I know how frightening it is to check for my new blog on a Sunday and not find it.  However, yesterday Marilyn and I were slugging it out, baking as many fruitcakes as we could.  I can only describe the experience as similar to deciding to push your car home, rather than driving it.

To make Okanagan Harvest cakes, I have to have all the bags of fruit ready to go.  I start by shopping for the fruit and nuts, and get cases of apples, pears, and apricots.  Then I have to go to a different store for the butter, eggs, flour and sugar, and finally the licquor store for brandy and rum.

The pears and apples have to be chopped into small pieces, and I do this by hand with shears.  The apricots can be chopped in the food processor.  Then I measure the fruit, cook it briefly with apple juice, and put it into plastic bags.  After that, I have to put sheets of almonds into the oven to gently brown them.

When Marilyn comes, we use the prepared fruit and nuts, but still have to make the dough, and also chop the two kinds of chocolate.  The pans have to be sprayed, and the older ones lined in parchment as well.  Once we get going, we’re like automatons.  We fill pans, put them into the oven, make more dough, remove baked cakes, and stack them on the baking racks.

Once cool, the cakes are de-panned, poked with a skewer, and soaked with rum.  They’re then placed into plastic bags, which are then vacuum-sealed.  Later on, these go into my little white boxes, onto which I’ve stuck the front and back labels.  Did I mention the cleaning of the pans and kitchen at the end of the baking day?

You know what I said to Marilyn?  I just love it when people tell me the fruitcakes are too expensive.  One day some poor fool’s going to tell me the product is too expensive, and a few seconds later they’re going to be walking away with a black eye.  Why I ever wanted to get into the artisan food business I will never know.

A nice woman from The Bay e mailed me a couple of weeks ago and inquired about my fruitcakes.  I e mailed back to ask her if she was thinking of ordering tens of thousands, but she replied that she was thinking of trying only 50 – 100 in a few stores.

I sent her my information sheet, and in reply she sent me The Bay’s forms for food suppliers.  I laughed when I looked through the pages and pages of information they wanted, including insane stuff like, “% moisture content.”  I e mailed back with a pithy message:  Look, I’m an artisan baker, and have no clue what the moisture content is, or any of that other stuff!

Of course getting into The Bay would push the value of the company up exponentially, but certainly at the expense of the proprietor’s sanity.  I know you’ll want to have me committed anyway for my lack of vision, but to me, it’s just not worth it!

When Margaret was here earlier this month, and I was dropping her off for her talk on social media, she said she was a bit nervous.  I said, “Just pray for the Muse of Public Speaking to descend upon you.”  I’ve often told people that I ask for various muses to descend upon me, and when they ask what happens, I can honestly reply, “They usually do.”

So, when I prayed for the Muse of Motivation to descend upon me this week, it (or perhaps she) mercifully did.  I finally took inventory of how much baking supplies I have on hand, and realized I don’t have enough tins.  I vaguely recall throwing away a hundred or so in December, but Step 2 – re-ordering, had alluded me.

So much better to know all of this now, before Marilyn comes barreling up the driveway, ready to bake.  Besides quickly ordering more tins, I placed a large order at the bulk foods store, and have asked for new labels to be designed for the Totally Decadent Fruitcakes.  Once I have those, all my labels will hopefully be done.

You can imagine the amount of coercion required to get me to do that, so off to the clothing stores I went.  I started at the sainted Bay, where I surprised myself entirely by buying a bathing suit.  Where that came from, I have no idea!  As it was 30% off, I immediately spent the money I’d saved at my favourite consignment store.  I bought a pair of adorable Liz Claiborne pants and floral-printed Susan Bristol shift.

Unfortunately, as with all addicts, opening the door a tiny bit is a complete mistake.  The next day I went to my second-favourite consignment store, and as they had 50% off all shoes, I bought a to-die-for pair of pink sandals.  On the shelf they had the most gorgeous bag, and the woman said it was a Gucci, and was around $350.

She said, “Would you like to hold it?”  I, being much cagier than the saleslady, declined.  I said, “If I go to the SPCA to look at kittens I don’t hold them, either.”  When I got home I told Nicky and his girlfriend about the great bag.  Taya said her mother (an antiques dealer) found a Gucci purse at a garage sale for $10.  The owner said she’d paid $3,000.

Taya said it was in a ‘weird’ colour of yellow, and the lining was dirty, so though her mother had given it to her, she never used it.  I said, “You give me that bag right away.”  And she said she would!  I’ll keep you posted on that, for sure.

Since early March the Muse of Dieting has remained, and I think this has added a new dimension to shopping.  Now I say to myself that I ‘need’ this or that item, and so you can imagine the predicament I’m now in.  I ‘need’ new clothes, and I want motivation to bake, so the hunger is insatiable.

However, as long as the muses keep me shopping for baking supplies, ordering new labels, and marketing to stores, then I guess that’s just the price one has to pay.

I’m as rigid as a piece of chalk, so change is something I avoid at all costs.  Same thing with surprises.  So it was quite astonishing that I actually did something very spontaneous, and dropped everything to attend the Celebrity Wine Festival in Osoyoos over the weekend.

I was minding my own business on Thursday when I was called by my friend Marie.  She said a friend had won tickets in a contest to this event, and couldn’t go.  I told her that I’m not much of a fan of these types of things, but she said I simply had to accompany her.

We left on Friday morning, arriving at my mom’s at noon for lunch.  When I had said to Marie, “You’ll meet my 85-year-old mom and her 95-year-old boyfriend” she said she thought she was going to be meeting typical geriatrics.  However, after a few minutes, Marie said she was just crazy for mom and Gerry, because they’re both so adorable.

We then headed to town to the Watermark Resort, where we had a large two-bedroom suite, all courtesy of the contest.  We went down to the pool, and lounged for a while before getting ready for the first event, a so-called ‘beach party.’

The organizers had cleverly arranged for free shuttle buses to the events, so we hopped onto the bus at 6:00 PM, and were soon joined by a group of women.  They immediately asked us if we were media, to which we replied that we were just ordinary schlubs.

However, these women were from Savour Magazine, which I’ve been trying to get into!  Guess what?  The editor wants to talk to me about getting into their fall issue!  It was just so lucky to be on that bus at that time.

The first event was a total snooze, involving standing and trying various wines while eating tiny bits of food.  We had to google Jason Priestley on Marie’s Ipad to see what the celebrity looked like, and once we spotted him we felt we had fulfilled our obligation.

On Saturday we had tickets to the gala dinner at Spirit Ridge, the huge N’Kmip Indian band’s winery and resort.  Tickets for this event sold for $250 each!

We had five courses of food, paired with so much wine that Marie and I started to get behind with our pairings.  Eventually, I had to just fob some of it off on the nice couple from Edmonton at our table.

Needless to say, I awoke this morning feeling like a small subway train had run over my head.  Marie had to drive my car back to Kelowna, with me reclined in the passenger seat.  With the excellent contact I made at Savour Magazine, I figure it was all worthwhile.

Doesn’t it seem like yesterday when Luke was home?  You may recall me saying I was cooking and cleaning like a lunatic, and it feels like it was just two minutes ago.  Yet, it was actually two months ago, and he’s home once again!  Not that I begrudge my beloved child a visit, but honestly.

This morning a made a dozen trips up and down the stairs, retrieving half-full cans of beer, a partially eaten package of Camembert, tipped Slurpee cups, and bowls caked with God knows what.  When Luke comes home, he arrives very hungry.  I guess that’s what home is for, so I have to stop being so resistant to it all.

My friend and sister-in-law, Margaret, was also here because she was giving a talk on social media.  She said she uses me as a test case, and as I’m too dumb to know almost everything she mentions, she said she knows people in ‘my demographic,’ ie old, need her help.

As you may recall, she’s the one who talked me into doing the monthly newsletter and to get onto Twitter and Facebook.  I love her newest idea for my business, which is to make videos and put them on my site.  Wouldn’t that be hilarious?  People everywhere could see me driving off, Ricky perched on my neck.

But seriously, Margaret said I could be filmed making various recipes, which could be helpful to some people.  She admitted that even though my recipes involve only four or five steps, they’re too complicated for her.  I often like to tease her about things like that, but then she reminds me that she has 2,000 followers on Twitter, so I shut up.

So, I guess that shows you that what one person considers the height of idiocy, such as not knowing how Twitter can help you in business, or conversely, not being able to produce Yorkshire puddings, is highly individual.  I asked Luke if he knew how to zip e mails, and he looked at me as though I was asking him if he knew how to count to three.

Mercifully, Luke and Michelle left for a trip to Vegas today, and won’t return until Wednesday.  That means I have a few days where I can work my way through piles of debris and that’ll hopefully enable me to clear my mind enough to do some more marketing.  I still haven’t called N’Kmip to see if they want to carry my product!

I e mailed Marilyn and asked her if she’d be able to help me bake a bit.  I know I had previously decided I could work away at baking on my own.  But surprise!  I haven’t done one damn bit of baking, so obviously I need to have Marilyn driving up to the house at an appointed time and date.  However, I see this problem-solving ability as just another sign of intelligence, however small.

As you’ll recall, five weeks ago I placed a gun to my head and forced myself to go to a bunch of wineries and gift stores.  As a result, I have 10 stores in the Okanagan carrying Okanagan Harvest Cake right now.  So on Friday, I decided it was time to re-visit these stores, and to drop in on another few.

My new philosophy of marketing involves a lot more direct contact with the customer.  I know I’m supposed to be tweeting and using social media to build business, but I’m just too stupid.  However, I’m skilled at speaking the English language, and so find that the personal touch is probably the better route for me.

On this trip I made some great connections.  One of them was with the owner of SummerlandSweets/Sleeping Giant Fruit Winery.  They always rent a kiosk in Orchard Park Mall for the Christmas season.  In conversation, I mentioned that I’d love to have my fruitcakes at their kiosk, and the owner said they’d definitely consider it!

Then I dropped samples and promotional materials at my other stores, and did a sales pitch at Hester Creek Winery in Oliver and the new market at the N’Kmip complex in Osoyoos.  Both would be fabulous, so I’ll phone next week and hope that they want to give the product a whirl.

I made a sale at Tin Horn Creek Winery and Handworks Gallery in Oliver, and the Bench in Penticton had only three fruitcakes left.  So you can see that the product is starting to move, and I’m very hopeful that it becomes known as a great souvenir from the Okanagan as well as wonderful to eat with a bottle of wine.

On Monday I want to return to the stores here in Kelowna, and I want to market to a new winery as well.  Sadly, this selling has precipitated a need for baking.  Where’s that gun?  I now haven’t baked since December, and feel completely unable to do so.  Isn’t the cottage food industry great?

I suppose it’s just as well, as keeping myself occupied should keep me away from the whipping cream filled meringues that I long to eat.  Margaret’s coming this week for a couple of nights, so I’ll make some gourmet meals for her.  I just hope I can keep a grip on myself with the desserts.

Because really, do you want a fruitcake salesperson coming to you who weighs a couple of hundred pounds?  I think not.  I believe one of the great secrets of selling a product whose calorie count exceeds Jennifer Hudson’s total daily allowance is to make it appear as though it’s completely low-cal.

I had lunch with three of the members of our special group.  You know the one – the eight of us have known each other since elementary school, and we’ve celebrated turning 40, then 50 together.  With four of us managing to meet for the lunch, it constituted an impressive 50% turnout for the group.

At the lunch I asked Phyllis how she manages to stay so thin, and she said she doesn’t eat after dinner.  I’ve pondered that idea many times in my life, however it just doesn’t work.  So now I’ve found a compromise, which is to keep low-cal snacks in the house, and attempt to talk myself out of eating the bad stuff.

You’re thinking, why does she keep any bad stuff at all?  However, I can easily make bad stuff out of a loaf of bread, a pound of butter and a mixture of cinnamon and sugar.  I’d have to move to North Korea in order to truly be able to keep bad foods out of my house.

I may have mentioned a time or two in the past that I felt like quitting the fruitcake business.  This past week was another one of those times, when I half-heartedly thought I’d better do something for the business, and then wondered why I should bother.

Then the usual happened.  On Friday, I received a lovely e mail from Esther, the owner of Handworks Gallery in Oliver, saying she was running low on stock and needed to re-order!  I was giddy with excitement, and thankfully forgot all about abandoning the torture chamber known as the artisan food business.

Armed with this motivation, I’m going to do another marketing trip south on Friday.  I’ll re-visit the ten stores in the Okanagan currently carrying my product.  I’ve had new signs made for the Okanagan Harvest Cake, and bought adorable tupperware containers for samples.  That way I’ll be assured of a good quality sample going to the customer.

I sent my May newsletter out last week, and got a nice inquiry from Dawn, one of my favourite customers and a faithful reader.  She was confused about one part of the Yorkshire pudding recipe. I have to say, nothing makes me happier than when I hear from fruitcake customers, especially when they enjoy my newsletter, too.

So to expand my writing horizons, I’ve finally bitten the bullet and will be starting to record mom’s life story this Saturday.  Then once I’ve typed the hours and hours of information into my laptop, I can begin to write.  I have a strong suspicion that I’ll need all of the bread, butter, cinnamon and sugar in the house in order to pull off this project.

The beauty of genetics is its concreteness.  I mean, how else to explain why I have quirks similar to my father’s?  My dad liked to use his favourite spoon and fork, and it drove my mom crazy.  Now I find myself hiding my favourite mug in the back of the cupboard so the apes living around here won’t get their clumsy mitts on it.

However, my dad was a true eccentric, whereas I only dabble in it.  For example, after he’d had a stroke he would still drive into the town of Osoyoos.  There he’d be observed slowly dragging himself, and then his walker, out of the car.  It became more and more alarming for the townsfolk, as he became somewhat of a menace on the road.

He had his driver’s license taken away, but being ingenious, he decided it didn’t mean he couldn’t get into town.  Dad simply dragged himself onto his tractor and drove it into town.  Technicalities were no obstacle for him.

I guess that’s why I’m puzzled at people’s reactions to some of the things I do.  Some people looked shocked when I tell them that the dogs sleep under the covers.  I’m surprised they don’t know that’s what dachshunds like.  And who would deny a dog something that’s part of their very nature?

Some people find my habit of running around in my underwear in the summer strange.  No-one can see me here, and I’m certainly not about to put on an uncomfortable bathing suit.  I find shorts and a top make unsightly tan lines, so what does everyone expect me to do?

That my eccentricities should actually hit the newspaper was a bit of a surprise.  On Friday I was browsing the local paper, The Capital News.  I came upon a column about bad drivers in Kelowna, and as I’m always stunned by the driving I witness, I began to read it.  The writer started out by talking about the idiots who continue to talk on cell phones, even though it’s now against the law.

Then, near the end he added, “A few weeks ago, I saw a woman drive by using her small dog as a headrest.  The dog was wedged between her neck and the actual headrest, looking out the window.”  I thought to myself, that can only be one person: Me!

Isn’t that funny?  There I was, minding my own business, driving along with Ricky sitting behind my neck, and I was being observed by a newspaper columnist!  And as my dad would’ve explained, “That’s what the dog likes to do.  You try and stop him.”

I showed the article to the gym instructor, and she said it would be hard for her 150 pound wolfhound to sit on the back of her neck.  I’m sure I detected a note of sadness in her voice as she said that, because let’s face it, who wouldn’t want their precious dog draped about them like a fancy stole?

It’s been a fun week of cooking.  First of all, I made one of my special lunches for my pal Liz and her mom, Liza.  I started with a roasted yam soup, which I didn’t really like, but they both said they did.  We then had chicken salad, made with toasted almond slices and seedless green grapes.  For dessert I made meringue, and topped it with raspberries in syrup and whipped cream.

Today I’m heading down to Osoyoos with a cooler full of food for lunch and dinner.  I tried a new bakery, called Woodfire Bakery, and we’ll eat and review their stuff today.  Being German, we’re nuts for those large pretzels, which are coated in coarse salt.  I bought some of those, as well as a beautiful-looking ‘Munich rye’, so we’ll give it a try.

I’ve been making Bacardi Rum Cake for about 35 years now, and have grown tired of using the standard yellow cake mix.  So, yesterday I made a traditional pound cake (one pound of butter) and forced a mickey of rum into it.  We’ll also try that today and I’ll let you know if that works as a substitute for the packaged mixes.

My brother Freddie, his wife Wendy, as well as mom, Gerry and I will be having a small Mother’s Day celebration.  Nicky seemed relieved when I asked him if he minded that I wouldn’t be here.  Not that he wouldn’t want to do something, but at that age kids are always glad to be left alone.

Unfortunately, I can’t leave Nicky alone right now, as I want him to get busy and find a summer job.  He’s very persnickety about the types of jobs he’ll apply for, and so far only applied at the City and the Regional District, as they pay decently.  To my surprise, he was called in for a job interview with the Regional District.

I have to admit, I pretty much thought it would be a slam-dunk for him to get it.  His friend, Jordan, had the job before him, and Nicky had cleverly mentioned in his cover letter that he was Jordan’s friend.  He therefore whistled as he drove off to the interview.

An hour after arriving home, however, he received a call saying he didn’t get the job.  He was crushed, and has remained in the basement ever since.  This was over one week ago, and I’m asking him daily, “So, how’s the job hunt going?”  He either replies with, “Fine” or “Obviously, as I’m just sitting here, it’s not going well.”

Sigh.  So what better way to take one’s mind off small annoyances than cooking?  I’ve made a pan of cabbage rolls for our dinner in Osoyoos, and have made some devilled eggs to accompany the lunch.  I call it “Freddie’s lunch.”  He and his wife have eaten like this for forty years.  It involves cheese and cold cuts, bread and some eggs.  For fun, I threw in a pack of those nice Campari tomatoes.

For my own Mom’s Day celebration, I spent a few hours over the past days purchasing seeds and bedding plants, and puttering around inside my sanity-restoring greenhouse.  I’d recommend it to anyone who wants to enter a tiny, perfect little cocoon, all nice and warm and filled with colour.  Now that’s what I call the perfect way to find Zen.

My mom was so right when she advised me it’s always best to start shopping by doing so in one’s own closet.  Yesterday I had idely browsed through Winners and my favourite consignment store, and then came home and decided maybe I’d better see what in the world I actually have before adding to it.

I spent several hours trying things on, rather than just looking at them, and I was able to get rid of quite a bit of it.  As much of it had already come from previous owners, it was probably high time.

I went through the 40 tops, 25 pairs of pants, 30 pairs of shoes, multitude of dresses and skirts, and made concrete decisions about each of them.  As usual, I was quite surprised at the number of accidental pairings I found.  Who knew that lime-coloured top was perect with that print skirt.

Some discarded items came with the usual “what was I thinking?” but other things were – hang onto yourself – too big!  Yes, I have finally shed some of my insulating layer of blubber, and have gone from beluga to manatee.  Or, to put it less scientifically, from Kirstie Alley to Joy Behar.

And speaking of Joy Behar, don’t you just love her show?  I love Larry King’s show, too, and over the years have lamented his slow slide into senility.  Though it’s always very funny when guests have to correct Larry, and as much as I enjoy the times his make-up people have sprayed the top of his white hair orange, I was afraid no-one would be able to replace him.

Then along came Joy Behar’s show, and I realized I’m going to be okay.  Now Larry can truly and properly forget the details of his guests’ stories, and I’ll feel fine about it knowing that Joy will be there to fill the void.  Let’s face it – it’s only a matter of time before Larry’s going to have to retire.

So, the giddiness of finding a Larry King replacement coupled with the recent weight loss has helped balance the annoyance of some store manager’s attitudes.  As you’ll recall, last week I’d marketed around the south Okanagan, and sold quite a few Okanagan Harvest Cakes.  However, some places took samples and said they’d think about it.

When I called some of these places back, they had the nerve to say, “no thanks.”  I, being the practiced Fuller Brush Salesman, replied with a pithy, “no problem!” while secretly seething.  That’s got to be hard on the immune system.

These incidents show why it’s important to have a mom to whom you can tell these stories.  My mom instantly disparaged these people’s attitudes, and said they’re just plain naive and don’t know a good thing when it’s presented to them.  I had to agree, because as we all know, mother knows best.

Happy Mother’s Day for next Sunday to all moms out there!

Remember Jack Nicholson’s famous line from A Few Good Men, “You can’t handle the truth”? These were the words I kept foremost in my mind as I did my big Marketing Week.  I decided that Okanagan Harvest Cake and Okanagan Fruit and Rum bars are NOT fruitcake.  So, I kept the dreaded F word right out of the conversation.

And what a successful and fantastic week it was!  I started here in Kelowna, and now my product is in St. Hubertus Winery as well as the gift shop in the lobby of the Grand Hotel, called Grand Snax.

I then proceeded south, and my first stop was the adorable Summerland Sweets store.  Imagine my joy as Karen, the owner, ordered a dozen of each!  Just like the proper Fuller Brush salesman, I had product in the car, so raced out and filled the order right there.

After that, I was just pumped with confidence, and went to the beautiful winery called Dirty Laundry.  You must go if you’ve never been.  They make three different kinds of Gewurztraminer, and as my Summer Serving Suggestion card recommends Gewurz with the cake, it was a natural fit.

I went far afield in either direction, first all the way to Therapy Winery in Naramata, then all the way to See Ya Later Ranch in Okanagan Falls.  In between, I met the wonderful women at Terwilligers gift shop in Penticton.  They were thrilled to see me, as the owner had heard of me from Monika, the artisan baker at Okanagan Grocery.

So after that heady greeting, I was bouyed to try the gift shop in Oliver called Handworks Gallery.  Ta da!  I’m in that store, too.  The toughtest town of all, though, remains my hometown of Osoyoos.  I left a sample with the N’Kmip restaurant, and am hoping they’ll okay the product for their new little upscale store.  It’d be perfect in there.

Once in Osoyoos at mom’s, I had the opportunity to coat my toes in bandages.  I had to look decent for the sales pitches, so was wearing my summer slides, and had forgotten the painful blisters they invoke.

The next day I drove off for more marketing, and upon leaving the Penticton VQA Wine store, was bemused to see that my bandages had come loose, and were flapping like giant false eyelashes over my toes as I walked.

Positive thoughts and vibes are a good way to start attracting good things to yourself, but you always have to do that last little thing – act.  By simply putting new labels on my boxes, loading the car, making a list of places to see, and then driving off and making myself walk into stores, I was able to make almost $1,000 worth of sales in a week!

I learned what any decent snake oil salesman knows, and that is you don’t upset the customer with abrupt language, such as the word ‘fruitcake’, which shocks the sensibilities.  No, I just kept the F word out of it entirely, and as you can see, things went very smoothly.