I woke up exactly at 7 this morning realizing that it’s exactly 7 months today that I arrived in my exact location of 1470 Ethel Street. 

Guess I’m feeling lucky. The number 7 is a heavy hitter in the gambling world – slot machines often offer three 7’s as the big payout. Then there’s James Bond as 007, the 7th-inning stretch, 7 seas, 7 continents, 7 dwarfs, 7 deadly sins, 7 brides for 7 brothers, 7 colors in a rainbow, 7 spots on a ladybug, 7 notes on a musical scale, and 7 days of the week. You get my drift.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe I’m in 7^th heaven living with Elaine? We have 7 grandchildren. We watched all 7 games (Go Royals!) of the 2014 World Series. We have a wood baseball bat signed by Mickey Mantle – he wore #7.

 

 

 

Before I take a swig of my 7-Up or venture into a 7-Eleven – here are 7 things I’ve learned (so far) about living in the four-seasons playground of Kelowna:

 

 

 

Volunteering at the Food Bank and Shoe Bank has been, metaphorically speaking, money in the bank. These not-for-profits have helped me establish community roots, make more than 7 friends, and secure work references. I’ve put in the hours and helped make a difference for needy families. It’s empowering. Even more powerful – executives from both charities have provided assurance that they will go to bat for me when I’m active in the job market. I’m lovin’ it.

 

 

Winters in the Okanagan Valley aren’t so bad. Sure, we had one December snow-mageddon that unleashed 18 inches onto downtown streets. It was one of those global-warming flukes of nature. Overall, it’s been cold and gray and more manageable than the Obamacare website. No complaints from this immigrant. There’s no truth to the rumor that Kelowna only has 7 snow plows?!

 

 

The price of cheese and dairy udderly makes me lactose intolerant. There’s no truth to the rumor that Kelowna only has 7 cows?! Just seems that way. Elaine wants to make homemade pizza. I say hold the pepperoni. For the price of one bag of shredded cheese – we could almost bake two frozen pies. A Cheese Czar is needed because local dairymen must be grilled.

 

 

The price of real estate is real expensive. There’s definitely truth to the rumor that I’m not in Kansas (well, actually Lee’s Summit, Missouri) anymore. The British Columbia dirt all looks the same, but the structures on top are mortgage vacuums. Took us 7 seconds to figure out that a townhouse is more likely in our future than a single-family dwelling. Then there’s this extra “strata” cost added in. BC stands for Beaucoup Capitalneeded.

 

 

Government representatives are super accessible. Locally speaking, I’ve enjoyed meeting with and blogging about our Member of Parliament (MP) Ron Cannan and Mayor Colin Basran. These sessions did not have the implications of a G7 Summit, but each political leader gave me and Elaine an hour of their time. No need to go through 7 layers of bureaucracy to get our questions answered. Try doing that with Harry Reid or Mitch McConnell.

 

 

I need a bike. Elaine and I want to gear into “walk-or-bike-to-everything-possible” mode. It’s doable in certain parts of the city. As a kid, Schwinn was the pedal-pusher of choice. Nowadays, not sure what’s popular or practical? Then there’s the helmet issue. Maybe I can find a $77 two-wheeler at a spring-cleaning garage sale?

 

 

 

I need a J-O-B. First, the Open Work Permit. Second, “you’re hired.” Gotta be in that order. Gotta create my own luck. The encouraging news on the OWP front is that Elaine’s co-worker, Chris the IT expert, texted late last week that his Costa Rican girlfriend received her Permit in the mail. No e-mail alert or fanfare. Just showed up in her Canada Post mailbox. She filed about 7 weeks ahead of me. Maybe the Easter Bunny will deliver mine?! I’d prefer St. Patrick.