That amusing incident last week with Nicky, a rag, the toilet, and a plumber ended up costing $712.  You would’ve been proud of me, though.  I simply wrote out the cheque as though I’m handed bills like that on a daily basis.  Because after all, one needs a toilet that works, so it’s pointless to go mental at these moments.

The week improved somewhat after that.  My potato salad was such a raging success with Minister Bond and Denis’ co-workers that I was asked to produce another one for their big day in Penticton on Tuesday.  Once again, Denis brought home the huge, gleaming, empty stainless steel bowl and said the entire salad had been polished off with glee.

While Luke was home I cooked like a camp cook at an oil rig.  Huge steaming plates of spaghetti and meat sauce were consumed, along with vats of chocolate mousse.  I made Yorkshore puddings, mashed potatoes made with butter and creamo, and boats of gravy to accompany a gigantic pot roast.

Luke left with some reluctance this morning, and said he wouldn’t likely be back home until Christmas.  I doubt that.  I didn’t want to point this out, but since he left for Alberta in January, I believe he’s been home pretty steadily every two months.  Not that one begrudges the visits from one’s child, of course, it’s just that it seems quite frequent to me.

And now the time has finally come for me to devote myself to the production of fruitcakes.  I bought a ton of product, and need to spend the afternoon getting the kitchen organized.  Then tomorrow, all by my brave little self, I’m going to start early in the morning and produce delectable baked goods like a pastry chef at Oprah’s on a Saturday night.

And I serioulsy must start to make some decent money because unfortunately that shopping genie’s grabbed a hold of me again and it’s been quite mischievous.  Would you believe, I was at The Bay four days in a row, thanks to their 50%, take ANOTHER 50% off, sale.

I got two pairs of lovely jeans, regular $100 for $25.  I nearly went mad.  Once I’d bought those I was just like Barbara Amiel and my extravagance knew no bounds.  Of course for her, that means Tiffany’s, but for me, I was luxuriating in the wares at The Bay.

After all the buying came the purging.  I filled two black garbage bags with old clothes that either no longer fit, or let’s face it, I hate them.  So off they went to the Salvation Army Thrift Store for someone like me to find.  It felt really good, actually, because I realized I’m never going to wear those clothes, so why am I keeping them?

I believe with the 15 pairs of pants and 18 tops I should be able to scrape something up for the daily jaunt to the gym.  It’s funny because to bake I put on a ratty pair of leggings and a grease-stained T shirt.  Why I continue to purchase clothes is a topic for Dr. Freud’s couch.

Denis has always had a rather unorthodox manner of doing things, and the way he’s packing is in keeping with that.  The other day he said he’d bought a ‘container’ for his tools.  I paid no attention whatsoever.  Then a couple of days ago I heard the beep beep beep of a dangerously large truck trying to back its way up our steep driveway.

I looked out and saw a rust-coloured, God knows how long, metal shipping container with the large letters HYUNDAI painted across the sides.  When the machine unloaded it, the container landed with a thud so loud it shook the entire house.  It’s now sitting squarely across the lower part of the yard.

Denis plans to fill this up with his stuff, and then have the man return and pick it up and move it into the yard at Oxford Street where Denis plans to live.  I hesitantly asked him if perhaps the neighbours there, it being such a suburban area of Kelowna and all, might not object to something like that in their line of sight.

Denis just said piffle to all of that, and is busy buying lumber and building some kind of weird interior.  I’m watching all of it with an odd sense of detachment, knowing that in a few weeks my yard is going to be pristine for the first time in 20 years.  But who knows, maybe I’ll grow nostalgic and ask the kids to put the shell of a vehicle up on blocks for me outside the garage.

To help Denis look like a hero at work I told him I’d make huge potato and Greek salads for him for a barbecue today with Shirley Bond, the Minister of Transportation and Infrastructure.  So last night in preparation I boiled and peeled a bunch of eggs and put them into the fridge.

Naturally when I went to get the eggs this morning half of them had been eaten.  Did I mention that Luke’s home for a couple of weeks?  In preparation I went straight to Costco last week and got a box each of Taquitos and spanakopitas.  Showing some restraint, Luke said he was on a diet so declined my offer to make him some chocolate chip cookies.

I certainly didn’t decline any of the delicious morsels of food offered to me by the caterers at our friends Mark and Gitte’s 25th wedding anniversary party last Saturday.  They live in a beautiful house right at the base of Grouse Mountain in North Vancouver.  A full bar complete with a bartender were set up in the dining room, and all evening we were served platter after platter of fancy snacks.

The delicacies and sophistication of that evening seem far away as I sit here waiting for the plumber to plumb our toilet.  Upon querying each of the children last night, Nicky said he threw a bucket of water he’d used to clean the basement floor into the toilet, and ‘perhaps’ the cloth had still been in the bucket.

What can one do after 24 solid years of child-rearing but walk straight to the cupboard and get out the Tequila and Cointreau and mix a Margarita?  After all, one of these days all of these stories are going to seem very, very funny, right?

 You know that old saying, “I cried because I had no shoes, and then I met a man who had no feet?”  This morning I was comparing myself to the prisoners of Guantanamo Bay.  That’s because I’ve been held down and visited by people for almost the entire summer.

Then I heard the news about the trapped miners in Chile and felt silly.  They could be trapped in a small space for four months, whereas I’m only trapped inside my house for a few weeks.  It’s very important to try to get some perspective on our lives sometimes.

My cousin Heilke is still here from Germany, and on Sunday Alison, one of my oldest and dearest friends, arrived from Toronto.  As it was Denis and my 25th wedding anniversary on Tuesday the 24th, we all went out for dinner, Nicky included.

However, it wasn’t your usual anniversary dinner, in that Denis and I have taken a somewhat different approach by deciding that we’ve reached the end of our time together.  It was so adorable at our wedding, as the Marriage Commissioner didn’t use the words, “’til death us do part” but, “for as long as your time together.”

And now, our time together is up.  So I’ll have to figure out some challenging things, such as how to get the cover off the smoke alarm and God forbid, how to shovel snow off the driveway.  You may be thinking that Nicky, being six foot two and 21 years of age, might be able to help.  However, I’ve lived with him long enough to know that it’s not likely going to happen.

And so what does one do in trying times?  Shop, of course.  Alison took me out to one of those insane high-end lingerie shops and forced me to spend $150 on one bra and one pair of underpants.  I felt dizzy at the till, but she stood her ground while I got out the debit card and swiped.  A bead of sweat formed on my brow as I saw the total and hit the OK button.

The purchase was somewhat balanced out by the purchase of a $10.00 bra by Joe Fresh, the Superstore’s own brand.  Plus I shouldn’t kvetch because Alison also gave me a beautiful pencil skirt that she bought and never wore.  And really, when you consider how much good new items do for the psyche, you can’t put a price tag on it.

By September 1st I’ll be free of visitors, and should hopefully to God be able to focus on the fruitcake business.  As you know, Urban Fare in Vancouver and Potters in Surrey have placed orders already, so I guess it may be time to consider baking.  Or not.

I received an e mail from my cousin Heilke in Germany a couple of weeks ago saying she decided she was coming to Canada for a visit.  She arrived on Friday, August 13th, so I had to drive to Vancouver to get her at the airport.  Heilke arrived in pretty good shape from the nine-hour flight and we proceeded to drive to my brother Freddie’s in Maple Ridge.

On our way we stopped at a cute market that sells Cloverdale honey, and of course being the inveterate shopper, I decided I needed a jar of it.  In fact, this has pretty much been the case since I’ve begun showing Canada to Heilke.  I end up in these cute stores and I decide I need some of that stuff for myself!

My brother lives right by the cute and tiny Alouette River, which is quite a change from where he used to live on the much bigger Pitt River.  He and his wife Wendy used to rent a tiny house there, which was actually the caretaker’s house for the rock quarry.  They’d paid $75 a month rent for the past 35 years!

The four of us spent a pleasant evening sitting outside, my brother and I trying our best with our German, while Heilke had to think hard after a long flight to find English vocabulary.  In any case, we managed to hammer out our thoughts and ideas pretty well.

Heilke and I drove home to Kelowna on Saturday, and arrived to the usual stinking heat of the Okanagan in August.  She was prepared for it, as her parents and other relatives have visited here, and they know what it’s like in the summer.  We laughed over the perception of most people in the world that Canada is a land of ice and snow.

On Sunday we did some nice touristy things, and strolled along the walkway in front of the Delta Grand Hotel.  Then we drove to Summerhill Winery and visted the goat cheese farm on Lakeshore Road, too.  It’s at the edge of the forest fire that occurred in 2003, so it’s an interesting area for people to see.  It kind of looks like what’s depicted in movies after a nuclear war.

Monday was Nicky’s 21st birthday, so we drove to Penticton to meet mom and Gerry for lunch.  After lunch we drove to Naramata, because Nicky and his girlfriend had never seen it, and it’s just such an adorable town.  If you’re ever in the Okanagan, you must drive down there to see it.

As you can imagine, with the watering and so on, entertaining a guest does add an extra little thing in a person’s day.  However, I find it best to just surrender to these types of things, as fighting them and fretting over them doesn’t make them in the least bit easier.  Better to just head to that tourist site and adopt a positive attitude about it.

And of course that nasty haze is back from the forest fires burning all over B.C.  I hope it won’t put a damper on our our sight seeing, as today we’re off to Fintry and then O’Keefe Ranch.  As you may know, Germans are simply nuts for cowboys and Indians.

I think it’s finally safe for me to announce it, but I believe Luke is launched into the world!  You know how nowadays offspring like to tease their parents by leaving home briefly, returning, then leaving again, only to return?  They do this until the parents no longer believe good-bye means anything other than see you next week.

However, Luke now has his own company, and does directional drilling work all over Alberta and Saskatchewan.  Sometimes I ask him how it works, and he tries to explain it to me.  But as I’m unable to do a task such as record messages on my phone, I certainly don’t understand his highly technical job.  All I know for sure is that it involves a computer, and that he makes decent money.

He and Dan (aka The Boarder) have bought a house together in Sylvan Lake, Alberta.  Luke already has one of those stupidly large pick-up trucks and a dirt bike.  Now he wants a boat and a snow mobile.  I said to my mom next he’ll own a rifle and have a moose head mounted on his living room wall.

All I can say is I tried my best to raise the kid as a decent left-leaning, animal-loving environmentalist.  Where did I go wrong?  He went to French Immersion and took piano lessons, for God’s sake!  Something about Alberta and the stench of oil money has changed my baby.

Now I only need to concentrate on getting the second kid launched and all will be well.  However that’s probably easier said than done as Nicky has always been a tougher personality type to deal with than Luke.  When there was some type of bad news to be delivered, Denis and I would do rock, paper and scissors to see who’d have to be the one to tell him.  Nicky’s philosophy was always to shoot the messenger.

I had an interesting call last week from a nice woman in Alberta.  She’s having a wedding anniversary party, and ordered 250 pieces of Totally Decadent Fruitcake.  She wanted them made with no brandy, which I’ve done for her, but I’ve yet to cut them to see if it even works without booze.  I know I don’t work well without booze, so I assume my cakes carry the same philosophy.

As always at this time of year I’m making tons of apricot jam.  It’s really the only jam anyone likes to eat, so I give it as gifts.  I also need it at Christmas for the Spitzbubchen (granny’s cookies).  Sadly there are fewer and fewer apricot trees left in the Okanagan Valley because they’re such a finicky fruit to grow.

All the vegetables are late this year.  We’re finally starting to get ripe tomatoes from the garden and there’s local corn.  The other night I made sauteed yellow zucchini and tomatoes, topped with handfuls of my chopped herbs.  I accompanied that with tiny potatoes, boiled, then browned in butter, and wild coho salmon, baked in the oven with a bit of brown sugar and butter.

When Nicky came to get his dinner and saw it was all so beautiful and from around here to boot, he said enthusiastically, “Now that’s a legitimate dinner!”

You’ll  recall I was contacted by the managing director of Potters, the nursery chain in Surrey.  I sent him a sample of my fruitcakes, and a few days later received an e mail from him with the subject line: “Wow!”  It seems I have another convert as he said he’s definitely going to be placing an order.

I was recently asked by Sarah Lindsay who owns Sweet Art Cakes here in Kelowna to make a six inch round Totally Decadent fruitcake for a wedding.   As I made it yesterday, I realized it’s really time for me to get moving with the business in general.  Whenever I have to do something I do it, but it seems my intrinsic motivation is lacking if I don’t have a specific goal.

However, as I’m going to be schmoozing around with the Lions Club to get orders from them, and as I add new stores, I really do need to get moving with baking.  I know I’ve vowed many times in the past not to wait until I’m near admittance to the psych ward to begin baking.  Let’s see if 2010 is my year to stop the insane procrastinating.

I guess that’s why I’m not as mad at Nicky as I probably should be.  He had one job interview in April, didn’t get the job, and then decided it’s far better to wait until cherry season and get a seasonal job sorting cherries.  He said he could work daily for a few weeks and make the money he needs.

While waiting for cherry season Nicky whiled away his time at the gym, riding the scooter Luke bought, and going to the beach with his girlfriend.  Finally last week the day arrived cherry season was starting, so at 8:00 AM off he went on the scooter to Dendy’s Orchards behind us.

He arrived home at 8:00 PM madder than a wet hen.  He said they were still sorting, but he simply couldn’t stand it any longer and left.  After ranting and raving about the horrible nature of the job, he stated that there was no way he would be returning to that.

Sigh.  Then on top of it he said his girlfriend and her roommates were being visited by a cat that was completely matted.  I said it was cruel to the cat, and that it needed to be shaved.  They phoned a vet, and got a quote of around $120.  I stupidly said I’d pitch in $20 as it’s not even their cat.

Two days later I was told the cat had been shaved, and was duly hosed for my $20.  The next day Nicky informed me the cat had crossed the road, and been killed!  Here I am buying clothes at Value Village, and then having to pony up $20 for a strange caat, only to find out it was all for naught.

I got an e mail from my cousin Heilke, who Nicky and I had visited last year when we were in Germany.  She decided she’s coming for two weeks, starting August 13th.  Unfortunately, we’re living in Nuclear Winter here in the Okanagan Valley from the trapped smoke from surrounding forest fires.

When North Americans are in Europe they want to see ancient cathedrals and castles, and when Europeans are here they want to see wide open spaces.  Wouldn’t you know that she’s coming right in the midst of this annoying new summer trend?

I’ve had a week filled with business promise and social engagements.  A nice man who owns Potters Nurseries in Surrey phoned me to say they’re thinking about carrying my fruitcakes.  Apparently they have four locations, and do a big business at Christmas.  I’ve sent him a promo package, so will be keeping my fingers crossed that he likes my product.

Margaret arrived on Sunday and left on Friday morning, so I tried my best to make a decent dinner for her every night.  I started with barbecued steak, the next day followed by chicken souvlakis and Greek salad.  I made scallops and shrimp in a white wine sauce and salmon stuffed with handfuls of herbs from my garden.

When she left on Friday morning she said the same thing as Bev the previous week: “I feel so relaxed; just like I’ve spent a week at a high-end spa.”  Both of them spent hours reading books from my library while sitting out in my flower garden in the sun.  One day I’m simply going to have to treat myself like a guest around here.

Because I was on my way to Osoyoos on the weekend, I contacted my stores, and can you believe four of them ordered!  That’s about $450 worth of sales just from taking one minute to contact them and ask a simple question.  I delivered fruitcakes on my way south, feeling smug at my diligence.

On Saturday at 12:30 I met four of the women I’ve been friends with since elementary school days.  That made a turn-out of five out of eight, which isn’t bad for our group on short notice.  We met for lunch at the Watermark Resort in Osoyoos and sat outside, enjoying the beautiful Okanagan weather.

When we get together, it’s always as though no time’s gone by, because we’re very comfortable with each other.  Strangely, we all arrive dressed and made-up to the nines, as though we always run around that way.  It’s probably good to have a group like that.  Without standards to maintain one can fall into disrepair rather quickly at our age.

On Saturday evening mom and I attended a Pfingsttag family reunion in Oliver.  My maternal grandmother was born a Pfingsttag, so these are my mom’s cousins and my second cousins.  Because mom’s an only child, she’s always kept in fairly good contact with her cousins, which is fabulous.

The reunion was held at my mom’s cousin Inge and her husband Fred’s house.  They have a large rancher with a big pool, and it was filled with kids of all ages.  On the barbecue there was a large portion of a pig, and some beef as well.  Inside on the tables there was a spread of cold salmon and salads that would easily feed a wedding of 200 guests.

Unfortunately, it was 30 degrees out so I immediately downed a nice cold Bacardi cooler, and then thought I’d better get a grip on myself.  I had a couple of glasses of wine, and then ate as much as I humanly could.  There was carrot cake at the end that was completely unnecessary, but I had that, too.  Aren’t family reunions great?

Gerry, mom’s 95-year-old boyfriend, had a yen for Atlantic lobsters.  So he and mom decided to have them flown in by Purolator for my annual birthday party.  I’d told people about their plans, and while my friend Bev was here she and I were in the Superstore.  She said, “There’s a whole tank full of lobsters right there.”  To which I replied, “So what?  Gerry wants his own delivered from the Maritimes to Osoyoos.”

There were 20 live lobsters and 15 guests.  We each ate one, but one of the guests actually managed to eat two of them.  I was thankful that Jerralynn, who was doing the cooking, said she kills them prior to dropping them into the pot of boiling water.  I really couldn’t stand the thought otherwise.

We ate outside and it was a lovely night.  The dachshunds raced around, making me totally nervous because in the dark a black dog four inches high is very hard to see.  Nicky kept assuring me that the dogs wouldn’t run away, but I’m always neurotically focused on them and where they are.

Margaret’s here for a week so tomorrow I’ll be back in Osoyoos once again because she loves seeing South Okanagan wineries and having lunch with mom and Gerry.  I told her there’s a ton of Jerralynn’s delicious leftover baked goods from the party waiting for us, too.

Once again, as a result of my monthly newsletter, I got some orders.  I also spoke with Don, the nice man from the Lions, and he said he liked my fruitcake, and wants me to present to their club at their next meeting.  If I can wow them at the meeting, then I’m sure they’ll want to sell my fruitcakes at Christmas.  I’m finding the idea of being a provider of a fund-raising item quite intriguing.

Less intriguing is the surprise visit I got last week from the new health inspector.  I saw a young gal come into the yard, and thought she must be a friend of Nicky’s.  Wrong.  She’s the health inspector!  She was super nice, though, and just said I’m due for an inspection.

You’re reading this going, “so what?”  I, however, will have to work like a frightened idiot for days to get the entire area all spiffed and 100% ready for the inspection.  If you knew how much other stuff I have to do right now you’d actually feel sorry for me and come and help me organize.

Then to top it off, when Margaret arrived yesterday afternoon I asked her if she wanted to try a new Margarita recipe.  I made us a couple of insanely stiff drinks, mostly tequila and Cointreau and a bit of lime and lemon juice.  After we had those, we had white wine.  Finally, I said, “Let’s have Kahlua and cream!”  So I’m sorry to say when I woke up this morning I felt like a recently thawed corpse.

Too bad for me, as I’ve had to spend the hot day watering, sitting at the hairdresser’s feeling like death, and generally working around the house in a clammy sweat.  Oh well, tomorrow’s bound to be a much better day.

You may recall that in December of last year I took samples to a man named Don, a member of the Lions Club.  The Lions sell fruitcakes as a fundraiser, and I’ve tasted theirs and thought, “Oh dear.”  I told Don I was hoping the Lions would sell my fruitcakes instead, and told him I’d contact him in the New Year.

I’ve since sent him two pithy e mails requesting his opinion on whether or not the Lions want to sell my fruitcakes.  Since I hadn’t heard, I thought they probably didn’t want them.  Imagine how thrilled I was to come home to a message from Don asking me to call him!

As I can’t imagine he’d go to all the trouble of phoning to say ‘no thanks’, I’m quite hopeful as I wait for him to reply to my message.  It’d be really great as they’d have a finite number that they’d order, so one wouldn’t receive a nervous breakdown wondering how many they were suddenly going to need during the season.

I’m thinking it’s just a fabulously lucky time of year for me, as tomorrow is my 56th birthday.  You know how every seven years we apparently go through major changes?  My 56th year on Earth seems to be taking off with a huge amount of promise, and as ever, I’m ga ga with excitement over life.

I just spent four magical days in Vancouver at the Coast Plaza Hotel on Comox Street.  I had a room on the 34th floor, looking out over the harbour and towards UBC.  It’s a great hotel because you’re right at the edge of Stanley Park so you can walk for hours.

I noticed in the restaurants that goat cheese is still the ubiquitous ingredient on every salad and pizza, and in every sauce.  Many of you are saying, “So what? I love goat cheese,” however, some of us do not.  I just can’t eat a product that has the same smell as the coat of the animal.

I’m not sure why, but I went to Winners while on my trip and bought a dress.  Who knew?  But that’s what I always say about the beauty of shopping.  It’s like hunting.  You never know what you’re going to bag.

Today it’s back to the usual routine.  I’m going up and down to the vegetable garden every ten minutes moving the sprinkler.  Then I move the two upper hoses around.  I was a bit dismayed to see that most of the broccoli died while I was away.  But then I thought, that’s what the fruit and vegetable market around the corner is for.

So now I have to think positive thoughts as I wait for Don to let me know if I’ll have the Lions Club as a customer.  As you know, they’re all over BC, so this could turn into something interesting.  Like I said, my 56th year is starting out with some decent potential.

There’s nothing like speaking to others as a great way to mine important pieces of information.  I pity the fool who remains quiet and alone, not communicating with anyone, because they’re never going to learn anything.  Thank God I’m the opposite, and like to speak to everyone around me.

As a result, I know most of the women at the gym by name.  We’re like a living history of how the popularity of names change.  For instance, there’s a woman in her 70’s named Doreen, women my age who are named Kathy or Lorraine, then those in their 30’s named Candace or Jana.

The little gals in their 20’s are all Brittneys and Ashleighs, of course.  I suppose those coming next will have the unfortunate names of Serenity and Midnight.  I know I’m showing my age, but I have to say this recent fetish of naming kids after common nouns has really thrown me.

Anyway, you may recall me waxing poetic some time ago about how wonderful it would be to have bee hives.  Imagine my surprise when I was chatting away to a nice woman at the gym named Lorraine, and it turns out she’s a beekeeper!  She said she was an elementary school teacher for ten years, but is now involved in the honey business.

I told her I’d like a hive, as I live on an acre of land, and she said, “You could have 20 hives!”  I think I may just start small, though.  I asked her about swarming, and she said swarming was wonderful and everyone loves it.  I’d read a swarm can be dangerous, but she said piffle to all of that.

So now my dream may indeed come true, and I’m going to have my very own bees!  It’s strange, yet wonderful how the Law of Attraction works, isn’t it?  You imagine something, plan on it, envision it with joy, and voila!  Bee hive!

No similar luck with the N’Kmip project, however, despite hard envisioning.  I delivered fruitcakes to Terwilligers and the VQA Wine Centre in Penticton last week, so toddled down to Osoyoos to try again at N’Kmip.  I’ve now been three times, and so far, they still don’t carry my product.  However, look at my success in conjuring up the bees!  One day I’ll be in their market.

Marilyn and I baked again last Tuesday, and it seemed less gruelling than the previous Sunday.  In total, we made around 335 fruitcakes, which I then vacuum sealed while watching Dr. Oz followed by Dr. Phil.  I must say having a TV in my kitchen has made life quite a lot more pleasant because I now learn as I work.