What is the big deal about Ikea anyway?

Today, I happened to see what it is like when an Ikea store opens for business for the day.

I should point out that it wasn't intentional goal on my part to be there when the doors opened promptly at 10 a.m. I received an Ikea gift certificate from darling daughter for Christmas. I thought about going to Ikea yesterday, but I didn't want the hassle of dealing with a packed parking lot, so I delayed my plans until this morning. The plan was to go to the gym and then to Ikea. I made the mistake of not finding out in advance Ikea's hours of operation. When I arrived in the parking lot at 9:30 a.m., I thought the shopping gods had cut me a break because the parking lot was basically empty. However, this should have been a clear indication to me that the store wasn't opened. I was shocked to learn that Ikea doesn't open until 10 a.m. Ten a.m?!? As if. What store opens at 10? I thought when the locked doors greeted me.

To kill time, I went into nearby Michael's. Lucky for me, yarn was on sale. So I quite happily fed my increasing yarn addiction by purchasing three balls of wool yarn. When I was walking out to the parking lot, I had noticed the crowd crowded around the front doors at Ikea were walking into the store. It wasn't quite 10 a.m. yet, so I figured the store opened a bit earlier. Nope. They were just letting people mull around the cash area, drinking complimentary coffee. The crowd kept on getting bigger and bigger. People crowded around the Ikea employee greeting customers, eagerly waiting for the doors to open. And at the stroke of 10 a.m., Ikea time, the doors opened and people rushed into utopia.

I, on the other hand, sat on a bench, waiting for the crowd to disperse. Instead of going through the front doors, I went past the cashes, walked through the warehouse area and picture frame department to my destination. If there is one thing I dislike about Ikea is the crowds. I don't like to walk behind people, especially gawkers. When I shop, I'm on a mission. I don't browse. I get in and I get out.

So I got my bins, made my way back to the cash and paid for my purchases. I was in and out in 10 minutes. And that is pretty good, especially when shopping at Ikea.

Please tie a blue ribbon

There is a grassroots movement going on in Ottawa to remember Const. Eric Czapnik, who was stabbed to death early Tuesday morning outside the Civic campus of the Ottawa Hospital.

To be honest, I'm not too sure on all the details, so please excuse me if not all my facts are straight, but from what I have gathered from CFRA, a OC Transpo driver came up with the idea of citizens wearing blue ribbons on their coats and/or on their vehicles in memory of Const. Czapnik and also to support the Ottawa Police Service.

Many people, retailers and small business owners called into Ron Corbett's show this afternoon, offering suggestions and even materials for people to use in order to make blue ribbons. I found an old blue Christmas bow downstairs, took out the staple, cut off a piece of ribbon and tied it to my car antenna. And if it blows away, I've got plenty of ribbon of left to make a new one.

So if you have the materials to make a blue ribbon, please take the time to make one. And if you don't have the materials, please say a little prayer for the Czapnik family and the Ottawa Police Service. I think they need all the prayers they can get in this most difficult time.

Leftovers galore

The turkey has been eaten. The remainder of the pumpkin swirl cheesecake that I didn't end up stashing in freezer has been consumed. Any and all leftovers from Christmas Eve dinner are gone. However, the that doesn't mean the leftover parade is over in my household!

Hell, no. I'm up in my eyeballs in leftovers. My meal planning plans that I executed earlier this month are still going strong. And as planned, I'm eating leftovers until the cows come home (or when there are no more leftovers to be found in the freezer). On tonight's menu: leftover slow cooker lasagna. Yum. And there are two more containers where that came from.

A quick glance in the freezer reveals that I have some fiesta chicken, baked beans, spare ribs and some turkey hash to go through. Argh! I hate leftovers. I'm not a fan. But I'm better than dear husband. He'll avoid any opportunity to eat leftovers. I basically have to either cajole him or badger him to eat them. There have been times where he'll conveniently "forget" to bring his lunch (leftovers from the previous night's dinner) to work. But as previously planned earlier this month, the deal was that we'd get rid of those leftovers by eating them. I can't exactly toss them. It would be a waste of food. Plus, I have no green bin to recycle them. Plus, I'm hoping this will relieve some pressure on the grocery bill. The bright side of all of this is I don't have to cook or plan any dinners for at least a week. Yay for me. And when those leftovers are all gone, I can always start making meals again or crack into the cheesecake.

All I want for Christmas is a green bin

I was hoping Santa would pull through and deliver me a green bin since the City of Ottawa won't. But no dice.

There was no shiny green bin sitting underneath my fake plastic tree on Christmas morning. Alas, it will be at least summer before I get one. I was so excited this fall. I waited for weeks for someone to deliver a green bin to my front door step. But as September rolled into October and October became November, I wondered if it would ever arrive. I decided to call 311 a couple of weeks ago to figure out if I was ever going to get one.

It took a week (I guess a week is a good response time when dealing with such a big corporation as the City of Ottawa) before someone got back to me. I wasn't home at the time, but according to the voice mail I received I won't be getting a green bin until sometime in the spring or summer of 2010 as I live in medium density housing. I'm not too sure what this means, but I'm a part of phase two. Obviously, the city couldn't spare one of the many green bins that have been returned by upset residents in recent months. So here I wait, hoping for a green bin to arrive to my front door step. As thousands of people scrape their turkey leftovers in their new shiny green bins this Christmas, I'll be dumping my turkey remains in a green plastic garbage bag and hauling it to the curb. Destination: landfill.

O Christmas tree update

Earlier this month, I blogged about my worries about getting a Christmas tree. I thought I'd give provide an update. We decided to go with option three: get a big tree and let the chips fall where they may. The tree has been up for more than two weeks now and it is still standing. We may be tempting fate for not having it tethered to the wall, but luckily there have been no incidents involving the tree crashing to the floor.

We cashed in $29.05 in Canadian Tire money to pay for the tree. Between the sale and the CTC money we redeemed, we got the tree for $38. I'd like to point out that was about seven years of CTC money that I collected. From all reports by dear husband, the CTC cashier wasn't very thrilled that she had to count out $29.05 in said Canadian Tire money. Too bad. Maybe you shouldn't be giving it out if you don't want people to save it and spend it.

Okay, back to the subject at hand -- the Christmas tree. Like I said, it is still standing, but it is a great source of amusement for darling daughter. She likes the ornaments, in particular, a green angel ornament that is in the shape a bell. Several times a day I have to tell her to stop playing with the tree, that is for looking at, not touching. And several times a day she refuses to heed my words and continues to play with the tree. I caught her yesterday playing with one of the red plastic balls.

Since erecting our plastic artificial tree, I have learned that I'm not a fan. Having a fake tree is definitely not the same as a real one. Some days I have the urge to water it. However, having a real tree was not an option this year. I'm still stinging over last year's tree debacle. Plus, I do enjoy the fact I'm not picking pine needles out of the bottom of my socks.

Sippy cup SOS

This past weekend, I misplaced two sippy cups within a 24 hour period.

Woe is me. When you only have two sippy cups, losing one puts you in a difficult position. The first sippy cup was misplaced at a friend's house during a Christmas party. I meant to put it in darling daughter's diaper bag, but it completely slipped my mind when we were leaving.

After realizing we were one sippy cup down, dear husband bought darling daughter two brand new sippy cups. Good thing he did because once again we were one sippy cup down come Sunday afternoon after returning home from another playdate. When we were packing up from the playdate, I remember putting the sippy cup in the diaper bag. That is the last time I saw it. Either it fell out of my bag or was eaten by the diaper bag. Regardless, it is gone and no where to be found.

Now I have two cups. I almost lost a third yesterday when visiting my brother's house. I made a mental note to retrieve darling daughter's sippy cup from my brother's living room when we were leaving. And we couldn't find it. Me, my sister-in-law and my mother spent about five minutes searching for darling daughter's sippy cup. I was sweating bullets. If we couldn't find the sippy cup, we'd be two sippy cups down. With only one sippy cup to depend on, we were treading on a thin line. Two Christmas ago, I was at my brother-in-law's house when my 20-month-old niece lost her sippy cup. It was their only sippy cup. They spent hours searching the house for said sippy cup. They finally found it in the trunk of my niece's bike. Needless to say, the bought a back up sippy cup.

Well, the sippy cup gods decided to cut me a break and we found the sippy cup in the little cupboard inside the coffee table. I was relieved. I meant I didn't have to break into darling daughter's Christmas stocking and use the sippy cups I bought her for Christmas.

Thank you sippy cup gods for heeding my SOS. I do appreciate it. And if you could do something about the valves coming off the cups, I'd appreciate that, too.

Gingerbread dreams

I think I got the shaft when I was a kid. Until yesterday, I had never, ever decorated a gingerbread house.

In fact, I don't think I was aware of the gingerbread house decorating concept until I was in college. One day before the Christmas holidays, one of my rez acquaintances mentioned she was going to decorate a gingerbread house.

After years of debate, I finally bought a gingerbread kit this year. After yesterday afternoon's step class, I made an an emergency stop to the Bulk Barn to get some extra peppermint swirls, Christmas Smarties and gum drops, before racing home to decorate with darling daughter.

Although darling daughter didn't do much decorating (she tried to shake off the icing on her hand), I had a great time, sticking peppermint swirls on the roof, edging the roof with gum drops and sticking Smarties on the windows. It was so much fun, which begs the question, why the hell didn't I do this when I was a kid? When I posed that exact question to my mother, she pish poshed me, saying it is a Christmas tradition that I can start with my own kids. (Apparently, she didn't decorate gingerbread houses when she was a kid either). It is definitely a Christmas tradition that I want to continue to do. It's so much fun. And yummy too. I can't wait to break into that gingerbread house.

The problem with wrapping paper

Hi. My name is Valerie and I'm a wrapping paper addict.

I'm not fooling. I'm a wrapping paper addict. I love, love, LOVE wrapping paper. I just adore it. But the problem with wrapping paper is that it collects. There are only so many gifts you can wrap in any given year. And I fall in love with new wrapping paper patterns. I buy my new loves, fall in love again and buy my new, new loves. Yep, it is a nasty, costly cycle. I've had a wrapping paper problem since I was a kid. I was always buying it or asking my mom to purchase it. I think she is still using some of the wrapping paper I bought.

It got so bad that I had two wrapping paper bins stuffed full of wrapping paper. So I decided to do something about it. No more wrapping paper purchases. I went cold turkey last year. I didn't buy a single roll. Not one. And this year I found the will power not to buy any new rolls. And it is paying off. I am slowly getting through my wrapping paper stash. If I'm lucky this year, I'll downsize to one bin. Seeing my shrinking stash makes dear husband very happy. Over the years he has grumbled extensively about my wrapping paper addiction and how my bins cluttered up the closet. Curbing my wrapping paper addiction is a big accomplishment for me. Now if I could only do something about my Christmas card addiction . . .

There is a reason why bread makers were invented

I have concluded there is a very good reason why bread makers were invented. They were invented for people like me, who have grandiose dreams of the smell of homemade bread wafting through the house as newly baked loafs cool on a cooling rack.

For whatever reason, the idea of making my own bread has been stuck in my head for days. I've tried my hand three times to make bread and the results have been mixed, to say the least. I made cinnamon rolls on Monday. They turned out okay. Yesterday, I thought I'd try my hand at making bread from a recipe I discovered in my Kitchen Aid cook book that came with my mixing stand. It was a disaster. I knew it wasn't going to work when I saw yeast granulars dotting my dough. To be fair to myself, the recipe called for me to mix the yeast granulars as in with the dry ingredients. I had to chuck the end result because the bread was too dense and tasted quite yeasty. It was quite a disaster.

But apparently, I didn't learn my lesson. I made cinnamon rolls again, this time from a recipe in the Kitchen Aid cook book. The reason why I keep on turning to this cook book for help is that my stand up mixer does all the work. Since I proved Monday I couldn't knead bread to save my life, I thought I'd leave it to the stand up mixer and the dough hook.

Well, I was really optimistic that it would work this time. I followed all the steps to the T. I took the temperature of the water. I warmed my mixing bowl in the oven. I timed the mixing steps. I even warmed up my oven to let the dough rise. No dice. The dough didn't rise. And if it did, it wasn't very much. Since Monday I proved that sweet dough is pretty forgiving, I continued making the cinnamon rolls. They taste and look good, which is all I was hoping for.

So my traditional bread making dreams have been dashed. Bread making clearly isn't for me. Until I get a bread maker, I'll be buying my bread from the grocery store.

Quite simply, gym guilt is annoying

I go to the gym often. Maybe too often. Today, I thought I'd take the night off and not go to the gym. But gym guilt quickly set in.

I try to avoid gym guilt. I really do, but it is hard to ignore. Take this morning for instance. I told myself that I wouldn't go to the gym because I had gone on Saturday, Sunday and Monday. Self replied, saying fine, but why not?

Oh, that darn question. It hangs in the air, waiting to be answered. It won't be ignored.

Me: Why not? I said. Good question. Because I've gone for the last three days.

Self: Yes, I realize that you've gone for the last three days, but why not go tonight? Not like you have anything important to do. The way I see it you have two choices: drag your butt to the gym or sit on your butt. Your choice. And let me remind you, something may come up tomorrow night and you may not be able to go. Plus, the holidays have arrived. You can afford to go an extra night.

Me: But I want to sit on my butt and watch Coronation Street.

Self: Like I said, your choice.

Ah, your choice. As if I have a choice. Almost always, gym guilt slowly eats away at my resolve not to go to the gym. Sure, at 9 a.m. I may resolve not to go to the gym, but by 1 p.m. I'm wavering and by 4:30 p.m. I'm assembling my gym bag and waiting for dear husband to come home so I can head out the door.

Ah, gym guilt. It gets me every time.

Getting domestic

Today, I made cinnamon rolls from scratch.

I haven't made traditional cinnamon rolls since I was about 12 years old. I vaguely remember making them one Saturday afternoon during a 4-H course. Several years ago, my grandmother gave me a Purity cookbook for Christmas. It has photos and a step by step guide how to make bread and sweet breads such as cinnamon rolls. I thought bringing homemade cinnamon rolls to an upcoming Christmas potluck brunch would be a nice touch so I thought I'd do a trial run today.

After buying some shortening and a rolling pin this morning, I got out my cookbook and started mixing and kneading. I haven't kneaded bread in ages, so I was extremely worried about the rising process. I'm pretty sure it didn't happen correctly, but no matter, I was insistent in finishing these rolls. I rolled the dough out, sprinkled sugar and cinnamon on it, rolled it up, cut it into strips, mixed more sugar and margarine together, assembled mixture and rolls in a pan, let it rise again before putting it in the oven. The end results look impressive, but I'm unsure how it will taste.

We will see tonight how it tastes when I take it to a gathering. I'm pretty proud of my trial run. So proud that I may even attempt to make bread from scratch sometime later this week.

I'm dreaming of a NyQuil induced coma

Forget dreaming of a white Christmas. I'm dreaming of sleep.

I'm in desperate need of sleep. The last three nights have been H-E-L-L. Night one: two hours. Night two: five hours. Last night: six hours. Despite increasing my sleep quota over the last two nights, I'm utterly exhausted. I need some good, quality sleep. Not interrupted sleep. For a woman who basically lives her life in a bubble, I've been either dealing with allergies or a cold for the last month. Darling daughter got sick last week. She seems to be getting over her epic week-long runny nose.

I, on the other hand, sound like I'm coughing up a lung. My cough keeps me up at night. Combine this with the fact that I will suddenly wake up at night for no reason and I have a disaster on my hands. I'm utterly tired. I think I'm reaching the threshold where I'm just too tired to sleep. Ah, insomnia is not my friend. And as for dear husband, who takes public transit to get to work every day, other than the sore throat on Monday, he has had no major colds to deal with. Lucky him.

I'm waiting for dear husband to come home to take over parental duties. Once he walks through the front door, I'm taking a mega dose of NyQuil and calling it a day.

Days like these . . .

It is days like these that I'm glad that I'm a stay at home mom.

Right now I'm watching darling daughter play with her books and one of the small bins from her trofast unit. And that is fine by me. I've got a major headache, and it isn't from all the snow that is falling to the ground, either. I've been suffering with a cold for the last several days. I'm pretty sure that what I'm suffering from is a cold. It feels different than when I'm battling allergies. Right now I'm thankful that I can breath through my nose, but I wish this horrible cough would take a hike.

The other night I got a grand total of two hours of sleep and last night I got about five. While I more than doubled what I got the night before, I'm feeling pretty exhausted. Add in the fact that darling daughter is refusing to nap longer than one hour a day, and I'm almost to the end of my rope. A two hour nap would feel great right about now.

So before I confuse your or myself any further, the reason I'm glad that I'm a stay at home mom on days like these is that if I only had five hours of sleep, forced to battle the crazy stormy weather in rush hour traffic and work eight hours in an office, I think I'd go nuts. Right now I'm in my usual uniform of lululemon wear. I have no intentions venturing outside. I may not even leave the house for the rest of the week, depending how I'm feeling. Yes, I'm exhausted. Yes, the weather is frightful. But thankfully I'm safe and sound at home, in close proximity to a bed if darling daughter decides to take a nap any time soon.

Christmas card writing marathon

Good lord, who knew that writing out and addressing Christmas cards would take four hours?

Yesterday, dear husband was home sick. (We were both sick). With the two of us at home, I took the opportunity to write out Christmas cards. I had my day plan: Christmas card writing, tree trimming and some knitting.

Well, wasn't I surprised that this task that I thought would take me an hour to complete took all day. I started around 11 a.m. and except for a half-hour break, I was done around 3:30 p.m. I started getting writer's cramp two hours into my task. I don't remember last year's Christmas card writing session taking four hours. And I wasn't writing anything elaborate either, just a small message underneath the printed greeting and inserting a photo of darling daughter in some of the cards.

Once I was done my Christmas card writing marathon, I was pooped. I didn't feel like writing a blog entry. I had no energy to tackle one of my many knitting projects or drag the Christmas decorations from the basement to trim the tree. Our poor artificial tree is looking pretty sparse as it sits ignored in the corner. Other than the lights (it is a pre-lit tree) there isn't a single ornament on it. I'd like to say today is the day that we decorate the tree, but I'm running on two hours of sleep today. Maybe tomorrow would be a good day to do it as Wednesday is suppose to be a snow day. With 20 to 30 centimetres of snow predicted for the Ottawa area, I may manage to find enough Christmas spirit to decorate the tree with a toddler in tow.

Meal planning extravaganza

In my quest to become a domestic goddess in the kitchen, I've taken to meal planning with a vengeance. I've made meals for the last five evenings. Any leftovers we have have been frozen and will be used at the end of the month during the holiday rush. Today, I did an entire inventory of the pantry and the freezers and made lists. I used those lists to help create a meal plan for the upcoming week. I scoured websites for new recipes. I opened up cook books that haven't been open for years. I based my grocery list on my meal plan. Yes, it was certainly an exciting way to spend a Friday afternoon.

I don't like cooking, but meal planning is helping to bridge the gap. I'm even starting to get excited about cooking. But before I start planning my ticker tape parade, I know that this meal planning momentum I have will likely peter out and I may return back to opening up the refrigerator door at 3 p.m., wondering what is for dinner. Although I know I'm not going to be Rachel Ray or Jaime Oliver, but I'm hoping I can at least serve dinner every night at 5 p.m.

Stick happy

I think I may have gone a little crazy with the wall decals.

Creating darling daughter's playroom has been a work in progress for the last several months. First, I had to declutter the room. Second, I had to buy two toy storage units: one for the playroom and the other for the living room. And third, I had to find the motivation to finally finish putting it all together.

Lately, I been feeling pretty motivated. I almost want to say that I'm a domestic goddess with all the meal planning, cleaning and planning I've been doing for the last several days. In theory, I'd like to finish darling daughter's playroom by this weekend. My motivation to finish it comes in the form of a Christmas tree. Once that sucker is up, she'll probably won't be able to resist temptation. If all fails (and when I mean fail, I mean if the Christmas tree topples over due to the rambunctiousness of a very excitable toddler), we can head downstairs and play in the playroom.

I think one of reasons I haven't been all that motivated to finish the playroom is because it is downstairs in the basement. I find it a bit dreary downstairs. Who wants to play in a room with only a sliver of a window to let light in? To cheer the room up, I bought wall decals from a Buck or Two. Well, I went a little stick happy with the wall decals. I've got a mermaid theme one wall. I've got a wall and a half covered with fairies, some of which glow in the dark. I've got cute sparkly animals and I have an jungle/dinosaur motif on the back wall. I think I have it covered, literally.

So here's hoping that I get the playroom done by this weekend. I don't want to chance having a toddler playing with a Christmas tree. Too dangerous for my liking.

I welcome productivity

The last several days have very productive ones. I've made dinner every day this week. I've tackled laundry. I've vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom and washed the floors. I've dug out the Christmas decorations out of my very packed storage closet. I started to put together darling daughter's playroom, putting up wall statics and rearranging items. I finally got around to delivering the two garbage bags of aluminum cans to my next door neighbour. (Several months ago, she asked us to collect our cans for her. I think they go to charity). I've ordered photos for my Christmas cards. I figured how how to magic loop. Now the sleeve of a sweater I'm knitting doesn't look so sad. I've put together darling daughter's Christmas stocking. All I have to do now is wrap her gifts.

I welcome productivity. It makes me feel so productive. I'm hoping this trend will continue because I have quite the list I need to accomplish before Christmas.

O Christmas tree

This is last year's Christmas tree. Notice the very noticeable tilt? I refused to allow dear husband to straighten it out because I was afraid it would fall again. If my memory serves me correctly, I believe it was a couple of days before Christmas when our very real Christmas tree decided to crash on the floor, just minutes after I watered it. I wanted to cry. I think I may have did. There was pine needles and dirty water everywhere. I do remember making a frantic phone call to dear husband at work, informing him it was all his fault that the tree fell on the floor. He didn't even have a chance to reply because I rudely hung up the phone. It was certainly an afternoon to remember.

I vowed last year we would never have a repeat of Christmas 2008. I'm tired of real trees, their real needles shedding on my floor and their tendency to crash. It is artificial all the way this year, especially with a very active toddler on the go. But the question is should I get a small tree or a large tree?

I have no desire to police darling daughter and tell her to step away from the tree. The following conversation plays in my head when I think of setting up a Christmas tree: "Get away from the tree, please. I said, please move away from the tree. No, don't take the decorations off the tree. Be gentle. I said gentle. Or dear, I don't think that snowflake ornament will be the same. The tree isn't a snack so stop gnawing on the branches. If I said it, I've said it a million times, stay away from the tree. Oh dear God in heaven, I said, STEP AWAY FROM THE TREE." Not a very Christmasey conversation to have with a toddler, in my opinion.

As I see it, my options are the following: (1) have no tree; (2) have a small tree and set it up on a table behind the love seat so I have the illusion of a full tree; or (3) get a big tree and let the chips fall where they may. We haven't decided what to do. I'm leaning on having no tree at all, but that is the Scrooge in me talking. We'll likely get a tree. We'll likely have to police darling daughter in staying away from said tree. And the tree will likely crash again. Not from the help of gravity, but likely by a very curious toddler.