowing that made all of us feel good too.  In fact mom hopped right into the bed Gerry had died in and I slept in the same room that night, too, because his passing was as natural as birth.

One of the lovely things Gerry’s son David talked about in his speech was about the way Gerry carried on.  He loved to ski, but when he developed macular degeneration he had to stop at age 88.  He did his last run, and put away his skis for good, saying that was great for 80 years but that’s it.

He was an artist and painted, and when he couldn’t paint anymore he had to put away his brushes and paints.  Same thing, he put them away saying wow, that was great, but now it’s over.  He never brooded about things that were out of his control.

In his last years he enjoyed sitting in his chair with the dog on his lap, listening to books on tape or watching CNN.  His mind was always active, and he remained in an excellent mood until the day he died.

So trust me when I tell you this:  we all have a happy button, but some people choose not to turn it on.  He chose to turn his on every day, and I plan to continue to emulate that until my last breath.

This beautiful Buddhist chant means devotion to the mystical law, and I’ve been chanting like a lunatic all week.  Poor dear Gerry, who is to turn 98 on March 13th, is gravely ill and we’re all holding vigil at his bedside.  This makes it very hard to be in a witty mood, though he’d want that as he’s an extremely funny man.

Gerry moved in with my mom when he was 87 and she was 77.  They got their first dog the following year, and Schwartzie the poodle is now 9 years old.  The funniest part of that is how much mom has always hated pets, and now says getting the poodle was the best thing they ever did.

Gerry was born in New York, and when I try to describe Gerry to people I say, “He’s Woody Allan’s dad.”  And truly, when Woody is that age, he’ll talk and look exactly like Gerry.

For example, two days ago the nurse came into the house to visit Gerry in his bed.  She said to him, “Are you comfortable?” and he shrugged and said in his New York accent, “I make a good living.”  Bada boom.

And so we shouldn’t be sad, but it’s always hard not to go berserk when you care about someone who’s departing this Earth.  But he’s got my mom, his two sons David and Gerry Jr and Schwartzie at his bedside, so he’s in a very upbeat mood.

I’m semi-joyful with some small progress on my memoir Nuttier than a Fruitcake.  You have no idea how enjoyable it is to recount the beginnings of the fruitcake business.  The hard part is to stop obsessing over details like how to improve a sentence, and to just keep moving ever onwards to completion.  That’s when all the picky editing can begin.

Many beginning writers would kill to have this, but I have a creative writing department professor from UBC Okanagan who’s going to read my manuscript and edit it for me!  Crazy or what?  And then I’ll have to see if I can figure out an e book, and hope for the best.  And really, as long as it’s a fun exercise, that’s the main thing.

And then purely for health I left the computer and did some brisk walking around the thrift stores to break up any clots that might be forming from prolonged sitting.  An amazing find occurred at the Salvation Army thrift store as I got a pair of vintage Bill Blass pumps in mint condition for $6.00.

That sort of thing puts a person in an excellent mood of optimism.  And sure enough I found a McCalls tunic pattern for 50 cents at the Mennonite thrift store.  Uncontrollable, I went into the Bibles for Missions and bought an adorable sapphire blue handbag for $3.00.

So it’s as the Dali Lami says, it’s our duty to be happy, even during those times that try us.  And when that becomes very difficult, I sit at my shrine, light some incense and then chant nam myoho renge kyo and leave it all up to the Heavens.  A while later I’m feeling much better, typing away, dreaming of vintage Bill Blass somewhere out there.

I was just in Osoyoos for mom’s birthday lunch and the menu was exhausting but lovely.  Jerralynn, our own gourmet cook, made a whole bunch of delicious things.  We started with a goat cheese terrine which tasted as good as it looked.  It was made with dill, chives and dried fruit, and spread on home made croustinis.

Then she’d made homemade cream of tomato soup, using roasted tomatoes, and she topped the individual ramekins with pastry then baked them.  For the main course Jerralynn fried bacon, then braised Savoy cabbage in the fat.  In the meantime she’d made an herb rub which she put on salmon fillets and then they were baked in the oven.

The salmon was served on the braised cabbage which contained bits of bacon.  For dessert she’d made tres leches cake, which is made with a can of sweetened condensed milk, regular canned milk and heavy cream.  First you bake the cake, then the milks are poured on and soak in so the texture is almost pudding-like.

Luke had surprised us by coming home from Saskatchewan for the weekend, so he and Nicky were both at their gramma’s 88th birthday party.  The mayor of Osyoos and his wife were there, as well as Major General Lise Mathieu who’s retired there.  Mom doesn’t like to slum on her birthday.

And now I’m back at home and with spring around the corner the yard looks like Hell from the winter.  I need to get out there and start to clean up the pine needles and do general cutting back of all dead things.  I just don’t want to due to laziness.

I went to Fabricland and felt overwhelmed, couldn’t buy a pattern or fabric, and left feeling defeated.  However I went on-line and looked at patterns there, and may be able to persevere long enough to order one that way.  I have no idea how that’ll work as I think you print it yourself.

But then that’ll likely end up with other projects, half done, and thrown into a corner.  I may need to do something a bit more practical like paint all the ugly areas in this old house.  But then I think about starting to empty a room and taping it and feel sick.

I did manage to drop Okanagan Harvest cakes at Terwilligers in Penticton, and I took samples to the owner of Indie Lulu on Main Street of Osoyoos.  Both are gift shops where people get a lot of individual attention, so those are the best places for my product.

I was at the post office the other day and a nice clerk who’s a regular customer ordered a fruitcake.  When I arrived she said, “You don’t happen to have fruitcakes in the car do you?”  She needed one badly, so I said I’d drop one off to her.

I need about 499 other people like that, who are like mom, and have developed a yen for fruitcake no matter the season.  Then I could just stay in my lazy rut, doing very little except dropping off orders.

But soon enough, it’d be time to bake again, and then I’d be in another resistant state, not wanting to do that, either.

In this month’s newsletter my web designer added a nice graphic of a U turn sign to my column entitled, “It’s a Woman’s Prerogative to Change her Mind.”  I was explaining why there’s no longer chocolate bark on my website and how I’m returning to my original premise of making only fruitcakes.

And now, another U turn, as you’ll recall I wasn’t going to sell wholesale but instead drive people to my website.  However, I’ve decided I’m going to allow some stores to carry the Okanagan Harvest cake during the year.  This is mainly due to small Okanagan stores asking me about it, and so I thought why not?

So next week I’m going to deliver some to Sue Baldwin, the owner of Indie Lulu on Main Street, Osoyoos.  I’ve never been to her store, so I’m looking forward to it.  I’m also going to stock Terwilliger’s Gifts on Main Street, Penticton again, as that’s another logical place for my product. 

As you know, Luke left for the oil rigs a while ago.  The other day the electricity bill came and I nearly wept as it was double what it usually is.  I went downstairs to show it to Nicky, the person who must have every light and electronic device in the house on at all times.

He said, “I think it was because Luke left the space heater on in the garage.  I discovered it the other day when I went in to get the oil for your car.”  I simply don’t know if that much adrenalin coursing through a person’s veins can be good for them, but I just replied, “Well he’ll have to repay me for that.”

A day or two later as I was walking down the driveway I looked at Nicky’s bedroom window and saw the screen was torn.  Once again, I went downstairs and told him.  He replied,  “I think I might have torn that the other time I forgot my key and had to break in.”

I just stood there saying nothing, looking at him, and then he added, “I’ll buy a new one.”  I said, “Good” and walked upstairs.  I think I made myself either a Manhattan or a Cosmopolitan, but I’m not sure which.

The thrift shopping’s getting out of hand, as now I’m ending up with things I neither need nor even really want.  The other week I’d seen a nice porcelain statue of a rearing horse that I liked, made in Bavaria, but I balked a the $10 price tag.  On Saturday when I returned to the Mennonite Thrift store I noticed it was $7.

At the till I said to the cashier I really liked the horse, but as one ear’s chipped, I didn’t want to pay $7.  She said would you take it for $2.50 and I said sure.  However I was actually there for their silent art auction, as if you’ve ever been here and seen my 50 original paintings you know I need even more.

The painting I wanted was an oil by an Okanagan artist named Betty Howe.  The minimum bid was $35 so I wrote down $50 and then felt sick.  I drove away praying someone would out-bid me. The auction ended at 5:00 and they’re closed Sundays, but on Monday morning I received the call that the painting was mine.

But once I got it home and found the perfect spot for it I realized I’d felt sick for nothing, as it’s really lovely. So once again, I had to do a U turn and change my mind.

I’m excited because I get to send even more chocolate to Thailand.  You’ll recall I took 15 or 20 pounds of chocolate in my suitcase on my trip, and the people in Jan’s village were crazy over it.  Not that they got a lot, as I heard Jan’s mother ate the majority of it.  But a friend from the gym is going to Bangkok with her husband, and they’re going to meet with Jan, and Marilyn said she’s happy to take a few boxes for me.

The new long weekend in February was great, though I did nothing of any value.  Of course I visited all of my favourite stores, the Rutland Hospital Auxiliary Thrift Store, The Mennonite Thrift Store, the Salvation Army, and on Sundays at 10:00 I always go to “church”.  That would be Value Village, as the other three are closed that day.

Because it’s February I have little to do, so am bored out of my nut, and therefore I get excited over the smallest things.  I was browsing around on-line the other week and came across a company that puts family coats of arms on all manner of things.  My mom’s maiden name is Castillon, and I ordered a mouse pad with the family coat of arms on it.

Why a mouse pad for an 88-year-old?  Because mom learned how to send and receive e mails, Google items of interest and Skype in the past year.  So what could be more adorable than a personalized mouse pad?  I’ve had the same red standard dachshund mouse pad for about 18 years.

I think Luke must’ve lived prior lives in Thailand as he’s very comfortable when there.  I said that to Jan, and she said, “Wherever he was, I was with him.  We were soul mates in past lives and now we found each other again.”  Isn’t that adorable?  But there’s something wonderful about Thailand, and I find myself thinking about it often.

One fortunate thing is I’m friends on Facebook with Pon, a woman who works at the Secret Garden on Koh Samui, where we stayed.  I adore reading her posts, though last week I was alarmed to see the Rottweiler, Roti, was missing.  She said John, the Dutch owner, was sleepless with worry.

I had sent a message saying I loved having that dog accompany me as I walked along the beach.  He loved digging for live crabs in the sand and could find them hidden a couple of feet down.  But then a couple of days later she posted the dog had been found and John rewarded the Thai man who found him 5,000 Baht ($160.00).

But you know something interesting that happened as a result of the trip to Thailand and seeing people that poor?  I kind of look at the 25 pairs of pants, 30 tops and 45 pairs of shoes and think enough already!  Even if bought for five bucks at a thrift store, it’s just way too much stuff for one person to own.  And then I never wear three quarters of it, so why have it?

And now, as spring looms, I have two choices.  I can paint this room, or I can begin to write that damned memoir of Nuttier.  I pictured choosing the paint colour, taping the room, finding the paint tray, pouring the paint, getting a drop sheet and brush, and suddenly inspiration hit.  Please think positive thoughts for me, and maybe for once, I’m going to write the stupid memoir.