Carbaholics rejoice: the slider

It is no secret that I enjoy carbs. Actually, I would class myself as a carbaholic. I do love my bread, especially English muffins with peanut butter, occasionally topped with a sprinkling of chocolate chips. (I am also a chocoholic as well). And it looks like darling daughter is following in my footsteps as she will constantly say "bun, bun" or "toast, toast" when we are eating dinner. She wants either the bun we are eating or a piece of bread.

I don't usually blog about products but I'd be lax in mentioning to any fellow carbaholics out there about a new product by President's Choice. The company recently launched its new product slider thins, which are mini-burger buns. Although I'd be all about mini-burgers if I wasn't watching my red meat intake these days, these slider thins are ingenious. They are a wonderful for toddlers. Not too big, and not too small. Just perfect for little hands. When darling daughter is saying "bun, bun" or "toast, toast" I usually give her a slider. I bought this bag on Friday and as you can see, we only have four left. They've been a hit.

They are also perfect for adults in helping fulfill their carb cravings. Two buns are 110 calories. Top one bun with your choice of cream cheese, along with a side of fruit, and you are good to go.

Run like you stole something

Photo taken at the start of the 5k Ottawa Race Weekend race.

After countless hours of training, it came down to this: Ottawa Race Weekend. In February when I initially set my goal to run the 5k Ottawa Race Weekend race, I didn't know exactly what I was getting myself into. Over the last three and a half months, I've started from running blocks of four minutes and one minute walking on the treadmill, to struggling to run outside to eventually building up the endurance to run 9k in the hot, hot sun. And the ironic thing about this whole experience is that I have come to love running. Running was something I avoided. I couldn't do it, I told myself. I have bad knees. People like me don't run.

I now love running. I love the challenge. I love pushing my body and my mind. I love that I can get the frustrations of the day out of my system by pounding the pavement. I love the moment where I finish a run. It is all very addicting.

Yesterday was my 5k race. It was an incredible experience to be a part of such a large race. I ran it with my friend, S. The sea of people was overwhelming, but exhilarating. About 7,500 people crossed the finish line. And they all had their individual reasons for running.

To come out of the starting gate, running on Elgin Street, up towards the National War Memorial, cutting across to Colonel By Drive and running under the Mackenzie King Bridge, seeing hundreds of people lined up along the bridge and stairway, cheering us on is a vivid memory I'll have for a long time.

After passing underneath the Mackenzie King Bridge, my memory gets a bit hazy. Perhaps it was the heat and the sun. Perhaps it was the fact we were running a tad too fast in some sections. But I'll always remember the spectators. When turning onto the final leg of the race, before reaching the water station at the 4k mark, one woman held up a sign that said, run like you stole something. At that point I was trying to eek out every step I possibly could and to have people cheering me on helped. I have found it incredibly hard to run in the afternoons in recent weeks. The heat has really kicked my butt, so I knew I'd likely not break my personal best time of 32 minutes that I set in April.

The water station was refreshing and I must give kudos to the man who accidentally flung his water cup at me, hitting me in the back. Although he felt bad, I felt refreshed. At that point things got tough. Both me and S agree that the markers counting down to the finish line were more of a deterrence. Despite getting a high-five from a woman spectator, I soon had to stop for a walking break at the 400 meter mark. Not even Kayne West's Stronger could keep me going for the next 400 meters without a small break. After walking 150 meter walking break, we picked up the pace and ran across the finish line.

While I'm now kicking my butt that I took the walking break, at the time I needed to listen to my body. When I across the finish line, a woman to my right was throwing up and another woman to my left had passed out. And as S correctly pointed out, walking those 150 meters wasn't that big of a deal and even if we had ran that distance, our finishing time wouldn't have been drastically different.

So today I rest, and bask in the glow of my victory of participating in Race Weekend and finishing a race in 34:06.02. Not bad. In all honestly, 34 minutes is my usual finishing time for 5k these days. And considering the fact that I only started running in mid-February, this is a pretty good finishing time.

I'll keep on running. I have a 10k race in mid-June I now have to focus on. After that, who knows where running will take me. But I do know something: if I can run, you can run too. See you at next year at Race Weekend.

Yes, I can. And you can too!

Walking into the Aberdeen Pavilion at Lansdowne Park this afternoon, a high energy vibe washed over me. And no wonder as hundreds of runners were picking up their race kits in anticipation of Ottawa Race Weekend, which starts Saturday. The vibe only got stronger once I picked up my own race kit. And it became intensified when I spotted John Stanton at the Running Room kiosk.

Stanton is the founder of the Running Room. Although I don't participate in the Running Room practice run nights, I find both its staff and magazine to be inspirational and helpful. Last week when I bought my water belt, I asked a million questions to the Running Room staffer, who patiently answered them. She shared her own experiences, including what it was like to run a marathon the weekend before. She encouraged me sign up for a half marathon in September. While I still have to sign up, her words of encouragement and support have stayed with me.

Ironically enough, last night before bed I found myself flipping through the Running Room Magazine. I find this magazine hugely inspirational because it is filled with stories of real people and their running experiences. I came across an feature advertising Stanton's latest book. The feature had a small blurb about Stanton's humble roots as a runner. When he was first starting out, he was walking and running before dawn in hopes his neighbours wouldn't see an out of shape, overweight soon-to-be athlete hit the pavement. Since entering his first race nearly 30 years ago, he has complete hundreds of race events and founded a company that has helped more than 700,000 people get to the finish line.

His is such an inspirational story. And who can't relate to it? I know I can.

So while I was browsing through the race merchandise, I spotted the man himself. After trying on a race shirt and debating if I should introduce myself, I swallowed my shyness and walked over to him. After quickly introducing myself, I blabbered on how much I love his magazine and his inspirational story. Stanton smiled, agreed with me and thanked me for my kind words. It may sound silly, but meeting a man who has encouraged so many people to run has been the highlight, so far, of Race Weekend.

The high energy vibe that picked up while I was in Aberdeen Pavilion hasn't left me. I hope it stays with me long enough to carrying me over the finish line tomorrow afternoon. Stanton tells people that they are an athlete and they can run, even if they believe otherwise. From personal experience, I know this is true. I never thought I could run. I have proven to myself that I can. And if I can do it, anyone can do it. I'll see you on the race course.

Sand + water = mess

On Sunday, dear husband assembled darling daughter's sand and water table in the backyard. She loves it. And since she was introduced to her new play station, she has been asking to make "castles" all week. I'm not too sure where she heard the word castle as both me and dear husband can't remember saying the word to her.

Although making sand castles is fun work, it is also dirty, messy work, which results in a bath at the end of playtime. I'm not a fan of messes. A floor filled with scattered toys I can handle. I can not handle mud messes. The last two afternoons I've distracted her from her "castle" making work by taking her on errands as it was too hot and sticky to play outside. With the cooler weather, she finally got down to some serious castle making work this afternoon. And of course she needed a bath afterwards. It was her second bath of the day as she was filthy after a morning of playing at the park.

I know I have to get over my aversion to dirt and messes, but I absolutely can't stand sticky sand, especially mixed with sun screen. It's gritty. It's dirty. And it gets everywhere. Thank God for my Dyson. It has been working overtime this last week trying to keep up with the influx of sand ending up on my floors.

So until I get over my sandy mess aversion, our little blue bath tub (which is a whole different story) will also be working overtime this summer. Turning the sand and water table strictly into a sand table isn't an option because darling daughter loves playing with water.

Gotta run . . . update number eight

Race Weekend is in five days and I'm ready.

I've got my fingers crossed that the sweltering weather passes through Ottawa in the next day two and it will be manageable to run Saturday afternoon. This heat and humidity is killing me. On Sunday, me and C, my running coach and friend, ran around a section of the Rideau Canal. Same 9k route. Just hotter. And we even started a half an hour earlier in hopes we'd escape the heat. Although the clouds co-operated for a bit and starved the sun away for awhile, the sun eventually came out, making it unbearably hot. After our run, I had to walk to the grocery store and buy a carton of orange juice to replenish my electrolytes. While water quenched my thirst, I felt woozy. I may have looked unladylike drinking straight out of a carton of orange juice while slowly walking across the parking lot, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Plus, it beats from passing out in the parking lot.

The last two nights I've ran, but only shorter distances. (Both times were 3k runs). I've had to push back my runs to 7:45 p.m. to compensate the weather. And I've also had to postpone any hill running until after Saturday. Raising my endorphin levels so close to bedtime has really screwed up my sleep in recent nights. So here's hoping the weather co-operates for Saturday. The prospect of running in hot, sweltering heat isn't all that appealing.

Good luck to everyone running on the weekend!

Word of the day: poopie

It has been a poopie morning. Literally.

I've changed four poopie diapers before 1 p.m. Two in the span of 20 minutes. One at a playdate and again one after lunch. This is clearly my penance for not changing a single diaper all long weekend long. (Dear husband is on diaper patrol during the weekends). Darling daughter has reached the age where she will tell me if she's got a poopie diaper by saying, "poopie, poopie" over again until we head upstairs to rectify the situation. Last night, I could hear her say, "poopie, poopie" in her sleep. (I did change her. No poopie diaper. I guess she decided to wait until morning to do her business.)

We aren't yet at the potty training stage. She's sat on the potty. Can say the word potty. Can indicate when she has peed and pooped, but she isn't in the active potty training stage. She isn't exactly ready. She'll get there. I'm in no hurry.

So today must be a record for dirty diapers. Can't remember the last time we've had four sizable poopie diapers in one morning. Obviously the cheese she has been eating in recent days hasn't bound her up. Hopefully the afternoon will be poop-free. If not, hopefully she can hold off until 5 p.m. when dear husband comes home. I've already reached my poop limit.

Searching for a saline solution

The instruction pamphlet makes it looks so easy. Lay child on his or her back. Tilt head. Insert applicator into the upper nostril, parallel to nose. Press applicator. Repeat for other nostril. Gently wipe nose when done.

In reality this is how it goes: grab squirmy child as she back away from you. Try to coax her to lay down. Watch child scream and cry. Try to insert applicator into nostril. Squirt either yourself or child with a strong spray of saline solution in the eye or face. Repeat. Cuddle crying child when done.

So far, this has been our experience with saline nasal spray. Yesterday, I took darling daughter to the doctor's as her cough and runny nose returned. Last time she had these symptoms, she was diagnosed with an ear infection and I was a bit concerned the infection had returned. According to the doctor, her runny nose is due to fluid in the ears. The cough is related to the runny nose. He suggested we administer a saline solution spray to help move out the mucus in her nose. What he failed to say was, good luck with that.

Administering the spray is a two person job. One to do the actual spraying and the other to be kicked at when trying to hold darling daughter steady. She'll actually back away from us when she sees us holding the spray bottle. Both me and dear husband know from experience that nasal irrigation does work. We both regularly use a neti pot. But I can understand where darling daughter is coming from as it took me months and several times viewing a YouTube tutorial before I gathered up the courage to stick a little teapot up my nose to drain away my troubles.

So we will continue in our quest of nasal irrigation. We both have our fingers crossed that darling daughter will see that this is helpful to her and makes her feel better. But we doubt that she'll see reason. So in the meantime, we expected to be kicked and cried at, along with getting an eyeful of saline solution, for the very foreseeable future.

Falling in love with Ravelry

This week I finally updated my Ravelry account. Ravelry is a free online resource site and database for knitters and crocheters. I've been a member of Ravelry since February 2009. But until this week, I wasn't a big fan. While my friend and fellow knitter, K, speaks highly of the site, for whatever reason, I couldn't be bothered.

A couple of weeks ago, I spent hours sorting through my yarn and needle stash, trying to organize yarn, needles and patterns. In the last year, I've taken photos of most of my completed knitting patterns and posted them on Facebook. But Ravelry is the perfect place to showcase your finished projects. Not only are you showing off your wonderful creations, you are also adding them to the database, which provides valuable insight for fellow knitters about patterns and the workability of yarn. By adding your projects to the database, I think you are also adding to the general creativeness of not only the site, but for fellow knitters. I may see one pattern one way, but another knitter may see it in a different way. It is very cool to see the varying results of your favourite hat pattern. Looking at completed projects and patterns have inspired me to knit more.

Over the last two days, I've updated my projects. I've added hats and sweaters I've knitted in recently months. It is a good way to keep track of what needles I've used as well as materials.

Not that I basically broken my Facebook addiction and live in a Facebook bubble (no news feed at all since I've blocked my friend's status updates) I have the time to devote to Ravelry. While one may argue I'm replacing one addiction with another, I'm inspired by Ravelry to become a better knitter. So for those who are Ravelry, happy knitting. And those who aren't, consider becoming a member. It's free. You'll become inspired, if not a bit addicted. I promise. You can find me under the handle yarnitmomma.

The hats featured in the photo are hats I designed and knitted for a friend's twin girls.

Trying to turn over a greener leaf

I'll let you on a dirty secret of mine: until recently, I didn't use reusable bags.

I know it isn't very green of me to admit this, but I couldn't be bothered. Sure, I had a huge reusable bag filled with reusable bags in my coat closet, but there they sat, unused. Need a plastic bag, ma'am? Yes, was always my reply.

Regardless of paying for the privilege of carrying plastic bags from the grocery store, I just couldn't be bothered to grab the reusable bags from my closet. I'd forget. Also, plastic grocery bags do come in handy. I use them as kitchen catchers and liners in garbage bins. Can't exactly use reusable bags for that task.

And even if I had reusable bags in my car, I'd usually forget to bring them into the store with me. They aren't much use when you are at the checkout with a cart full of groceries.

About a month ago while I was at Reitmans I came across this reusable bag. For $3, it is kind of pricey for a reusable bag considering they are 99 cents at the grocery store. However, the bag conveniently folds up into a tiny pouch and easily stores inside my purse. I think it was $3 well spent. Since my little purchase, I can't tell you how many times I've been asked if I need a bag, I dig it out and voila! I have saved five cents as well as a plastic bag.

Slowly, I'm starting to remember to bring my reusable grocery bags to the grocery store. It is a work in progress, but I must say this little bag is helping me to turn over a greener leaf.

Gotta run . . . update number seven

When I was huffing and puffing while running in the hot sun yesterday morning, a verse from Dr. Seuss's classic book One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish suddenly popped into my head.

. . . They run for fun

in the hot, hot sun.

Oh me! Oh my!

Oh me! Oh my!

What a lot

of funny things go by.

Even before I took the first step, I knew the run would be challenging. Me and my friend and running coach, C, decided to embark on a 9k run along the Rideau Canal in the sun. As a runner, the sun is not my friend. I like overcast, cool weather to run in, not sunny and hot weather. Thank God for the occasional shady path and cool breeze.

And we weren't the only ones who were running in the hot, hot sun. Several groups of Running Room runners huffed and puffed as they passed us, running in the opposite direction. At least I didn't feel like I was alone in my suffering.

About 6k into our run, I had to stop for a walking break. I had enough. Screw running slowly, my body screamed at me. I need to walk! It was a bit disappointing. However, the last time I ran 9k straight, it was about 10 degrees Celsius and overcast, not 22 degrees and sunny.

But even in my gloom, there was a sunny spot in my run. Despite a five to 10 minute walking break, I finished the run in 1 hour and three minutes. My previous 9k time (technically it was 9.2k) was 1 hour and five minutes. Despite the sun, I was running at a faster pace. After making it back to the car and downing a full bottle of water, I came away with a couple of lessons: I can run in sun. I can keep pace in the sun. It gets hot at 9 a.m. And I really need a water belt. But the question remains: who likes to run in the hot, hot sun for fun? Not me, that's for sure.

Losing my mind over a Dyson filter

I knew eventually it would happen, but I didn’t realize it would happen so soon. I, Valerie McLaughlin, have officially lost my mind.

It all started when I cleaned the filter of my Dyson. It has been more six months since we bought our wonder vacuum cleaner and it was time to clean the filter. I’ve been putting off the task for weeks. I finally gave in and cleaned it earlier this week.

But for whatever reason, I thought the filter came in three pieces: plastic cover, sponge filter and plastic lid. After I washed the plastic cover and sponge filter, I went searching for the plastic lid. I couldn’t find it anywhere. I looked on the utility shelves in and around the laundry room. I searched through a nearby garbage bag (with two stinky diapers, I may add). I searched in and around the washer and dryer. I searched for a good 15 minutes. Despite the fact I took the filter apart and washed in our small laundry room, I couldn’t find the plastic cover anywhere.

Frustrated and becoming increasingly angry, I gave up and took a break.

Hoping that new eyes could help me find the darn thing, I got dear husband to look that evening. He too became frustrated and increasingly angry. He searched for an hour before he gave up.

Does it even exist? He asked me.

Yes it does, I told him. It has to. I saw a lid, I said with all certainty.

Are you playing a joke? If you have, that’s okay. I’d be relieved.

No, I replied.

I was serious. If this was a joke, it would surely be a stupid one. Who’d joke about losing a lid of a Dyson filter? But then I started thinking. Was I dreaming of said lid?

The mystery was still unsolved when we went to bed.

The next day, confused and befuddled, I decided to take action. On the way home from a mommy and me music class, I stopped into a local vacuum shop. After stumbling over the owner’s dog and my own words in trying to describe my dilemma, the shop owner started flipping through manuals, trying to answer my question. It took him opening the filter compartment of a similar stand-up Dyson to solve the mystery. Plastic cover. Check. Sponge filter. Check. No plastic lid.

What the hell? Where was the lid? No lid? You've got to be kidding me.

After thanking the shop owner, I quickly high tailed it out of the store with darling daughter in tow.

I swear that I saw a plastic lid. I’m pretty sure I did. But now, I don’t know what I thought I saw. I think I need more sleep and stop dreaming and searching for non-existent Dyson filter lids.

Business in the front, party in the back

Some things should be left to the professionals. I don't believe in do-it-yourself plumbing or fixing the motherboard of my laptop when it dies. So why did I think I could cut darling daughter's hair?

For weeks, if not months, I've been threatening to cut her hair, much to dear husband's chagrin. She was developing a serious mullet. Regardless if a mullet is on a hockey player, an aging 80's rocker or a toddler, they aren't cute. I should point out that dear husband doesn't like mullets. He just doesn't like the concept of cutting darling daughter's hair. I had to promise him that I'd save her hair clippings from her first official hair cut.

When she woke up from her afternoon nap, my tolerance for the mullet had reach its breaking point. I hate to say this, but the back of her hair looked like a straggly, nasty, matted rat's nest. It was horrible. To put the mullet out of its misery, I got out the scissors, wet down her hair and snipped. Well, I think I may have snipped a little too much. It isn't even in places and it sure in heck could be styled a bit better, but at least the mullet is gone. She kind of looks boyish, so I'll be dressing her in pink for the next week or two. And maybe if I'm lucky, she'll tolerate a hair clip. At least her hair is all business now. No party in the back to be found. Thank God. No way around it, mullets are horrible.

Progress being made on the green bin front

Finally, some good news when it comes to me getting a green bin.

I was hoping to get a green bin last winter before the city rolled out its organics program in January, but due to the fact I live in medium density housing, I was placed in phase two of the roll out plan. At the time I contacted the city, I was told to expect to get green bin delivery sometime this spring or summer.

True to their word, I finally got a letter from the city. According to the city, the property management of the condo corporation isn't all that keen when it comes to the green bin program. In fact, the letter says, "many of the residents may not support the green bin program and they do not wish to have a condo wide delivery of green bins."

To that I say, too bad condo corporation. We already have garage and recycling pick up, what is the problem with organics pick up? As a homeowner and taxpayer, my property taxes are helping to fund this program. It makes absolutely no sense to me to pay for a program and not participate. And I don't want to hear the hogwash about stinky green bins. Either my organic waste sits in a garage can or a green bin. I choose the latter.

I'm not surprised with the notion that many residents won't support the green bin program. Heck, it is hard enough to get some of them to recycle. I'm constantly amazed at the crap people will haul out to the curb. Ottawa residents don't know how good they have it when compared to the garbage restrictions of other municipalities.

Despite the fact my condo corporation doesn't seem all that supportive of the green bin program, I am still eligible for a green bin. After reading the letter and quickly consulting with dear husband, I sent off a quick email to the city, requesting my green bin. It should arrive in four weeks. While I may be the only one on my street to have a green bin, I don't care. I've been waiting a very long time for a green bin and I fully intend to use it.

Running reality check

I’ve been told (by my running coach) that running up hills is a fun activity that I will come to enjoy. At this point of time, I have yet to fully embrace hill running. Actually, in my humble opinion, hills are a bitch.

Sunday, I met up with my running coach and friend, C. She makes running look easy. She’s graceful. Me, not so much. However, that hasn’t stopped me from dreaming of running a half marathon. I know this is a lofty dream, but it is one I aspire to do.

While C has been extremely supportive when it comes to help me achieving my running goals, she has made me pause a bit when it comes to a half marathon dream, especially after our hill running expedition. There is a half marathon in September. I found a 16-week half-marathon training program through the Running Room that will take me up to race day. It is doable, but I have some concerns. Number one: running outside in the summer. I hate the heat. Not too sure if I can run in it. Number two: possible injury. Yes, I ran 8k last week, but that doesn’t necessarily translate in me running 21k. Number three: can I finish it?

After talking to C, she has no doubt that I could do a half marathon, but the question remains what kind of time do I want? If I don’t mind walking a bit and don’t care about time, I’d likely finish it. But if I want a half decent time, that’s when the dream becomes a bit hazy.

As part of the half-marathon training program, hill running is included in the plan. C gave me a bit of a taste (well more of a taste) during our run. Under the illusion we’d go on a leisurely run along the Ottawa River, C informed me we’d run 7k, which included hill running.

Well, didn’t I get a running reality check when I attempted to run up a massive hill. The mission: run up this giant hill with all our might. Crest said hill and run 25 meters before jogging down. Repeat two more times.

Are you kidding me?!? Mission impossible, I thought.

As C ran up the hill like a graceful gazelle, I trudged up the hill like a hippo with all my might. My legs felt like lead and my heart was beating so rapidly that I thought it was going to jump straight out of my chest.

After the first attempt, I thought I was going to throw up. Do you think you are going to die? Asked C. Isn’t it fun? I should mention she was smiling. I think I replied to her comment with an expletive.

I will spare you the gory details, but I will tell you this: I did complete all three hill runs. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t nice. But I got the job done. Hill running, according to C, will improve my endurance and make me a stronger runner. She has first hand experience that hill running is important in any half-marathon training.

So I have a date with hill running once a week for the foreseeable future. I still fail to see how hill running is fun. And I’m not too sure if I’m willing to fully embrace it . . . yet.

Musical beds and an ear infection

We had one of the worst nights since darling daughter grew out of the newborn stage.

The last three night, or has it been four, we've been struggling through sleepless nights. Darling daughter is suffering from a wicked cough and runny nose, which would point to either a damn bad cold or allergies. My money had been on allergies as I was a bad allergy kid, plus the fact her barky cough sounded like a typical allergy cough.

Last night was the worst. Although she got to sleep relatively quickly, she woke up at 11 p.m. And for the next three and a half hours both me and dear husband tried to comfort our barking, snotty child. At one point, I was sleeping on her floor. Then dear husband and I changed positions. Staying true to her morning routine, darling daughter got up at her usual time at 6:15 a.m. And for the next hour and a half, she tossed and turned in my bed. No sleep for me.

Yesterday, I had the good sense to make an appointment with the doctor. While my gut was telling me allergies, none of the allergy medication seemed to be working. So this morning I took my barky, snotty child into the doctor, who surprised the heck out of me when he informed me that darling daughter wasn't suffering from allergies, but from an ear infection. An ear infection?!? You've got to be kidding me. I felt so bad. I had no clue. But at the same time, I was relieved. Don't get me wrong, ear infections are horrible, but I've been suffering on and off with allergies my entire life. Allergies are no picnic. I've heard the old war stories from my mom. At least with a cold or ear infection, it can be treated in a timely manner.

I've got my fingers crossed that we have a better night tonight and the antibiotics kick in soon. Right now I'm running on empty in the sleep department.

Recessionary times bad for garage sales?

I'm new to the garage sale scene. Early Saturday morning with my car packed full of baby stuff, I headed out to the Giant Kids Garage Sale with high hopes of getting rid of my stuff and making some money. Eight hours later, I returned home, with my car packed with my baby stuff and about $70 in my pocket. Ouch!

Last week I was so busy trying to get ready for the garage sale as well as trying to get a big hat order out that I had no time to blog. For a week, I painstakingly put items in Ziploc bags, labelled them, priced them as well as sorting and pricing items for the clothing rack, while trying to block dear husband's pleas that I was "selling darling daughter's childhood" every time I put a priced item of clothing or toy into the sell bin. I've heard so many great things about this garage sale, so I did have hopes of selling darling daughter's unwanted clothes and items. I did get rid of some stuff, but stuff that I thought would easily sell didn't.

It was an interesting experience as most the people I encountered were savvy shoppers, on the hunt for bargains. At one point, I reduced my prices. Two hours later, I took all the prices off, hoping people would make me an offer. I got some nibbles, but nothing concrete. People weren't even looking. And when they did, they were extremely picky. I took comfort that most people were in the same boat as us as no one seemed to be buying. At the end of the sale, it looked like no sale had taken place because there was so much stuff left over. It was incredible. I learned from other vendors that the sale didn't attract as many shoppers as it usually does. Some theorize that mass consignment sales that are being held every weekend throughout the spring here in the Ottawa area took a bite out of business. Some have said that these sales, overall, have been slow.

So are recessionary times bad for garage sales? Sure you want to get rid of stuff, but you don't want to give it away either. I enjoy bargains too, but the shoppers I encountered on Saturday were very hard to please. Right at the moment I was packing my stuff away to haul out to my car, a woman came over to look at darling daughter's cookie jar shape sorter. In my mind, I was doing a little happy dance as I thought I had a last minute sale. When she discovered the toy was battery operated (batteries were working perfectly) that apparently was a deal breaker and she walked away. At that point I had reached my limit. I stuffed the shape sorter in the box and headed out to the car. When I returned home, dear husband was happy to discover that I hadn't sold that piece of darling daughter's childhood.

To make a long blog post short, I'm off garage sales and possibly consignment sales, too. Not too sure how I'm going to get rid of darling daughter's leftover sale items. Luckily for me, they are folded neatly in Ziploc bags. I'll likely end up packing them away, lick my wounds and wait for a consignment sale in the fall. Hopefully by then people may be apt to part with their money.