23rd November, 2006
Drum Roll, Please
by
The other day I was remembering the sheer terror of the weekly assemblies we had at our school. That would be the renowned Osoyoos Elementary Junior Secondary School, so-named because it housed all grades from one to ten.
I was in the percussion section of the band, and played snare drums. At these weekly assemblies, the entire school would rise to sing Oh Canada. However, preceding it, the band teacher, Mr. Storwick, would throw a threatening index finger my way. “The point” signified it was time for the drum roll. This had to be executed perfectly, so the night before I would be sick with terror.
And here it is, just four weeks until it’s all over, and I will know how the fruitcake business went. It’s as though Old Man Storwick is pointing his long finger at me, and I’m dry-mouthed, praying I don’t make a total ass out of myself.
This Sunday, Renee Blackstone, the Food Editor for the Province newspaper is going to mention my fruitcakes. Then, they’ll be mentioned on December 6th by Eric Akis, a food writer for the Victoria Times Colonist. This should help spur sales a bit in the Lower Mainland and on the Island.
One is always like a bit of stuff stuck to the bottom of the locals’ shoes, though, so I will have to make it big outside of the Okanagan to be recognized here. So be it. A dear small publication called Okanagan Woman has brought me a lot of sales here in Kelowna, though. Thanks to an article plus my ad every couple of weeks to drive the message home: Fruitcakes must be bought now.
As usual, the family assists in taking my mind off of my business with their whiney, “when’s dinner?” Tonight the four of us will tuck into pork chops which I have slow-cooked with savoury, thyme, garlic, onions and whipping cream. These will be accompanied by a delightful potato dish, which I now make with a gourmet mustard I got while at Meinhardt’s in Vancouver. The mustard is called Red Raspberry-Wasabi, and is made in Texas of all places.
The mindful family, not wanting me to be overly stressed by the business, find that as well as dinner requests, laundry keeps me pretty occupied, too. When Luke arrived home, he shrugged, “I haven’t done laundry in a very long time,” and dumped the mountain of it in the laundry room.
Naturally, they like to help even further by never cleaning anything, so when I vacuum they smile knowing they’re keeping the old babe’s stress level way down. How can she even fret about fruitcake when there’s so much happy housework to be done?
And so if you will, Mr. Storwick, point your finger in my direction, and I’m ready to roll the drums on Christmas Season 2006 ——