Tag Archive | thrift-stores

Spooky Mild Winter

Feb7

Not to complain about the lack of snow and the 7 degree C daily temperatures, but it is a bit fear-inducing when you’ve lived through a forest fire-filled summer season, and therefore know what awaits us come July. Unless we get an awful lot of rain in spring we’re doomed to endure choking smoke all summer.

But the good news is the hens are enjoying the balmy weather so much they’re laying as though it’s summer. Even Condoleezza the black hen, who hasn’t laid an egg in at least six months, has started to produce again. There usually is a silver lining somewhere. Plus, of course not shoveling snow is a huge perk.

Next Friday Margaret and I are off to the Yucatan and Belize so I’m ga ga with excitement. Belize has the second largest reef after Australia so the snorkeling should be excellent. We’re taking carry-on luggage as we have to use public transport quite a bit on this trip so don’t want to lug huge suitcases on the bus. It’s a fun challenge to see how little one can pack and still live.

We’re so fussy we usually take our own coffee and French press, but due to space restrictions I said to Margaret I’ll bring the coffee, but we’ll have to cope with a drip machine in the Airbnb’s. Our first stop will be at a grocery store to get tequila, limes and canned milk. Strangely, there is no cream in Mexico. We learned the term leche evaporate and are good with that.

I’ve completed the probate forms and am now waiting for the Wills Search document so I can get everything notarized and filed. The paperwork looks like it was designed to frighten off ordinary humans but compared to the building permit nightmare for Mom’s property, probate was almost friendly. If the will is straightforward, I’d honestly say skip the lawyer and DIY—it mostly requires patience, persistence, and a very cooperative printer.

So, with that behind me I can concentrate on cleaning mom’s house up and getting it ready for sale. The beach front that goes with it, and where we have a very private deck and little bar, should help it sell. The property has never been for sale before as dad bought it for $200 in 1930 or 1931. It’s sad to say goodbye to it but I live too far away and I’m not leaving Hall Road.

Not that Kelowna’s anything to write home about but I adore my property and this neighbourhood. I’m a seven-minute drive from several thrift stores, and I don’t think anyone can beat that. People ask would you move to Osoyoos, and I reply no, there are no thrift stores there. Easy.

Old Gilles the garden handyman is actually willing to stay here with the pets so that’s a big help as I go on my holiday. Calvin works, plus he lives downstairs, so the dogs get too lonely if left with just friends dropping in to visit them in the day. This way there’ll be someone hanging with them all day and then all night, too. I can enjoy Mexico and Belize with a clear mind.

But one interesting thing about this winter is the shockingly cold arctic front in the East has also messed with Belize where the weather was unseasonably cold. It’d be horrible to leave an unnaturally warm northern climate to arrive at a strangely cold one in the south, but this could happen. I have to be prepared for anything including snorkeling in a jacket.

The Year of the Fire Horse, anything and everything could happen.

Mom’s Quite the Handful

May29

One thing I do not do is run into the house when I hear the phone ringing and I’m out working in the garden. I don’t like talking on the phone as it is, but when I’m interrupted by something like “Did you just phone me?” asked by a 100-year-old, it gets maddening. As you may recall, Luke installed a Tapo camera in Mom’s living area, so I can see the phone ringing when I call her. Her phone then says, “M. Schiller” a few times as it’s ringing. So then I ask mom, did the phone say it was me? No? Then no, I didn’t call you.

And if it was just useless questions being asked constantly, it’d be fine, but Mom’s crabby streak has caused her nighttime caregiver to give notice, so now Jan’s going to take over sleeping there. Poor Jan. She’s the least favourite person on mom’s list. I guess everyone has a burden to bear when caring for a centenarian.

Margaret came for the long weekend, and we went down to Osoyoos to party around with Luke and Jan, and of course Mom. Though cranky, she easily drinks her .5 litre of wine and eats her two Ritter Sport chocolate bars a night. Margaret’s not used to our lifestyle and was hungover the first day but then got with the program and managed to hold her own and still feel okay the second day.

I was raised to loathe and fear teetotallers, so drinking is just what Schillers do. Growing up, people who didn’t drink were spoken of as the world’s stupidest bores, so who wouldn’t want to drink for God’s sake? I believe the secret to it is keeping it to a dull roar to avoid damage.

Sunny and Julie and their families came for brunch, as did Denis so there were 14 of us. At the last minute Mom decided she was too sick and went to bed for a couple of hours. Then came out and seemed fine. I made a particularly delicious breakfast casserole, made with croissants instead of bread. Everyone seemed to like all of it, plus fruit salad, ambrosia salad, pound cake and marshmallow and chocolate squares.

It was nice to get back home, and Margaret and I had time for a couple of hours of thrift store shopping on Tuesday before she flew home. Then two days later Elsa and I returned for more treasure hunting, and I felt fab finding a Fossil handbag for $10. So much better than the several hundred the original owner paid.

And on Sunday, June 1, I will have lived in this lovely house for 35 years! Isn’t that great? And due to the awful thrift store hobby, I can’t move, so this is it until I’m hauled out feet first. Watching Mom age is certainly scary, and I can see it takes a lot of courage to get that old, but I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I get to it. If I do, right?  Putin could take us out with a nuclear bomb tomorrow.

Hence my philosophy of not worrying, which I try to employ even though it can be difficult. When I was in Germany, I learned so much by staying with dear Hannelore, mom’s cousin who is 92. We spent every morning and evening talking about all manner of things, and one thing she stressed was not trying to predict the future and to just let it all come upon you.

And when you think of it, there’s nothing we can do except try our best to remind ourselves how fortunate we are. My problems are small: broody hens, a centenarian, clutter, an insatiable appetite for trashy YouTube videos and incurable evening snacking.  Okay, add vodka and there you have it.

Back to the Old Routine

May16

Holidaying in April may seem like a good idea, however if one gardens like a lunatic, it’s not an ideal time to be away. Nonetheless I’ve managed to get myself out into the yard most days, weeding and planting like there’s no tomorrow. It’s a tad on the cold side so I’m leaving the tomatoes and cucumber plants in the greenhouse for now, but I want to get my sainted dahlias into the ground.

Elsa and I went to thrift to hunt for treasures and amazed ourselves with the volume we managed to haul home. I also visited mom in Osoyoos and brought her chocolate from Germany, which she appreciated, given her penchant for it. She’s still getting half a litre of wine and a couple of chocolate bars down a day.

Then there’s the work on my memoir of the fruitcake biz, which I’d hoped to have ready for the public by this month, but alas, it wasn’t to be. I felt discouraged about it all, then out of the blue got a lovely e mail from Sharon Thesen, a published writer for God’s sake, who wrote about my little book Okay, I’ll Bite, “I love the book, what a service you have done to mankind by writing it.  Maybe especially womankind.  It’s so encouraging and witty, and life-loving and smart.”

Can you imagine what that does to a person? Now I have the motivation to return to my memoir and get it polished and ready for a late fall release. Why? Because a friend of mine who’s also a writer pointed out that a book about fruitcake would do well coming out at Christmas. Brilliant, right? Plus, now I can relax about it and enjoy the final editing process, as if that could be possible.

Then there’s the usual baking and cooking that I do both for the purpose of it being eaten, but also for therapy. If nervous, I start to bake. It was Gilles the garden handyman’s birthday, so I made my famous chocolate chunk torte for him, and he loved it. I made crème brulee for Marie and me for our Mother’s Day lunch and gave the leftovers to Calvin and Visini who wolfed it down with cries of joy.

I like to spend Mother’s Day with Marie, as she also experiences a challenging relationship with her daughter, as I do with my younger child, and so we give each other joke gifts. Last year I gave her a mug that said World’s Best Mom and this year she gave me a hilarious T shirt which says Rocking the Mom Thing. We both adore sardonic wit.

In keeping with usual routines, yesterday the Crones and I met at the Eldorado for Happy Hour which was pleasant as it was warm enough to sit outside. Not satisfied with the amount of liquor I’d imbibed there, when I got home, I made myself a nice guava juice and vodka cocktail. After that I thought what a great idea to do some laundry.

I’d already done the wash, and so it just needed to be thrown into the dryer. Sadly, my arm caught the large bottle of liquid Tide, which splashed onto the open dryer door, getting everywhere. For a moment I wondered what it all meant, do you start again and wash? Or ignore it and dry? I went upstairs and decided this was a problem best solved in the morning.

This morning it was solved with a lot of paper and regular towels, and as it turned out the stuff inside the dryer wasn’t soaked in Tide so I was able to just dry it. It all reminded me of growing up and hearing “you’re a bull in a China shop” from my mom, which then of course exacerbated the bullishness.