Meal planning at its best, well, not really

I'm still on the meal planning bandwagon, but I think I've got one foot trailing on the ground and if I hit a bump soon, I might fall off the wagon entirely.

On tonight's menu: leftover pizza and veggies. Can you say desperate? Or is lazy more the word to describe the situation?

Basically we had no groceries until now. As I type this, dear husband has returned from the grocery store, putting our new found bounty away. Grocery shopping was on my list to do today, but it just didn't happen. We met some friends at Chapters this morning and the kids played in the kids section. I spent some of my time policing darling daughter. She loves books, but books don't love her. She is hard on them. She likes to rip pages. After we left the book store, I had no steam to go to the grocery store. So I found some leftover pizza in the freezer and made some veggies. Voila! Dinner of champions.

This week's meal plan list is in my head, not on a piece of paper, which isn't the best idea because it is easy to get off track. But I got dear husband to buy all the missing ingredients tonight so I should be back on the wagon tomorrow morning. In my quest to find new recipes to try out I discovered a new cook book in the express read section at my local library branch called Bake Until Bubbly. Let's just say it has some divine recipes. However, I'm sure they will be appealing to the tongue, they may expand my waist line.

Pushing my buttons

As I have alluded before on my blog I don't like watching television during the day. For whatever inexplicable reason, I don't like watching daytime television (except for The View, but that may be changing soon because three of the co-hosts grate on my nerves . . .). So instead, I usually have the local talk radio station on. I may not agree with what the hosts say, but I feel like I have forged some kind of connection to the outside world.

But now darling daughter has learned a new trick: pressing the television power button. We aren't sophisticated (translated: too cheap to buy one) enough to own a flat screen television. I really want one, but our conventional boob tube still serves us well.

The clicking of the power button on off, on off, on off is usually what I hear when I'm busy in the kitchen. The house can be completely quiet and I suddenly hear voices. It is the television.

So now we play a little game. Darling daughter turns on the television and I turn it off with the remote. It continues for a few minutes before she gets bored and turns her attention to something else, usually climbing on the furniture. Oh the toddler years. They sure are fun, but they can be exhausting.

Is this considered playing fetch with your kid?

I felt a little bad today that I threw darling daughter's book up the stairs as an incentive for her to crawl upstairs.

Darling daughter is a pretty keen cookie. If you ask her a direct question that involves her crawling up the stairs (ie: Do you need your diaper changed? Do you want a nap? Is it time for a bath?) she'll run to the baby gate blocking the stairs to the kitchen and point upstairs. After opening the gate for her, she'll head for the stairs.

But lately she has been loitering at the bottom of the stairs, not wanting to go up. Maybe she is getting wise that when I say, Are you ready for nap time?, it is actually time for nap time. Typically, she always has something in her hand: a book, a small plastic dish, a little people figure while she crawls up the stairs. Today, she wasn't really wanting to go upstairs for nap time. So I took the book from out of her hands and flung it upstairs as an incentive for her to begin crawling. It worked. So when she reached the step where the book rested upon, loitering, I grabbed it upstairs and encouraged her to go and get the book. It worked again. Heck, it worked so well that when she reached the top of the stairs, she grabbed the book and waltzed off to her room.

But as I said earlier, I feel kind of bad. It almost felt like I was playing catch with her. Oh well. Some days I ask her Where is your phone? Where is your bus? Where is your sippy cup?, she'll run and find them and bring them too me. It almost feels like playing fetch with your kid. But maybe that totally isn't a wrong thing if it gets them to climb the stairs by themselves.

My car dashboard mocks me

They are back.

Those little bright icons, that suddenly appeared on my car dashboard to alert me that something is wrong with my brakes have returned.

Damn you. *Fist shake*

The story began last week. I had a feeling that something would go wrong with the car, so I wasn't surprised when the ABS and brake light icons appeared on my dashboard. I was left with two options: drive my car and ignore the icons or get it checked out. After an emergency call to the dealership, I found myself talking to a technician who thought it might be nothing. Or it might be something. After killing time by stumbling across a step class at a nearby Goodlife, eating lunch at Kelseys, a quick shopping trip at Costco and a 30 minute wait in the service department's waiting room, I finally got an answer: a broken sensor. Car is safe to drive, the technician assured me, adding there is nothing wrong with the brakes. Damn, how much will a new sensor cost? I asked. Free, the answer. Covered by the warranty. Thank God, as my credit card couldn't stand any more financial abuse.

As mysteriously as they appeared, they disappeared about a day later. Weird. I've been driving the car around for the last week, without a warning icon in sight. But they reappeared this morning, mocking me. I have yet to hear from the dealership as to when they will be able to replace the sensor. So unless they disappear again, I guess the icons will be mocking me as I drive around town.

Green bin envy

I promise this will be my last whining post regarding Ottawa's green bin program until I get my green bin.

Today is garbage day in my neighbourhood. The amount of garbage on my street is quite astounding. There is a lot of cardboard, which isn't surprising since this is the first paper recycling day since Christmas. However, there seems to be more garbage bags than normal at the opposite end of the street. It almost looks like a very mini Carp mountain.

I don't like garbage day. In fact, I hate it. Sure, we generate garbage, but I am constantly amazed the amount of garbage people will haul out to the curb, namely furniture. Living in Ottawa and got an old couch? Just haul it out to the curb. Don't even think about taking it to Goodwill or the Salvation Army. The garbage man will take it instead. I couldn't get away with hauling out an old couch to the curb in the community I grew up. It is unheard of. Instead, you got to buy special garbage bags (about $3 each). No black garbage bags are accepted.

Last week, someone dumped phone books onto a pile of garbage bags. They weren't picked up because it was cans, instead of paper. So there they sat in the snow bank. I doubt the recycle guys will even be able to see them this week because of the snow we have gotten in recent days. I think the next time we'll see them is sometime in the spring.

This week's garbage day is a bitter pill to swallow. Officially, this is the week the city rolls out its green bin program. Compost is being accepted. I saw a number of green bins at the curb. When I turned onto my street, it was black garbage bags and cardboard. Not a green bin in sight. Our street is in the phase two portion of the green bin program. We may get our green bins sometime this summer.

But I want my green bin now. I've been waiting patiently for a green bin since the city announced it was going to be taking the program city-wide. Until I'm able to feed my own green bin, I guess I'll just have to continue stewing with my green bin envy.

Small things make my day

We are already four days into January and I'm already sick of the snow. Snow, snow, snow. And just for fun, blowing snow. It seems like it has been snowing since New Year's Eve. I'm tired of putting on my boots, trudging out to the car with a toddler in tow, teetering on the snow bank lining the sidewalk, hoping I won't fall before I get to the car. Freaking snow. Hate it.

After a frustrating morning which involved me only getting a 30 calorie workout at the gym before the child minding lady handed me darling daughter right at the elliptical machine and then grocery shopping with said grumpy toddler, I parked my car on the street in hopes the snow plow operators would do something with the snow.

My prayers were answered. Shortly after lunch they arrived, plowing the snow away. And God bless their hearts, they even scraped away the huge snow bank growing along the sidewalk away. What a huge relief. I no longer have to worry about climbing over it while carrying darling daughter to the car.

So thanks snow plow operators. You made my bleak January day a bit brighter.

The January Blahs

There is no doubt about it, January is a blah month.

Poor January. It can't live up to the expectations of December, filled with Christmas cheer, holiday parties, weeks of vacation for the both young and old and of course, presents. Sure, a new year starts on January 1, but most people are holed up in their houses taking down Christmas decorations, coping with a fuzzy head from the night before or bracing themselves for the credit card statement that will arrive any day now to really enjoy New Year's Day.

And after the decorations are put away, the outdoor Christmas lights are turned off and the credit card statements arrive, people hunker down and wait for spring to arrive. Yep, there is no doubt about it, January has arrived.

I find this time of year to be sad. It is sad when you have to pack away Christmas decorations. It is sad when people turn off their outside Christmas lights as the winter darkness seems a wee bit more darker. It is sad when family visiting for the holidays leave for home. The Christmas cheer and holiday plans that you had been basking in for the last several weeks have vanished and come to an abrupt end. Although the eggnog is on sale at the grocery store at discount prices, there are no more holiday movies or specials to watch on the CBC when sipping eggnog out of your reindeer punch bowl glasses. The way I look at it, only four more weeks until February arrives, the shortest month of the year. Until then, I'll be hunkered down, knitting, waiting for winter to end.