I was a complete wreck after Jack Layton’s funeral on Saturday.  I’m the sort of person you just hate to have near you during a time of grief.  I always cry far harder than the directly bereaved.  Even someone who is good at remaining composed gets thrown off by someone like me who cries right into their face.

But then I suppose that’s what I have to accept about myself, as it counter-balances the times I’m flat on the ground, laughing at something inane.  I was watching an episode of Trailer Park Boys the other night, and killing myself.  It was the episode where Randy becomes the manager of the trailer park, and he has to remove dozens and dozens of Ricky’s dad’s pee jugs.

Nicky and Luke were quite insulted a while ago when I mulled over for the hundredth time who I’d cast for Trailer Park Boys.  I said, “You guys’d be Cory and Trevor.” As Cory and Trevor are so dumb they’re treated as pets, the boys were quite miffed at my suggestion.  No matter how I cast it though, my brother always gets to play Julian, as he’s a dead-ringer for him.

And now the good news: I found the shade of pink I was searching for and will be painting my bedroom this weekend.  Then I looked at this room, my office, and realized it needs painting, too.  Now I have to spend God knows how long choosing the right colour for in here.  You see why I can’t do anything?

This morning I moved four large house plants back into the house, causing a domino-effect of decorating changes.  This took a couple of hours, as I had to spend several minutes just standing and feeling the ambiance after each item was placed in its new spot.  When I say to people, “My home is my castle” they really have no idea how seriously I mean that.

Nicky’s finished his summer job as a warehouseman at Canadian Tire, and is preparing for school by eating.  I don’t know why, but after dinner he continues to have a salad bowl of cereal with half a litre of Creamo, then he gets into the chips and cookies.  Sadly, he is leaner than ever, so it’s just rude.

On Monday I met Kathy and her new boyfriend David, as well as Kathy’s relatives for some chicken wings and wine at their local pub.  There was a couple visiting from Germany, so I got to practice my German, which was fun.  Sadly, after drinking wine at the pub I had champagne at Kathy’s, and then I don’t think you’ll be surprised to hear I had to miss gym the following morning.

Because I love to laugh like a wild hyena whenever possible, I’ve made a list of comedies I have to rent one of these days.  The reason I don’t rent them is really quite sad; it’s because I don’t trust myself to be able to play a DVD.  It’s true.  I bought a camera in July, and it’s still in its box, even though I was so excited about the prospect of making cooking videos for You Tube.

But what can I do?  I try to focus on the positives, such as the moussaka I made for the first time that Nicky declared delicious.  We all have our strengths and weaknesses, which is probably a good thing.

I’m fortunate to be surrounded by people who inspire me.  When Alison was here early this month I invited mom and Gerry to come up for lunch.  For something different, I made a pitcher of Tom Collins’.  Actually, Vodka Collins’.  There were six of us for lunch, so I used 12 ounces of vodka.

To this one adds lemon juice, a bit of sugar and club soda, plus ice.  After Gerry had downed the last of his, he turned to mom and asked, “Was there alcohol in here?”  As you may recall, he’s 96 years old, and so I hope to God when I’m 96 I’ll be asking that very same question of someone.  Isn’t that inspirational?  To down a two-ounce highball, and then go, “What?”

Another insanely inspirational person is a woman named Pat from the gym.  She’s 77 years old, and is stepping and lifting weights with a vigor that stuns new members.  I love it when new young gals prance in, look at us fat/old babes, and think to themselves, “Watch this.”

Yeah, we watch them alright.  Too bad after a few minutes their fire hydrant red faces give them away as perhaps not quite as fit as they thought they were.  Even for us regulars it’s hard to compete with someone like Pat, as she even bikes to the freaking gym, for God’s sake.  Can you believe it?

For what I like to call United Church food, there’s no greater inspiration than Alison.  I mentioned in an earlier blog that she suggested pasta salad while here.  I’ve made it twice since, and Nicky and I just love it.  Not sure what it actually has to do with the United Church, but I kind of put foods like Jello and pasta salads in that category.  Blandness, maybe?

Now if I could just find some type of baking/marketing inspiration from someone.  It makes me sick the way I purposely hide from the business.  But honestly, I’m just too busy with all of my projects.  For example, on Saturday mom gave me half a dozen of Gerry’s water colours.

They were all unframed, so on Sunday I went to Value Village to look for ugly prints in nice matted frames that could work for my new art.  Then as I was at Value Village anyway, I decided to look at every other department, eventually leaving with three frames, ten dinner plates, three decorative pillows and eight place mats.

Today I had to invest time in searching for a new recipe for ground beef.  Nicky and I are getting kind of tired of the same old stuff.  Now I have a lovely Texas-style meatloaf in the oven, and if it’s any good, I’ll put the recipe in a newsletter.

Then believe it or not, I’m still on the hunt for the right shade of pink for my bedroom.  However, today I believe I may have found it, so will now be filling all of the holes, taping, etc. in preparation for painting on the weekend.

Hence, no time for fruitcake, but easily finding the motivation to garden, cook, decorate and shop.  What is up with that?

All I can do from morning until night is move sprinklers around, so I haven’t done a thing I’m supposed to be doing.  I thought idly of roasting some nuts, or chopping some chocolate, and went meh.  Perhaps once fall has properly arrived I’ll be motivated to do something for the business.

Besides, I prefer to devote myself to cooking and baking for my own purposes.  The other night I made a lovely dinner of wild salmon accompanied by fries made from my own potatoes, as well as broccoli and sweet potatoes, all grown right here in Kelowna.

Then I went into a bit of a cupcake mania, which was interesting.  I made a low-cal chocolate cupcake recipe from a cookbook I got from Jerralynn called Grazing by Julie Rosendaal.  It was Nicky’s 22nd birthday, so I made the cupcakes for our small family celebration last Friday.  Denis came over and we barbecued steaks.

But then on Nicky’s actual birthday, on Tuesday, I made sponge cake cupcakes from the Joy of Cooking cookbook.  I’ve never made boiled icing, so decided to give it a try.  Nicky decided he preferred the low-cal chocolate cupcakes to the fairly low-cal sponge cake.

Last evening I met Kathy and David for wings at the pub near her house.  Did you know cheap chicken wings on Wednesdays is a thing here at restaurants in Kelowna?  I had two lovely glasses of Gray Monk Gewurtztraminer with my spicy breaded wings, and it was a great combination.

The conversation came around to why we thought the youth were rioting in London.  I opined that it was much like the youth rioting at the Stanley Cup in Vancouver – just a bunch of brats on the loose with nothing to do.  I said they were obviously not raised in a European household, where one wasn’t even allowed to drag their feet, never mind break a store window.

Besides being asked to lift my feet while walking, my father made it clear he couldn’t stand yawning.  He considered it the height of rudeness.  Hyena-like laughing was out of the question.

I believe that our generation was so awed and frightened by their off-spring we couldn’t even tell them to sit up straight and eat with their mouths shut.

You reap what you sow, and now we’re all saddled with these louts who have neither manners nor guidance.  For examples, I guess shows like Jack Ass serve as what to do when bored.  And don’t get me wrong, I’ve watched a couple of Jack Ass movies myself, though I spent a lot of them covering my eyes and going, “ouch!”

Oh well.  Not everyone wants to spend their days wearing cute aprons and browsing cookbooks while wiping the backs of floured hands across their moistened brows.  But compared to looting I have to say it’s a lot more meditative.

We used to alternately be teased, or else tease fellow students in primary school with these types of rhymes.  Imagine how few girls chose to wear pink as a result of these brilliant little masterpieces.  Even we geniuses at Osoyoos Elementary Junior Secondary school faltered at rhymes for people wearing orange or purple.

I can’t understand what possessed me to think it would be easy to paint my bedroom pink, but on the surface it seemed quite simple.  Grab the May 2007 issue of Martha Stewart, which showcases her home in Maine, all painted a lovely shade of pink.  Take this to the paint department at Rona, and come home with your paint.

However, as the kind woman at Rona explained, the light in rooms varies, so you can’t really tell from a chip what you’re going to get.  Luckily I heeded her advice, and got a tester can of a pale pink.  I painted various parts of the wall, and can see that it’s going to be a bit of a trick getting a warm, rosy pink.

That damned Martha, eh?  I’ve done more insane things than I care to think about thanks to that woman.  I still remember quite a few years ago saying to Denis with some surprise, “I can barely get all of the things done that she suggests each month!” To which he explained, “But she has an entire staff helping her.”

It’s true, it’s just little old me doing all of it.  But some of  it can be fun, especially the creative aspects of life, like collecting.  In this month’s Martha she shows a collection of old recipe booklets.  They reminded me of being a kid and being fascinated by TV shows on CBC sponsored by Kraft Canada.

I come from a German family, so it was always fascinating to see Cheese Whiz, mini coloured marshmallows, lime jello and Whip ‘n Chill turned into a casserole for the family dinner.  My grandparents were always going, “ugh” but as a first-generation Canadian, I secretly yearned for strange food like that.

I guess I got over it, because there’s no Whip ‘n Chill in this house.  I continue to cook things like curried meatballs, Thai curried chicken, Greek pork chops, spaghetti and meat sauce, Greek style shrimp, cabbage rolls, and butter chicken for the child and myself.  My dream of a Philadelphia cream cheese with fruity marshmallows side salad will probably never come true.

On Saturday I had a humming bird stuck in the sun room, but by removing every screen it finally found its way out.  Then I went down to the vegetable garden and there were three adolescent quail in my greenhouse!  I had to show them the way out, and it was hard as that is a dumb breed of bird.

But you’ll be quite proud to know I took samples of fruitcake to the local Art Knapps.  Then I e mailed the guy from Choices who I met at the cherry event last month.  He replied that he sent the fruitcakes to head office in Vancouver.  So it’s all I can do at this time, and now back to the paint department for more chips and tester cans of pink paint.

 In case you’re wondering, farfalle is butterfly or bow-shaped pasta.  Thanks to my friend Alison’s inspiration, I was able to turn it into two different and very fabulous salads.

Alison arrived from Toronto on Sunday, following Margaret’s Friday departure and the surprise arrival from Luke on the same day.  It’s that joyous time of year in the Okanagan when the guest beds never really have a chance to cool down between visitors.

Another friend of 51 years, Liz, came to Kelowna and got Alison at the airport and they both arrived in time for dinner.  I made Jerralynn’s brown sugar and butter-topped salmon, and accompanied it with cucumber and potato salads and local green beans.  I made an apricot crisp for dessert, topped with dollops of whipped cream.

The potatoes came from my garden.  I dug them up on Sunday morning and we ate them for dinner on Sunday evening.  I love living like that.  We also made the trek up and down to the vegetable garden for herbs to add to all of the meals.

On Monday mom and Gerry came up for lunch, as they wanted to visit with Alison, and also Luke was home so it was fun.  I served the leftover salmon in a pasta salad made with the farfalle.  It was great with oil and vinegar and chopped fresh herbs.

On Tuesday we drove to Penticton and I brought lunch for Liz, Liza, Alison and me.  On the way home we had a yen for a bit of shopping, so stopped at Winners and then at a sweet wine shop in Guisachan Mall.

By the time we arrived home we needed the wine badly, so then decided to use the rest of the farfalle for yet another kind of quick and easy salad.  We shredded the leftover chicken we had, and added giant sliced olives, lemon juice, herbs and olive oil and voila, another fab dinner.

The wine went down like honey, so needless to say on Wednesday as I drove Alison to the airport I felt rather sick, but luckily able to drive.  As I always say, thank God for Gravol, as I don’t know what I’d do without it.

Luke left on the same day, so now it’s just back to Nicky and me, and peace and quiet.  I woke up this morning after a long sleep and felt great.  I adore having people visit, because I love Margaret, Alison and Luke, but I have to say I’m also the kind of person who can be alone very happily.

And then of course I’m supposed to be working on the fruitcake business, which makes me sick whenever I think of it.  However, to lull myself into beginning, I’ve decided the best approach is to spend the month prepping.  You know, chopping the chocolate and nuts and so on.  If I can just pretend I’m making ingenious recipes perhaps I can get through the drudgery of it.

Besides the dogs and cats, the lovely birds, squirrels, raccoons and coyotes, I seem to have a deer residing on the property.  I feel so much like Snow White right now, though I must say I’m very glad not to be taking care of a gaggle of dwarves.

The deer seems very mellow, as it was really close to me, just standing there and looking at me with, well, doe eyes.  I’ve seen and heard too many reports lately of deer beating up small dogs, as well as people, so I looked at it, clapped and said, “Beat it!”  It gracefully hopped over the fence and trotted down the hill.

I guess it must now be consoling itself with my tomatoes and broccoli.  I’m not even going to go down there to see what’s happening.  I have no time, anyway.  Margaret’s been here since Saturday, so we’ve been keeping our calendar as full as possible.

I couldn’t even get ready for Margaret’s arrival on Saturday because I was at the annual Cherry Fair at the Laurel Building downtown.  Farmers were there with a variety of cherries for the public to sample, and then there were the intrepid vendors such as myself.

Can you imagine my joy when I arrived to see my table was right beside Choices Market?  A manager was there flogging cherry juice and giving coupons.  I told him about my product, and he started to do the old two-handed, palms-up, backing away saying something about head office making all decisions.

I told him not to worry, but said he might be missing out on a great product.  Soon the public streamed in and people started to sample my chocolate bark and fruitcakes, and people were screaming, “This is the best fruitcake I’ve ever eaten!” and soon I had to drive home and get more fruitcakes!

Luckily Kathy was there to hold the fort for me.  By 3:00 PM I turned to the manager of Choices, and said, “You see, people do seem to like my product.”  To which he went, no kidding, took one of each, and said he seriously wants to do business with me!

Another place that wants my fruitcakes as a result of the Cherry Fair is Davison Orchards, a fruit stand in Vernon.  The manager told me they have a large gourmet section, and carry very high-end products in it, so she thought my product would fit in perfectly.

Hence the Cherry Fair was well worth it, and perhaps some of the people who didn’t buy, but who took my card, will eventually become customers.

I’ve been making tons and tons of apricot jam, and then freezing it so it’ll be beautiful in January or February when I need to taste the Okanagan sun.  Unlike Snow White, I tend to become cranky from time to time, and find something like apricot jam a great antidote for a bad mood.

You know how I swoon over apricot jam each year.  Other than a nice tart plum, it’s the only jam I bother to make.  For those of you who’ve never eaten a ripe Okanagan apricot, you’re probably perplexed why one would do it.  You’ve likely just seen those small, half-green, very hard, tasteless pale things at the store.

It must be similar to the way I regard figs.  I’ve only ever eaten a dried fig, so when I see recipes involving figs, I go, ew.  However, photos of ripe figs do look kind of enticing, so there must be something good about them if gotten from the right source.

The south Okanagan is the right source for large, sweet, juicy apricots.  Mom’s neighbours Lynn and Gerry have about 10 trees, just for their own use.  As Nicky and I were in Osoyoos on Friday, he went out with Lynn to pick a bunch before we left for home on Saturday.

I talked to mom on the phone and said just tell Lynn to keep the apricots coming.  Nicky and I sort through them daily and eat the ripe ones, so not sure how many will be left for jam.

Margaret’s coming on Saturday, so I’m very excited and happy about that.  We’ll do a south Okanagan wine tour on Monday, and have lunch with mom, Gerry and our friend Jerralynn.  Then hopefully I can get another 20 pounds or so of lovely apricots to bring home.

I feel sick even telling you about this, but I’m finally going to try to get with the times and post videos as part of my website, newsletter, blog, etc.  It sounds crazy when you know I regard a pepper mill as having way too many confusing parts.  Now I’m supposed to turn something on, plug things in, load stuff.  I’m nauseous as I type.

Being the narcissist that I am, I love the idea of the final product.  Being the idiot, though, means there are probably going to be a lot of upsets between the idea and You Tube.  I did a rehearsal in Osoyoos, and can see it’s going to be a lot of fun to cook and bake things while being filmed.

Note to self: never go sleeveless. It was another learning experience to see myself on screen, and go yikes to the upper arms.  I think age 50 is probably the cut-off for anything sleeveless for filming purposes.  You don’t see Martha sleeveless do you?

Jerralynn made a fabulous lemon mousse as part of my birthday dinner last Friday.  That dessert was one of those things that I’ll dream about for the rest of my life.  So I was thinking, maybe that’d be a good thing to do.  Get a new recipe, and try it in front of the camera to show people that everyone has to puzzle through new things.  I may have to reiterate that to myself when I get to Part 1: filming.

I’m making bark right now, so feel that perhaps I’m finally able to get moving again with the business.  As the bark’s currently cooling on the counter, I thought what a great opportunity to write this week’s blog.

Some of today’s bark is for an order from a loyal fruitcake customer.  I’ll use the rest for the big cherry event on July 23 at the Wine Museum in downtown Kelowna.  Actually, I’ll have to make pounds of bark for that day as they’re expecting around 1,000 visitors.

I’ve been a veritable social butterfly for the past week.  On Tuesday I was invited to Kathy’s for a dinner party.  It was tons of fun because two of the guests couldn’t speak much English, so I was able to speak German to them.  They’re a lovely couple from Dresden, and it was interesting to hear about their lives in the former East Zone.

Then on Wednesday I went out for lunch with my pal of 51 years, Liz, and her mom Liza.  Isn’t that adorable?  Liz and Liza.  We went to Joey’s near Costco and I must say I’ve never had bad food there, so highly recommend it.

On Friday I met Marilyn for lunch at Yama’s, a Greek restaurant in downtown Kelowna.  I always have the same thing, which is their deep-fried calamari.  I don’t think anyone else in town can compete with theirs.  The rings are a nice size, and they’re always nice and dark, not pale and half-cooked as I’ve had in some nasty restaurants.

The capper occurred yesterday when I picked Jerry Jr. up at the airport and delivered him to Osoyoos.  He’s mom’s partner’s son, and lives in Manhattan.  Mom’s pal Jerralynn came over for dinner, too, so we all had a pleasant evening and mom allowed me into bed at 11:00 PM which was really great.

Jerry Jr., though a darling man, is a tad on the eccentric side, in my opinion.  How else to explain a person bathing at 5:23 AM 10 feet away from my bedroom door?  He was sleeping downstairs, and I was in the computer room, which means we were sharing the old original bathroom which only has a tub.

Just due to simple force of will I was able to go back to sleep, and felt great when I woke up at 8:15 AM.  By 8:30 four new people had arrived.  Jerry Sr.’s organ needed repair (not what you’re thinking) and mom’s cleaning person, Ginette, came to start working.  The house was a beehive of activity before I’d even had my first cup of Joe.

Now I’m back home and it’s just me and the chocolate.  Once I’ve made pounds of bark and packaged the one order,  I’m going to feel great.  Hopefully that’ll give me the impetus to begin with what is most crucial at this point, which is to start marketing. 

Margaret, the marketing maven, wants me to make videos of myself cooking various things for You Tube.  Jerry Jr.’s a video and camera genius, so he’s going to give me a lesson using my camera when I return to Osoyoos on Friday. Unfortunately, the new digital cameras’ lenses can’t be smeared with Vaseline so that the image is softened.  Pity.

I invited mom and Gerry up to Kelowna this past weekend, as I wanted them to see the yard all clean and tidy.  It hasn’t looked like this since we bought the place 21 years ago.  However, there’s a new sheriff in town, and she’s a tidy, old, cranky sheriff, so the place is going to be clean from now on.

As you’ll recall, I had the Biggest Garbage Removal Bill of all time a few weeks ago as I had three trucks full of detritus hauled away.  Then, I had a lovely arbour installed in the gap in the cedar hedge, leading down to my vegetable garden complete with bee hive.

So the final touch was to rake, sweep and generally tidy every bit of the paved area, and now it’s absolutely lovely.  Of course my right hand was swollen to the size of a bear’s claw by the time all of this was achieved, but I have to say, the place really does look great.  And on top of it all, there’s  nary a car up on blocks in sight!

When mom and Gerry arrived just before noon on Saturday I handed them a nice cold Margarita.  Then for lunch I made salmon in a cream sauce served in freshly baked vol au vent shells with salad on the side.  For dessert I made meringue shells, and filled them with strawberry compote made from local strawberries, and topped with whipped cream.

Then the next day I decided to weigh myself, just on one of those whims, and realized that eating whipped cream isn’t a good idea.  It was a whim based on having recently put on a dress I’d worn last summer and thinking that it had shrunk terribly over the winter.  However the problem wasn’t actually shrinkage, but expansion on my part as the scale happily showed.

As you know, I’m fanatical about gym attendance, and go five times a week.  I also go up and down and up and down to the lower vegetable garden dozens of times a day.  A normal person would’ve installed automatic drip sprinklers there, but I guess my subconscious wanted me to sweat hard.

And in spite of all that physical exercise, if I have one or two lapses in judgment, wham! two or three pounds get added to my cellulite-filled midriff.  Life can be so cruel.  And then I have to suffer the indignity of looking at the photos of the beautiful Duchess of Cambridge and her sylph-like, pencil-thin silhouette.

Like my apartment when I attended university, I have the whole place clean and tidy.  When I went to UBC in Vancouver, and whenever I’d have a paper due or a test for which to study, I’d procrastinate by cleaning.  Nothing much has changed, as I now look at the fruitcake ingredients, and think, now I’m finally ready.

But wait!  First I had to try on everything in my closet, just to see if there are things I can give away.  I now need two full closets to hold everything, so it’s good to pare down whenever possible.  Several hours later I felt happy to have a small pile for the Salvation Army.  By then it was much too late to start on fruitcake prep, so shrugged and thought, ‘manana.’

I just got home from two heady hours at Value Village’s 50% off sale.  I had three large bags crammed with stuff, all for a total of $55.00.  I actually forgot to get groceries because I was in such a hurry to get home to look at everything.  Things look so different once examined in the cold light of home.

Thanks to the Internet, I no longer have to wonder about the provenance of the things I buy.  I googled a jacket I’d bought for $5, and found it was made by a company called Finn Kariela, which appears to be based in Europe.  I got a sweet necklace for $3 which still had local potter and jewelery maker Betty Gordon’s tag on it from a craft sale.

I got three pairs of sandals, because at $5 per pair, it seemed silly not to.  One of the cutest things I got was a 100% silk scarf by Bill Blass for $1.  It’s always hard to go wrong with vintage Bill Blass.  But then I did go wrong with a top I threw into my cart impulsively, and which doesn’t fit.  Oh well, $3.50 wasted.

But the thing is, at the big sale the line-up for fitting rooms is ridiculously long.  So I just went in looking for things that didn’t need to be tried on in a dressing room.  It was just a wild hunch on the top, and a wrong one.  It’s funny, but I’m always sure I’m a lot smaller than I really am.  But then I always think I’m 18 too, so there’s another misperception.

Luke decided two weeks was enough for a holiday, so headed back to Alberta on Sunday.  That meant on Saturday night I made the traditional pot roast, mashed potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, gravy, salad and vegetable dinner.  Luke asked for chocolate mousse, which I gladly made for dessert.

I’m totally bloated after the visit, as the house was filled with all manner of poisonous foods.  I don’t know if you’ve ever seen these, but the kids managed to find giant marshmallows, called Campfire Marshmallows.  Each one is the size of your freaking hand!  Of course I ate one and instantly felt my insides say no.

Yesterday as I cat-napped while reading the Globe and Mail, a vague thought began in the back of my mind.  As I regained consciousness, I thought, I wonder how I’m going to get 3,000 fruitcakes made between now and Christmas.  And you know something?  The terrible realization came upon me that I have to start now or I’ll never be ready.

Most people find it odd that one would make fruitcake in the spring or summer.  But as I can only make about 400 a month, ideally I need 7.5 months to get it done at a humane pace.  And if you’ve been reading this blog for the past several years, you pretty well know what’s going to happen as the weeks tick by.

Which is precisely why I need second-hand shopping; it calms my nerves.  I hope I’m calm enough to start soon, though, because I’m going to use my past sales at Potters Nursery at the Coast to flog my product to Art Knapps.  If they decide to carry my fruitcakes, perhaps they’ll sell like vintage Bill Blass.