Damn those diabeasties

Yes, I've bastardized the word. I know it's supposed to be diabetes, but it's funny - for the longest time, whenever I'd type it I'd spell it wrong and diabeasties or some version thereof would spring to life on the screen.

Strangely apropo, I'd say. It is a filthy beast that is constantly on my back - hmmm, sounds remarkably like too many Saturday nights in my mid 20's - and today, the beast got both uglier and a smidge more attractive at the same time.

Sounds like I've completely lost it, doesn't I? Better and worse at the same time? How can that possibly be, you wonder? She's completely lost it, you mutter to yourself. And yet you can't turn away....right?

Right.

First, let's back up a bit. If you've been reading from the beginning, you likely know that I was recently diagnosed with Type 2 diabeasties, discovered as Hubs and I continue our 'let's get knocked up' journey. We've been trying for well over two years now and nothing...goodie. So we do the tests, go through the motions, and lo and behold, the sugar monsters rear their ugly heads.

So we go on medication. Not insulin, but a wonder pill called Metformin. Supposed to put everything into balance, etc, etc, etc. I test my blood four times a day and generally speaking things are working out pretty well - three out of four times each day.

My morning sugars just won't bow to my will, or that of the drugs. Bitches. Better step off or I'm gonna beat you down, sugars. Sigh. Yeah, this is what's become of me - I'm threatening glucose. What a fearsome foe.

But a foe indeed. Turns out I need a bigger, better weapon in my war on sugar. My own personal WMD, if you will. And this time, insulin is its name. Fanfreakintastic.

So now, every night before I go to bed, I have to pinch an inch in my belly (no lack of real estate there), stick myself with a 32 gauge needle, count to six, and let the insulin-y goodness seep into my bloodstream. And it's supposed to allll look better in the morning.

Can I just pause for a minute and say thank *insert preferred diety here* that I have a kick ass drug plan? Dag.

All in an effort to get healthier, feel better and, hopefully, get and stay pregnant. Not too much to ask for, dontcha think? I'm getting there - 28lbs lost and counting, which is good, but that's a drop in the proverbial fat bucket. At least it's a step in the right direction...yeah, let's go with that.

The really good news from the appointment this morning is that the one key level the doctor looks at - the one that says yay or nay to working on the whole preggo thing - is finally where it's supposed to be (lower, actually), so we're back on the baby making train. I was actually told in December that it would be dangerous to me and any potential piglet to be pregnant with my sugar at their current levels, but now we're good to go! We can once again take off the protective gear and get in the game. Put me in, coach! I'm ready!!

And now you can see how it can be both good and bad, and rest assured that I've not totally lost the plot. Not all of it anyway, but I'm working on getting those missing bits back, I swear.

So tomorrow morning Hubs and I will smilingly show up for our follow up appointment at the fertility clinic to get all of our test results back (see if his swimmers are up to the race, if my tubes are free of debris and other generally non egg friendly stuff, etc) and see where we go from here. And despite the fact that I have to poke my own belly nightly before I shuffle off this mortal coil, I'm grinning from ear to ear that we at least can get back on track and try to make some headway in this baby making business.

'Cause we all know this world is in desperate need of a little Divalet running around playing princess. Hubs is getting tired of being the only guest at all my tiara parties...

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Blasted technology...

My wonderful, loyal, faithful readers...

Well, at least I hope you're loyal and faithful - it's been kinda quiet around here lately, gals. Tap, tap, tap - is this thing on? Ahem.

I know I haven't been the best blogging diva, not always here and posting every day like I once did, but I can say that yesterday's lack of daily dash is not my fault alone - blame those buggers who make wireless routers, 'cause those sons of bitches went and made us a dud.

All was fine, ticking along, I was enjoying wireless freedom in our new house. Hell, I could (and indeed, have) blogged from the warmth and safety of our master bedroom, far far away from the damned router thing. No problems, not a blip...but now, the damned thing doesn't work properly.

And so I'm forced to sit here, in our dining room, attached directly to the freakin cable modem, to compose this Luddite-approved diatribe in an effort to not disappoint you further with my absence and/or make you fret that I'm currently trapped under something insanely heavy or that I've been unceremoniously chopped into pieces by our new neighbours. I'd hate for you to worry about little ole me.

'Cause I'm just fine, if you can discount this entire computer-not-working-properly thing, which is clearly having a serious impact on my let's-try-to-be-more-positive thing. Ugh.

In other news, life on my plane of existence has been pretty decent. Had a big event for work this morning - an exclusive breakfast at a swanky downtown restaurant designed to tell people about our cause - and it went dazzlingly well. BUT...it meant I had to haul my incredibly sleepy carcass out of our nice, warm, Jonathan Adler bed before 5am.

5am.

Who the fuck is up at that time? I mean really???

Me. And today, Hubs. And the lovely people who are at my Tim's, making my cranberry blueberry bran muffin. It was actually still a little warm as we hit the drive thru around 6:07 this fine morning. God save us all. That's one sure sign that it is too fucking early to be awake.

Apologies for the profanity today, but I'm fucking tired (oops, I did it again). Between the Oscars on Sunday and the early rising this morning, I'm plum tuckered out!

Hey - reading that oops, I did it again, did that make you think of Britney? Poor waif...so unhappy, so rich. Sigh. I'm thinking of making Save Britney buttons and selling them in subway stations to raise some much needed funds for...well, not her I suppose, as she doesn't really need funds for anything. But maybe I could use the dough to buy her a nice, shiny new wig. CRAZY girl! Who does that, I mean really? But I digress...

I apologize for cutting today's entry short (hehe - cutting it short, just after talking about Britney - I slay me) but the combo of being strapped to my wireless in the dining room while missing American Idol and my blistering fatigue have rendered me darn near blithering idiot status. That, and I really have to pee.

But before I go, a few things. One, I finished Stacey Ballis' Room for Improvement. It was good...not great, but I can hardly blame her, my expectations were almost un-meetable, and that has nothing to do with her. It's a good read, has characters I can relate to, some GREAT one liners, and despite all that it just didn't fully turn my crank. So Little Earthquakes by Jennifer Weiner (another all time fave of mine - Good In Bed is a must read) is next on my hit list. Stay tuned for updates!!

And finally - congrats to my friend Mellymoo who just told me today that she's expecting! A baby that is, not the UPS man at the door with another fab eBay find. Congrats to Mellymoo and her hubby. Can't wait to meet the little one come September!

Okay, I think that's about it for today. My fingers hurt (we were finally sorting out all the garbage and cardboard in our garage as tomorrow is apparently garbage/recycling day) from being outside and continually cutting myself, so I will stop, shut'er down, and go snuggle with Hubs who's anxiously awaiting my arrival on the couch. Ta ta!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Missions Accomplished!

Well, it's Sunday, the Oscars are on, and we managed to get sooo many things done today, I can barely contain myself.

First, we had breakfast at Denny's. Yummy. Yes, this was my big indulgence of the weekend. And quite silly, considering I stepped on the scale today for the first time since about a week before the move...and was shocked to see that I'd actually LOST weight despite all the crap you inevitably eat during the transition from home a to home b. How to celebrate? French toast, of course!! Probably not the best, most rational decision, but hey - a diva needs her syrup fix every once in a while, ya know? I have the whole week coming up to be good, behave and eat well. It's all uphill from here. Yeah, I'm gonna go with that.

From there, the hall table hunt was on again. We tried six other furniture stores and yet again, nothing. Went into Pier 1, looked at every freaking table they had, and left with a chandelier.

Yes, you read that right...a chandelier.

One thing this house was missing is a light fixture of any definition in our dining room. There's nothing there - not a lamp, a crappy fixture we can take out and replace - nothing. We've been keeping our eyes out for the past little while to see if anything struck our fancy, but it hasn't been priority number one (hall table is number one, in case you skip entire entries or just a few paragraphs). And the lack of existing light fixture meant we needed to find something that could plug into the wall (surprisingly difficult, you'd actually be surprised) and our find today could not be more perfect.

Now, this photo does not do this glorious chandelier any justice whatsoever, but I feel that I must share it with you all. Feast your eyes on this...

It's surprisingly light, made of plastic, but 'tinkels' like glass does. Again, looks like nothing special here, but as soon as I get it up and photos taken, I'll be sure to show it off in it's natural habitat.

Sigh....this is what's become of me. I cream my panties over things like plastic light fixtures. I derive great pleasure from finally getting my curtains up. I twitter with anticipation as I enter one more store in the hunt for the perfect hall table, because this just might be the place we'll finally find it. Bah, this too shall pass I suppose, once we're pretty much settled and the 'mains' have been purchased. But until then, I'm as excited about what goes inside the bedroom as I am about what goes on inside the bedroom. Not sure if that's sad or fab. Then again, how can there be anything wrong with getting twice your regular dash of orgasms?

Tee hee.

Anywho, woo! Gettin steamy up in here.

To completely change tracks and to put your minds at ease, we did manage to come up with a creative solution to our hall table conundrum. Yep, we're pretty smart that way. Didn't find a table, but instead hopped over to our local IKEA and bought a LACK bracket free shelf in black and stuck it in the wall. Then we got a black towel rack and some hooks, and installed that below the shelf for my purses, umbrellas, Hubs' ball caps...you know, the stuff in your house that needs hangin'.

And it looks pretty darned good. We're both happy, our shit has a place to go when we get home, and the last box has finally been relegated to the basement - so I'm tickled pink.

Speaking of which, I bough a new pink bag today - needed something bigger to haul all my stuff via GO train, and was sick of a bag and a purse etc etc etc. So we shall test it out tomorrow and see how it all comes together.

So there's my update for the day, dear readers. Hope your weekend was fabulous and that the next one comes right damned quick for us all.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

A suburban Saturday

Errands 'R Us, that's the name of the game this weekend. So little time to get things done during the week that we're forced to cram it all into these two blessed days away from the office.

Perhaps the scariest moment of the entire day came when I woke up, on my own, at 7 am. Now in our previous place, I NEVER woke up at 7am, not without the assistance of the dreaded alarm clock. And here I am, one week into my new commuter schedule, waking up naturally well in advance of my traditional Saturday morning sleep in time.

What on earth is becoming of me? Not able to take full advantage of my glorious weekend sleeps when they're 99% of what gets me through the week in the first place kinda has me unsettled. God only knows what tomorrow will bring! If the trend continues, I'll be up and out of bed before the stinking sun gets up!

Anyway, enough about early rising. I will say that the combination of getting up early and a telephone call from my aunt and uncle who live very close by saying they wanted to stop by in about 45 minutes really got my diva butt in gear. Quick shower, quick lotion slathering/makeup applying/clothing selection rituals, and then they're here. It's great having more family so close by, especially when they're kind enough to pop over and bring housewarming presents!

Once they left, Hubs, DeeDee and I piled in the car and began our running around. We hit, in this order, Linens N Things (new towels for DeeDee's bathroom, vanity stool for me - surprise!, and a second set of sheets for our bedroom at a huge steal), Homesense (oooh too many fab finds to list - they have fantastic spring/easter stuff, I got a decorative plate, piece of art and vase and flowers for the master...so much more), Zellers (cup and toothbrush holder for DeeDee's bath, coat rack for the basement, a Dora cup for my nephew, pop (4 for $5 - yippee!), Chapters (four more books for me now that I'm a GO train girl - more about these later), and Canadian Tire (cable so DeeDee can watch tv in her room, chain to install the pot rack, screws to put up the CD rack, and other not at all exciting Canadian Tire crap). Quite the day, would you not agree? Yeesh!

The one thing that alluded us yet again? We're looking for a small, narrow table for our entranceway. Light to medium coloured wood, under $100. In the old place, we had our marble sofa table against the wall, but it looks so much better in our dining room that it was a no brainer to look for something new. Now it's the kitchen table hunt all over again!! Blast it! I can tell you that I've looked for something in all of the stores mentioned above and then some...and nothing, nada, zip - a big, fat goose egg! Argh. My frustration mounts.

Once we got home it was task time yet again. This poor diva was put to work assisting with the cable installation (involved drills and staple guns - fun!!!), washing the new sheets and towels, finally getting the *&(&*^(&*ing CD rack up, putting photos and art up...and yeah, I guess that was about it. Mostly because now that the CD rack is up, there's but one box in our living room, and it's got all the stuff that SHOULD now be sitting on a nice new hall table. But alas...sigh.

Domestication fully set in as we ordered pizza and argued about what movie we were going to watch. The food arrived as we were still trying to decide, so we ended up sticking with Dumb and Dumber for the love of god. Please let this not be a sign of things to come. Not that there's anything wrong with Dumb and Dumber per se, but you know things are bad when you're watching it on a channel that dubs everything and cuts out all the good fart scenes. Blech.

10pm has come and gone and everyone else has gone to bed. Yep, you read that right - DeeDee headed up an hour ago, and Hubs wasn't soon after her. Must be all this country air, getting us right tuckered out.

Tomorrow promises to be an interesting day. We've tossed around the idea of going to the AutoShow, there's supposed to be a huge storm which will make our trip to take DeeDee back to her mom completely delightful, and the Oscars are on which means a rather late night but some good fashion watching. Me loves poking fun at the really nasty outfits. Meow - saucer of milk, table two!!

Before I shuffle myself off to bed, let me tell you about at least one of the books I got today. It's by an author I love - Stacey Ballis. Believe it or not, I'm a huge fan of chicklit, and Stacey really fits the bill. I relate to her characters sooooo much, I hope this new book (Room for Improvement, it's called) lives up to my imposed hype. I'll be sure to come back and let you know! A diva simply must share her fabulous finds with her friends.

Finally - Tiffany, Dan should be getting home right about now (blogger timestamps the time you start a post, not when you officially publish it, so it's now actually 11). I'm so excited for you - hope his homecoming is fantastic and well worth the wait. And can't wait to hear about all the loot he brought you back from Afghanistan and beyond!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Snow + suburbs = 3 hour tour

Okay, so I'm really trying to stay away from negative, venting only posts. Yes, it's my blog and I can vent if I want to, and I will, but all that venting only gets you so far, you know? Gotta try to stay positive, 'cause it surely seeps into your entire mindset and helps dictate how you feel about any given day.

And I promise I'll start all of this positivity as soon as I finish bitching about my ride into work today.

To set the scene - as was mentioned yesterday, Hubs was going to Windsor and would likely be there overnight. As such, he decided that he wanted to spend more time with me in the morning since he wouldn't see me at night (awww - love him), so he said he would drive me to Yorkdale and I could take the subway straight down to work. I told him honestly, it was okay, I don't mind the train and didn't want to hold him up, but he said it again and I went along. I like spending time with the man, so it wasn't much of a stretch to say yes.

So we pile in the car, in the midst of a very silly indeed snowstorm. HUGE flakes, very wet, making a mess out of everything but all in all not that debilitating or worth turning back for. We make our morning Tim's run, and my hand is instantly warmed by my large two milk one sweetner (this is how life changes - there are no Starbucks' here - yet - only Tim's - everywhere). We choose a route after a somewhat energetic discussion and we're off.

Right into traffic. Nothing but brake lights.

We head towards the 407 as Hubs decides he wants to try it today. Uh....yeah. Not so great. Brake lights there too. Nothing's moving. We're barely a quarter of the way there, and already an hour has gone past. I email the office at 8:11, warning them that there's no way in hell I'll make it in on time. Sigh.

We decide to get off the 407 and head down the 404/DVP to see if it's any better - mostly because we can use the High Occupancy Vehicle (HOV) lane. Score.

By now it's 8:40, and my bladder is full. To bursting. Tim's had entered the building and was attempting to find a way back out. Not cool.

I mention this fact to Hubs, and he asks if I want to pull over somewhere. I say no, let's keep going...always the martyr, I am. A few km's down the road we're still not going anywhere and I am in abject agony. You know that bladder pressure you get when you've been out drinking and even though you were smart enough to pee before you left the bar, you still get that pee pain on the cab ride home? You're fumbling for cash, willing to give the cabbie your purse, firstborn, anything to get the hell out of there and into a bathroom to end this constant ache?

That was me from 8:30 to 8:55 this morning. 25 minutes of bladder hell.

Sensing my great discomfort, Hubs pulls off the DVP so we can go to the Esso station he knows is nearby. Awesome. Relief is but a few stoplights away.

Enter brake lights. Again.

I can see the flippin red, white and blue of the Esso promised land, but we can't get there. So close, and yet so very, very far.

As all this is going down, snow is falling all around us, I'm freaking out about being late and the pee pain, and Hubs gets a frantic phone call from Sludge saying DeeDee doesn't want to go to school that morning and he had to do something. Poor Hubs - everyone around him is in crisis, and it's now his job to fix it.

He got mine solved as we finally pulled into the now sacred Esso. I run into the store, spot the universal sign for washroom (that silly little stick lady with a dress) and am delighted, nay overjoyed, to discover not one but TWO separate facilities. Oh joy, oh bliss.

Oh shit. They're both occupied. Sooooo not fair.

As we all know it hurts so much more when you're standing up, and by this point I'm doing the pee-pee dance right there in the middle of Esso while a bunch of folk waiting for THEIR morning Tim's stand in line. I was a walking advertisement for the adverse effects of Tim's and long car rides, but they were none the wiser.

Finally a door opens and sweet sweet relief is mine. That's pretty much all I have to say about that - I mean really, what else is there for me to tell you? I peed, it was great. I got back in the car.

It's now after 9, Hubs has filled up the tank while I emptied mine (har har) and convinced DeeDee to head off to school and we're off yet again. Just in time to get stuck in more traffic.

So we inch along, postulating every alternative route along the way, and I finally get dropped off at the subway station. I swipe my Metropass, head down the stairs, and there's the train. Score. I hop in, pull out my book and think maybe, just maybe, I'll make it to work for my 10am meeting. It's now 9:35. I dash off an update email to the office, and throw myself into my fantastic book.

Which I get to read a lot of, because the train doesn't move. Apparently there's a signal problem or something like that, so we sit there. Just sit there. This is the point in my day where I throw my hands up in the air (metaphorically speaking that is - people look at you funny if you all the sudden throw your hands up in public) and decide to just sit back and relax, I'll get there where I get there.

And the happy TTC chime tinkles, and we're off. Yes, we stopped in tunnels for a good period of time, and yes, it was 10:15 by the time I finally slid into our team meeting, but I had finally freakin made it. Three hours from door to desk. For the sake of everyone concerned, I think I'll stick to taking the train.

Poor Hubs - such a great, sweet, wonderful, good intentioned idea that went horribly wrong. And to put icing on a rather rotten cake, while we were stuck in traffic, he got a call from the Windsor office canceling the training he was heading there to conduct. Poor guy.

But good for me! I've got my Hubs beside me in bed tonight, and that's what matters. We got to have dinner together, watch Grey's Anatomy and just generally spend some good quality couple time.

And tomorrow morning, he'll drop me off at the bus stop. Lesson learned, lesson learned.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Routine is overrated...

or is it? I gotta tell you, this past week has been one test of my mental and emotional fortitude after another. The insanity of the move itself (did I mention it cost TWICE what the moving company estimated? Yeah, that's right - twice. I almost barfed) was enough to throw me into orbit, but the unpacking, the setting up, the issues with drywall and whatever the hell is behind it that's making it impossible to install my beautiful mirror in my vanity area - these are but a few tiny things that are making me totally lose my mind.

I don't sleep much, I'm grouchy, I'm irritable with Hubs (poor guy), I just get snarky at any little thing that doesn't go my way, I'm stressed getting adjusted to my new commuter status (mostly because of the schedule - the actual ride ain't bad at all), and hell, I haven't blogged daily in well over a week.

Can you tell I'm ready for all this stuff to just be behind us so we can get on to the real living? This diva wants to ENJOY her castle for the love of god, not toil in it endlessly like some wench who drew the short straw in the great cosmic lottery. Grr...

I realize that yes, this too shall pass, all will get unpacked and settled, and despite everything we've actually done a freakin good job at getting all set up for the amount of time we've physically taken up residence between these four walls.

But christ on crackers, have I not toiled enough? Have we not paid our dues? Sheesh. Maybe this weekend will be a bit better...

DeeDee's with us as of Friday, so tonight we had to put her bed together so she's got a place to rest her head. And of course, Leon's sent us the wrong bed...well, not wrong entirely, just not completely right. We ordered her a trundle bed - you know, the ones that have an extra twin bed stored underneath the main one that you can pull out and snap up to become a second, separate bed - but they sent us the daybed version of it. Ugh. Again, totally not a huge deal. DeeDee still has a place to sleep, it's a bed we like and that goes well with the room, but shit, it's not what we ordered. And that pisses me right the hell off. What was the number one reason we bought that bed over another one we were looking at? The trundle-ness of it all. And now, alas, we are trundle-less. Buggers.

To top it all off, Hubs has to go to Windsor to do training tomorrow, which means that he might not be home tomorrow night and I'll have to be alone in the house, all by myself, without him, for the first time in a very, very long time. Like, since May of last year when Hubs was in Vegas. Yeesh. To some of you, this may not seem like a big deal AT ALL but to me, it's huge. I've gotten pretty used to having him around and I sure do like him a whole lot (teehee) so this is gonna be pretty darn weird.

And finally, to add to my seemingly endless litany of complaints, I have a huge meeting at work tomorrow that I can't wait to have over and done with. Hell, I can't wait to have this week over and done with - and it was a short one to start of with! Is it summer yet? I could sure use a long weekend here and there to look forward to!

Despite everything, I must say that I'm totally digging our new digs. Even thought it might take me a bit longer to get to work in the morning, when I come home at night it's a totally different feeling than the apartment ever was. And that totally rocks. Having all this space to actually display our fantastic wedding spoils, pictures, clothes (hehehehehehe - I'm looooving all these closets) and to just be makes all the difference in the world.

So I'll do my best and suck it up for the next few days until we get into our groove and are more firmly established. Things will get better, this I most certainly know - but I sure as shit don't have to like the current state of affairs, ya know? Check back tomorrow to see if anything has changed.

Ta ta!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

And back to work I shall go...

Hard to believe the 'holiday' is over. It's back to work tomorrow and I suppose I'm ready. I really, truly could use another week at least to settle in - still so much to do - but I just don't have that much vacation time to kill on something as non-fun as a freaking move. But alas, it's all for the greater good and hopefully, we won't have to do this again for a long, long, long time. I don't think any of us could take it!!!

Anywho, it is late and in the morn I take my first trip on the GO so I will have to be brief. I did, however, promise that I'd come back and show a picture or two of the lovely purchase I made for above our bedroom door, and I do hate to break promises so I stumbled on over here tonight in my fog of returning-to-work fatigue to keep my word to y'all.

Is this not the most perfect signage for a diva's boudoir entrance? I most certainly think so!
Now, there's a part of me that, while standing in the store viewing this marvelous find, did consider that this was perhaps apt signage for the room of a tiny baby girl and not a full grown gal like myself. But leave it to Hubs to rationalize it for me, telling me that it's perfect for me and that it was most certainly made for me, and therefore I must get it. Lord love a husband who'll make shopping a remorse free cake walk.

Anywoo, hope you like it as much as I do. It really does add that certain je ne sais quois to our new home. Or should I say castle?

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Greetings from the other side...

Well hello! It sure has been a while...this whole moving thing really does take you away from the important things in life, like blogging. Hehe. But to answer the pressing questions yes, I'm just fine, alive and well, and no, Hubs and I haven't yet christened every room in the new house. I know you were thinking it, so I thought I'd put it out there.

We've been insanely busy over the past few days. We've made great progress but there's still soooo much left to be done. The original homeowners took relatively good care of the place, but never did a thing to upgrade even the most basic elements. Except the showerhead in the master bath - they put a better single stream showerhead on. Whopdie freakin do.

We, on the other hand, have now spent hours and the equivalent of the GDP of a small country on upgrades like brushed nickel doorknobs, new light fixtures, hardware for all the cupboards, new mirrors for the powder room and my vanity area, new drapes and rods...you name it, we've swapped it out for something just that much nicer. In our most humble opinion, of course.

Hubs is back to work tomorrow while I take one more day to get adjusted and rest up a bit. Which of course means I'll work like a dog again during the day, putting up pictures, drilling into tile to put up the new bowed shower curtain rod in the other bathroom (did I mention I'm a diva who loves powertools??) and if I get reallllly ambitious, I might even put together DeeDee's new bed. But I don't know if I'll have that much in me...we shall see. We do have to get it done in the next few days as she's with us next weekend. And the poor kid needs a place to sleep, ya know?

A few quirks about a new place...first, the creaks. Hubs was out today with my brother in law doing geeks know what so I had my first real spell of time in the house by myself. And it was kinda creepy how things just kinda creaked and cracked when I least expected it. Should be really entertaining when Hubs has to go to New Jersey next weekend and I have to sleep in the place all by myself. Sure as hell not used to that! Dag, what's a diva to do? Anyone wanna come and sleep over to keep the creaks away? Oh well it could be worse...it could be ME having to make a trip to Jersey *shudder*.

Other quirks - the carpet in here really messes things up. We have to shim up every piece of furniture in the joint, something I never had to do in my hardwood years. Just very strange. Our new armoire, for example, almost fell over when we tried to put clothes in it. Not good - kinda defeats the purpose, you know? Yeesh.

And my favourite quirk thus far - our compost bin. I'm used to the whole green bin thing from my days in the big city. But things are different here in the 'burbs. There are special bags you have to use, ones that are made of biodegradable materials and that break down so quickly, you have to keep them in the fridge. Wow. We were told that out here, when you move you're supposed to take your bins with you, that new residents are to go and pick up new bins, etc. Imagine our surprise and small degree of delight to find a mini green bin already installed in a cabinet under our sink. Score - one less thing to take care of.

Except it stinks. Like old egg salad sandwiches. Sulfur delight.

It's been bugging me all day. I've been sniffing around like a mad fool, trying to figure out where this damned awful smell is coming from. And then tonight, good green Hubs goes to put something in the green bin and dang - a huge whiff of eggy goodness assaults my olfactory senses. Man...definitely making a trip to the ole recycling place to get us a new green bin. Can't handle the smell much longer.

So those are my ramblings for the day. As you can tell, I'm temporarily trapped in a twisted domestic time warp but fret not my lovlies, this too shall pass. I'll be back to my full fledged diva self in no time. Hell, I put on lipstick and perfume on today for the first time in five days, so that's most certainly a step in the right direction.

Tomorrow I'll try to post some photos of the progress thus far. I felt compelled to wait until I'm as close to perfection as possible (ie boxes out of rooms, everything tastefully displayed) but alas, I realize the house will be a continuous work in progress, so I'll cut myself some slack. If nothing else, I'll be sure to post the new decorative feature that now adorns the space above our bedroom door - so very perfect for me and my little bloggie here. I most certainly hope you'll approve.

Until then, have a good sleep and I'll be back to blog again tomorrow - complete with photographic evidence!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Last night...

Yep, it's finally here! Almost. Moving day!! I can't freakin believe it. Two and a half months since we signed on the dotted line, and we're finally actually moving in tomorrow. I've made my lists, checked them twice, confirmed both the movers and the Leon's delivery (new mattress....oooohhhhh, new mattress), and virtually everything we own is in a box or tote of some kind. Yee freaking haw.

Our last day as urban dwellers. Somewhat strange. A part of me thinks the 26 year old version of yours truly would be laughing my ass off at our move to the 'burbs. Back then I was all Sex and the City watching, Cosmo drinking, club hopping, single girl in the big city making her way and loving every minute of it. Now, I have a mortgage, a 2200 square foot home, and I'll be taking a commuter train to work every day. I used to cringe when my married friends started talking about fixed versus variable, the merits of this or that minivan, and what home inspector to go with. Now, I AM those people...and I'm loving every second of it.

On a completely unrelated note, hope you all had or have been having a good Valentine's Day. As mentioned earlier I haven't traditionally been a fan but today was a good day, all around. My lovely pink bag, for those whose curiosity has been piqued since yesterday, contained a beautiful pink (surprise!) and silver Fossil watch and a box of Godiva chocolates. What a sweetheart! My guy knows me, that is for sure! The chocolates are long gone, but I can't wait to wear the new watch tomorrow and for many more tomorrows to come.

My apologies for the short entry today, but I seriously don't have much left in the proverbial tank. Everything aches, Hubs is lying on my lap, exhausted, trying madly to stay awake to see the ending of The Fly and I'm determined to have one last cup of decaf from the Tassimo before I pack her up and ship her off. So I think I'll go do that, then shut down the iBook and place it back in her box for safe transport to the house. Gotta keep the iBook in good health so I can live to blog another day.

Speaking of which, I may have to skip an entry tomorrow, depending on how efficient Rogers is when they come to set everything up. Don't hold your breath, my diva friends. But I suppose anything is possible. Internet installation aside, I may simply be too wiped to muse about the insanity of the day, especially since we have to be up ridiculously early to begin the process.

Goodie.

So until next time my lovely ladies, stay warm, wear your winter boots, and make sure everyone can still see your diva under all those layers.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

It's the eve of VD...

and the countdown is on! Not to Valentine's Day per se...although I will shamelessly admit that I am looking forward to it this year. Funny, this is only the second time I've celebrated the grand VD with Hubs - we 'broke up' the day before in what was our first year dating. Nice eh? But that's long in the past, completely forgotten. Can't you tell? Hehe....no seriously. It's allll good now, and that's what counts.

Where was I? Actually being able to celebrate VD is relatively new to Hubs too. While he was in a long term relationship with Sludge, she didn't celebrate the day because she spent it in mourning for her niece that died on that day. Totally understandable, actually - not exactly cause for celebration in anyone's books.

So the whole VD celebration thing was new to both of us, really. Last year he took me out for a beautiful romantic dinner and this year - we're up to our elbows in cardboard, tape and dust. No big romantic dining experiences in our immediate future, but this diva is willing to sacrifice being wined and dined for the big move into our new home. We can always go for dinner this weekend or something and celebrate in style when there's lots to celebrate - and the dinner itself is half the price and you don't necessarily need a stinkin reservation.

He is driving me crazy though by taunting me with my pressie. It's currently sitting in a beautiful pink bag on top of the now bare entertainment unit. I think watching me sweat as I'm forced to wait until tomorrow is sweet sweet pleasure for him. My presents for him are sitting in a plastic bag in our bedroom, patiently awaiting assembly. Yes, I've been a trifle preoccupied these days, and the VD pressie hunt has unfortunately been relegated to back of the bus status. I know he'll like what I got him, but I still feel that I didn't really have enough time to put my true heart and soul into the search for the perfect giftie. And that makes me a wee bit sad, but I'll get over it once I see the smile on his face from the card, his favourite chocolates, the stuffed gorilla and car magazine subscription I got for him. All small things but good ones, I reckon. Hopefully he reckons right along with me!

So how about this snow? Yeesh! We haven't even been hit nearly as badly as so many of the lakeshore communities, but dag. That's some serious snow. Figures it would happen right as I go on holidays to move. Here's my question - if it is a snow day tomorrow and my workplace closes, does my already booked off day still count as a vacation day, or should I push to have it re-coded? I'm heading for re-coding, but realize of course that I'm getting waaay ahead of myself...it's not even bedtime yet! Always the planner I am. But seriously, I could really use that day back if snow does shut the universe down - I'd much rather make good use of it one long weekend in the summer, ya know? We shall see, we shall see.

Figures that it's snowing like crazy today and tomorrow. We still have our storage closet, dishes, glassware, and clothes to pack. And you'll never guess what - we're out of boxes. Yep, that's right. Out of boxes. Just like I said we would be. Even though Hubs brought more from work today and actually went to buy a whole whack of them - we're out.

So now we have to venture out in the aforementioned (that's for you, Leanne) snowstorm to wrassle up some cardboard. Good times...can you think of anything more romantic for Valentine's day? I thought not.

But in the long run it's all a means to an end. Hard to believe that this is our second last sleep in this apartment. Giggles and Stompy were really whooping it up tonight around 9 - in clonky heels and everything, clicking around, up and down the stairs, and then they went out. How anyone could survive snow like this in the kind of footwear they had to be sporting to make all that noise is beyond me. But in a mere 33 more hours, none of their bull will mean a damned thing to me. And I like it juuuust fine.

I'm sleepy again today - very busy days at work, trying to cram a week's worth of stuff into two days does tax the brain and the daily schedule, but I survived and got what needing doing done. So now I can sleep and pack and trudge through snow and yes, maybe even watch a bit of trashy tv with a guilt free conscience. And the best part - my fantastic hubby is right here with me.

What a guy - he just looked at the clock, looked at me, and said Happy Valentine's Day (it's currently 12:21 am). So cute. Smoochy smoochy and all that, then he says, do you want your present now? Uh, yeah! But no, I'll hold on until morning. A diva should attempt to display patience and restraint every once in a while. Keeps 'em guessing and wondering what the hell you're up to.

But in all sincerity I can and must wait for morning - 'cause his present isn't ready to go yet! Damned competing priorities! So now, while he finishes his boxing round on the xbox, I'm gonna go get everything assembled so it'll be ready come morning. Anything to speed up getting that pretty pink bag into my hot little hands!

Happy VD, everyone! May your day be filled with all good things. Like chocolate. And/or whatever else makes you happy.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

A mishmash of thoughts...

Forgive my ramblings today - yes, that's right, I'm apologizing in advance for what I know will be quite the scattered post before I even start writing it in earnest. It's been that kind of day! First, it's Monday, and we all know how I feel about Mondays. Second, I'm still exhausted from sleeping on the aforementioned crappy mattress. Third, work is crazy busy as I'm trying to cram a week's worth of work into today and tomorrow so I can actually rest my brain while we're moving, unpacking, etc. Fourth, I'm still in a good degree of physical pain from that painting stint, which always factors nicely into any equation. Fifth, I'm beginning to seriously stress out because we don't have enough boxes to complete our packing, and even though we have all of Wednesday to finish up, we're supposed to be up to our collective nipples in snow that day, which kinda makes the box run to the liquor store all that much more challenging.

Of course, the more stressed I get about these things, the more Hubs tries to calm me down and keep me 'grounded'. I swear, if he says 'you have to relax' one more time, I'm going to kick him in the nads. It's almost become a joke now in fact, since I pretty much told him not to say it to me anymore lest he desires tender testicles, so now he says it with a giggle and a protective hand over his crotch. Grrr....

He just doesn't understand my need to plan these things in advance. I like to evaluate a situation, decide how best to get us through it, then go that route. For example, today after work if I had my way, we would have gone to a moving supplies store (conveniently there's one less than five minutes away from here) to pick up an assortment of boxes for our packing pleasure. I mentioned as much to Hubs in an email earlier today but by the time I finally convinced him this might be a good idea (well after I got home - and hour later, I'd estimate) the store had already been closed for half an hour. Boooo....

He has an alternative, of course. I'll give him that much credit - when things derail (according to my tracks, that is) he has an uncanny ability to find a way to bring the train safely into the station. It might be late, it might be falling apart and all the seats in first class may be full...but at the end of the ride you still arrive at your destination relatively unscathed.

So the plan is for him to go out tomorrow and get the cursed boxes. Normally we've been getting our boxes for free from his workplace, but apparently there were slim pickings today. Here's hoping tomorrow's crop has a higher yield - I estimate we'll need another 30 boxes to get ourselves fully packed and ready to flee our downtown abode.

I just want it all to be over now. For the next three days to just blaze by in the equivalent of a mild sedative induced stupor (note: I have no idea what that's really like nor am I advocating abuse of medication by any stretch of the imagination - I just think it sounds like a great way to get through the fun that is a move). Since that's not really possible, I'm just going to have to suck it up and get down to business.

But let me tell you one thing - once the house is relatively unpacked and in a satisfactory state of being, my first order of business is to track and hunt a nice spa near our new home. This diva is jonesin for a mani/pedi/massage combo like a junkie needs her smack. Seriously - if you could have seen me this past weekend in my gray sweat pants, ripped and paint stained t-shirt, with bad non-styled hair and no lipstick, you might have canceled your subscription to my blog altogether. Made me trade in my tiara for a foam and mesh John Deere hat.

But fret not - this too shall pass. The manual labour is coming to an end, and I can get back to my 'real' life of diva splendor. Until it comes time for the first cleaning of the house. Now that we have twice as much space, there's twice as much space to clean. Hmmmm....maybe I should have though this through some more....

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

PS Thanks to all who sympathized with my cat piss musings. I'm glad to hear I'm not alone in this regard. Well, glad for me, not for all of you who've also been through it as well. Hubs did the laundry the other day, and as a result of the comments on yesterday's post, I'm now concerned that the smell might not actually be out of the bedding as we'd hoped. One more thing to find out for good on Thursday! So many fun surprises to be had. Ta!

My kingdom for a comfy mattress..

Everything that hurt yesterday hurts twice as much today. The body is a marvel of biologic engineering, and today, mine is completely out of whack. I need a tune up, nay, a complete overhaul to get myself back into some semblance of shape so as to survive the week ahead.

Today we returned to the house and painted some more. I think we're pretty close to being done - just two of the bathrooms to go - and now the entire place looks so much better...and reeks of paint.

I'd show you pictures...but Hubs in his infinite wisdom brought the camera home last night, so we thus far we have but before shots, and no afters. Ugh. And since we won't be back in the place until moving day - Thursday, woo hoo!! - no snaps until then. So sorry to disappoint, dear and patient readers! But I promise you, photos of the transformation are most definitely on their way.

So now I'm attempting to blog my day into the history books before I can hit the proverbial hay. It's a fine line - I'm soooo sleepy, but I want to spend the minimum amount of time necessary to get through the day tomorrow in our current bed.

You see, our current mattress is not the greatest, hence why we're getting a completely new set delivered to our new abode on moving day from our friendly neighbourhood Leon's store. In order to lessen the impact of spring on spine from current mattress, a few months ago we purchased a big, fluffy, mattress pad - seriously, six inches thick and comfy as hell. Made sleeping on our mattress somewhat doable.

As long as you could get past the burial plot look it made of our bed, that is. The puffiness had no choice but to form to the shape of our respective bodies, so if you were looking at the bed from any type of angle, you'd see two deep and somewhat eerie indentations where our bodies would be while we're sleeping. Fine for slumber time - downright creepy the rest of the time. But again, I digress.

This all has a point, I promise.

So, last night after painting, we finally return to the apartment tired, grimy and sore. Hubs immediately proceeds to our bedroom to change his clothes and as he opens the door, out pads our massive tabby cat Maxx. Eek! He'd been shut in our bedroom since Friday at about 8:30 am - and it was 10pm Saturday. We do a quick survey and say a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn't voided his feline bladder or bowels on our beautiful brown and blue duvet cover - protecting it is half of the reason we close the damned door every day as it is.

I'm so excited at the prospect of bed I even blog about it, then I proceed to shuffle my way to our bedroom to slip away to blissful sleepland. Grunting and groaning with every step, I pull the covers back, fall down onto the bed, and put my head down on the glorious pillow.

And my neck comes into contact with a huge puddle of cat piss.

Yes, cat piss. Apparently, we did not notice this spot (and it's accompanying smell) on our first pass following the great release. I could have cried. It soaked through the duvet cover, the duvet, the sheets (both flat and fitted) the hugely puffy mattress pad thingy, and yes, even down into the freaking craptastic mattress itself.

Since we're moving, all of our linens are packed. In boxes, in the spare room. We have no spare sets of sheets anywhere - and I can't sleep inhaling pee pee smells, so what the hell are we going to do? Our coping skills are non-existent at best and all I want to do is lay my weeping bones to rest. We both sit there on the edge of the bed for a minute or two, not sure at all what to do next.

Finally we get up, strip the bed, and head to the spare room to unearth something worth sleeping on. At this point, I'm ready to pass out on towels laid out on our now flipped mattress - I simply haven't the energy for any serious digging.

I must have done something good this week, because a not-yet-taped box of linens was easily stumbled upon and held a bounty of riches, including a fitted sheet and queen comforter. That was all we needed to see. Finally, finally, it was off to bed.

Right back onto that spine crushing mattress. Couldn't have picked a worse time to piss on the mattress pad, Maxx. Then again, is there ever a good time for mattress pad pissing? I think not.

The saving grace of this saga is that we were able to take our kitty soiled linens to our new home and wash them all in the glorious space that is our second floor laundry room. And what a concept - no loonies or quarters required! So now our bedding is completely cleaned, pee free, folded and at the house, ready and waiting for our new mattress to arrive on Thursday.

I guess every cloud of cat piss has a silver lining after all.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Ouch

Can't blog. Painting hurts. Every single muscle in my body is giving me shit, cursing my name. We've been going non stop for a day and a half - and we have to go back tomorrow. Booooo.....

Had lots of help from friends and family who totally rock, don't know where we'd be without them.

But for now all this diva wants is a shower and my bed. And cuddles with Hubs.
I'll be back tomorrow (hopefully) with an update and, if I can muster, a photo or two of our freshly painted domestic masterpieces.

Til then, this is all the daily dash this diva has in her. How's your diva doin'?

Boys are funny creatures

Let me first say that I have been around boys all my life. Who hasn't, really, but what I'm trying to say is that I've had boys as my friends for a good portion of my adolescence and into my 20's. Boys are fun to be friends with - and contrary to what Billy Crystal postulated in When Harry Met Sally, boys and girls truly can be friends without the sex getting in the way, in my experience. And this is especially true when the boy friends are gay.

One of my best friends in high school was a guy. Sure, I had a mad crush on him for years, took his picture with me when I had to travel to my grandparents house for the weekend, and read waaaaay more into the fake gold earrings he got me from Towers for Christmas one year than I should have. When I finally realized that we were not meant to be dating - ever - (coincidentally around the same time he started dating my OTHER best friend) life got a lot easier to eek through. And there was one less photo in my wallet.

Since then, my best friend, the one person who I believed would be my Man of Honour at my wedding, has pretty much dropped off the face of the earth. He moved to Halifax shortly after we finished university (although we'd started to drift apart during the uni years anyway), came out of the closet, started to experiment with recreational pharmaceuticals...and pretty much forgot that I even existed.

I tried to keep in touch. Well, for a while I tried anyway. Then email came along which should have made both of our lives sooo much easier - but alas, was not to be. Needless to say he wasn't the Man of Honour at our wedding. In fact, he never showed - I had to hunt him down to even get the RSVP in the first place. And now another friend tells me he's moved to Ottawa and she bumped into him on the street. So strange to think that he's completely out of my life - we were BFF and no one was going to change that. Ever.

I've heard it said before that friends come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. I LOVE this quote, mostly because it means that there will be a constant stream of people flooding in and out of my life, making it as fabulous as I want it to be. He was a season friend I suppose. One I believed for years would be there for a lifetime and beyond, but to my great chagrin, not so much. I'm over it now, really I am - but especially as we're packing and purging, I'll come upon photos of the two of us and wonder how we lost track, what he's doing now, and how the hell can he possibly survive without my fabulousness in his life? The mind boggles.

Hubs is a completely different animal than I. And I don't just mean in the male sense of the word.

Hubs has a small number of friends, but they've been the very best of friends their entire lives. Since grade three. They've got HISTORY. And it's quite cool to see, I must say.

Hubs tells me stories of spending endless hours at Taco's place when they were kids. They went to the same school, lived around the corner from one another, and got up to all sorts of little boy trouble together.

And they're still fantastic friends. Even after all these years, Taco is a staple in Hubs' life - and it's actually quite cute to see them 'play' together, even at the advanced age of 35. In fact, Taco is over this evening, pulling Hubs away from the much more important task at hand - packing. But I'll forgive him, because in truth they don't get to spend that much time together, and who am I to deny my man his boy time? He doesn't drink beer and scratch himself, force the entire household to watch football or demand that I as the little wifey make sandwiches and cocktail weenies. And at least I can blog with nary an interruption.

It's fascinating watching them interact. They are so serious, reviewing the cars Hubs has bought/won in Forza for XBox 360. Spouting stats about the number of races each car has won, how much this Porsche weighs, and the absolute best, my number one giggle of the night - talking about how cool it is that they can go in and put decals on their cars to dress them up. Hubs was really proud of the skull decal on one of the cars in his garage. Sweet.

Poor Hubs tries to talk to me about all of these things in Taco's absence and my eyes glaze over before you can say torque. But I do my best to humour him because I know Taco can't be here all the time, and he has to blow this stuff out his mouth hole or else the poor guy might explode. Hopefully having Taco here tonight will give him the elephantine dose of quality male time he needs and deserves. Cause hell - friends really can make or break your quality of life, and I must say I'm quite happy Hubs has had Taco play a leading role in his for the past 27 years.

Boys are funny creatures - as friends, more than friends, friends with benefits, boyfriends, fiances, and husbands. And watching these two men sit on our couch and play video games, I can almost see them as the boys they were when the first started hangin out. So cute! Such geeks, but cute.

And now here I am, in all my diva glory, jotting down these thoughts for you, my faithful reader, as my geek for life husband swears his face off because some car just virtually ran him off the road.

These are the moments, ladies. Cherish them - and giggle with me as I reminisce and compare the boys of yore to the one I chose to spend the rest of my life with. I really, truly miss my high school friend - but I wouldn't trade Hubs (and his faithful sidekick Taco) for any other boy in the world.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

There are a few things I'll miss....

As of tomorrow, we're one week away from moving day. Very exciting, I must admit. Hard to believe at the same time, but mostly I can't freakin wait to be out of here.

Having said that, I must admit that there are a few things I'll miss about this place I've called home for the past seven years. One - proximity to work. Half an hour, door to desk, even on a bad day. As much as I bitch and complain about the TTC (and I do it sooooo well and for very good reason) I will miss the simple fact that if I miss a train, another will be by momentarily to whisk me away to work. Not so with the GO train....but I am looking forward to actually getting a seat, traveling above ground, and the blissful sense of quiet that is the polar opposite of our friendly subway.

What else will I miss? Let's see...Pad Thai and Pineapple Chicken from Royal Thai Gardens. Sooooo good, and not too expensive. I've ordered from them for years, and there's no way they deliver where we're headed. I had a craving tonight, so we placed our final order from them and wished our delivery guy the best of luck. He was very sad to hear we were going and no wonder - I'm sure over the years I've given them enough to send a child or two to university. They should name a scholarship after me or something - the Diva Pad Thai Scholarship for Kids of the Restaurant Owners. Has a nice ring to it. Kinda like the Zoolander School for Kids Who Can't Read Good...ah, the legacies we leave.

The last thing I'll miss is the darkness of our bedroom. I know that might sound rather ridiculous, but I've become quite accustomed to the virtual pitch blackedness of the space - the benefit of houses being close together and no real light ever permeating the space. When we slip into bed at night, once I've draped something over the LED display of our respective alarm clocks, you cannot see an inch in front of your face.

And it's absolutely glorious. I slip into slumber with nary a beam of light to distract me. I don't think we'll get that at the new place.

There's always a chance of course, but since there's nothing of a structural nature blocking our bedroom window - our EAST facing bedroom window, booooooooo - I'm seriously doubting I'll ever again replicate the beautiful blackness I've been spoiled with all these years.

Guess the three bathrooms, four bedrooms, storage galore, open concept kitchen, separate living and dining room and garage will have to valiantly attempt to make up for the darkness. Worth a try! I know one thing - I'm certainly up to testing the theory.

Everyone asks if I'm sad to leave the current place and my response is always a quick and emphatic 'no'. But as the actual departure date draws nearer, should I be asked the question again I might pause a bit, thinking of these things I'll miss. But let me tell you what - the answer itself will never waver for a second. I can't fu(king wait to get the hell outta here and into OUR home.

Especially once it's all painted and prettied - a palace transformed. Then, and only then, will it truly be worthy of this diva and her fabulous husband.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Today was my 'one of those days' days

Now before you jump to frettin', nothing abjectly terrible happened...it was just one of those days. I pulled myself out of bed via sheer force of will - and the knowledge that there were going to be 8 people sitting around a table waiting for me at 8:30, give or take - bundled myself up and headed out into the freezing cold.

I've mentioned before that I take the subway/public transit to work on a daily basis. We do have a car that Hubs takes to work every day because he does a lot of driving around during the day, and his work simply isn't anywhere near as accessible to transit as mine. But on days like today, I envy him. Envy him sitting in an increasingly warm car with no smelly, sniffling people pressing up against him or not moving out of the way when he opens the door to get in.

I envy him because when a full bus passes him by, it's no big deal. When a full bus passes ME by, I have to stand outside in the freezing cold even longer, or hightail it down the street and walk to the station. The colder I get, the more I allow myself to be taken overy by the green monster of jealousy thinking of him all warm on his morning trip to work.

Meanwhile, I'm freeezing my sweet bippies off and hauling ass to hop on the Better Way. Just so I can rub elbows with crazy sick people who rub their slimy hands on the very pole I'm holding on to for stability. As the train screeches to a halt between stations and just sits there. In the dark. Not moving. As my meeting time draws nearer and nearer. While Hubs is already at work, 'cause our car gets him there that much faster.

I'm a lucky, lucky gal.

Public transit aside, I make it to work on time, the meeting goes well, everyone's happy, back to the office I go. Then it's into another meeting where, well, I have to get a bit defensive on the job front. You see, with all the stuff going on with the house closing, etc, I forgot to brief the big boss on the substance of this morning's meeting, which he was attending. All got worked out because I'm addicted to the Crack (CrackBerry, that is) so I answered my phone yesterday while standing in my new kitchen because I knew it was the office calling. While I was on a vacation day. But I answered it because I knew they were calling for a reason, we dealt with it, and all was fine.

But there are always ramifications. Gotta love consequences. As I said, all worked out just fine, but there's still that moment of discussing things with your supervisor that's never really fun - when you truly are in the wrong. So I fell on my sword, took responsibility ('cause it really was my fault - I forgot to do something, plain and simple) and apologized to those that had to deal with the fallout in my absence. Goodie.

I don't know about you, but I take my professional reputation very, very seriously. It's the one thing that I can truly call my own and take control over. You can look at me and judge me by my appearance etc (call me fat, tell me I have fabulous accessories - I've had much experience at both ends of the spectrum) and there's really nothing I can do about that. Empirically yes, I am fat (can I tell you how much I absolutely abhor that word? But I type it begrudgingly because as of yet there's no alternative that doesn't sound cheesy and self-serving) and yes, I do have fabulous accessories. Not much room for debate there.

But my professional reputation I can, by and large, control. It's up to me if I do a good job - no one else. And you know what? I'm dammed good at what I do. I don't have a problem saying it, typing it, shouting it from the rooftops - because I've worked very hard to get where I am and I know I'm doing the job that's meant for me.

So when I do something great - you bet your ass I own it. And when I fu(k up, I own it too. Then I learn from it, and move the hell on.

I have a terrible habit of getting mad at myself when I do things like this, but I try not to beat myself up too much. But this episode really put me into a bit of a funk - and it only got worse.

An hour later I got an email from our insurance broker telling me that I'd been denied my life insurance coverage. Awesome. How to really put some stank on the day.

It didn't get worse from there but it didn't get much better either. I kinda plugged away for the rest of the day, then shut 'er down right at 5 pm. So I could go back to the dank and dreary subway for my jolly trip home - how to end a day right. Especially since I knew Hubs was probably already at home after a nice drive in our warm car, sitting in his comfy clothes playing video games. While I shivered with the huddled masses.

Before you feel too sad for me my lovely diva friends, know that all was not lost. When I came home, popsicle-esque, Hubs was right at the door with a smile, a hug...and some pink roses. Awwww...such a good guy. They're currently sitting in a beer glass 'cause all the vases are packed - but they do make me smile every time I look up at them. And that's saying something, 'cause I was pretty pissy when I came home.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Paint ain't cheap.

Not when you buy it in insane quantities, that is. 15 gallons of paint, six gallons of primer, and two quarts of colour for the bathrooms. Add to that the rollers, drop cloths, trays, poles, edgers, paint, brushes and everything else, and all of the sudden $680 up and disappears from your bank account. Thanks to a very generous group of in-laws (snaps to the in-laws!!) that $680 only hurt like $430 does. But that still leaves a welt on the wallet when it's all said and done.

One thing I know - the paint is going to make a huge difference in the general look and feel of the house. Our house - yes, officially our house!! So exciting! We finally managed to get the keys around 3pm, then it was off to the house to select the last of our colours. In the end, there will be 9 new colours going into the place - can you believe it? Insanity...can't wait to see how it all shakes out.

Fortunately we've got 14 of our closest and dearest friends and family members stopping by this weekend to aid us in our redecorating. As the paint itself cost a pretty penny, there's no way I'm springing for actual professionals to come in and make it happen. Every diva has their limit - and that's mine. But don't worry, I won't have to turn in my diva membership card just yet. I'm still not crazy enough to clean the apartment we're vacating once moving day rolls around, so I'm leaving the truly dirty work to the professionals. Some things are worth every penny you spend, and in this diva's mind, cleaning suuuuure is one of them.

I'm quite exhausted today, so I apologize that I can't blog for too long this evening. It's been quite the day, and there's still 24 to watch. Sigh...so much on the agenda for one evening. Then I have to be up early to host some folks at work at the ripe hour of 8:30 am. Not too brutal, but sure ain't 9, ya know? Especially since I'm sleepy like you'd never believe.

Anywho, I feel like I'm all over the map today, so I'll simply choose to bid you all a fond adieu for today, and hopefully be back to write something more interesting or witty after a bit more sleep and a regular work day. Thanks to all who have wished me well with the closing - it all went off without a hitch. The hitchless happenings could have been earlier on, that might have made life a bit less hectic on this fine, freezing, blustery February day, but all in all I really shouldn't complain.

Oh, and for those of you who felt my kitchen table pain, I'm rather happy to report that we did manage to secure something suitable from none other than IKEA this very morning. Simple, cost effective, and in stock. Feel free to consult the visual below - we got the table and four chairs. I find it hilarious how small the chairs show up...honestly, they're not Smurf chairs or anything like that. They're waaay more than three apples high.



Enjoy 24, my diva friends, and I'll check back in tomorrow!!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Raw Deal...

If you 'know' me at all outside of this blog, you undoubtedly have heard me mention more than once my brush with the Canadian version of Deal or No Deal. I was one of those 115,000 Canucks that applied to be a contestant on the show. I somehow stumbled through three phone auditions, and the producers working on the Great White North edition decided that I was to be one of the lucky few brought in for a real, live audition.

So on December 5 of last year, I did my hair all straight and pretty, dressed up as though I was getting ready for my own personal Howiepalozza, grabbed my stuffed gorilla (will explain later), and headed down the the Royal York. At 7:30 in the morning.

Since by now you have more than an inkling as to how I feel about that time of day, you can imagine the challenge to be upbeat and perky for producers who would decide my fate. But I managed, knowing a lot was on the proverbial line....I could always crash later. When I got to work.

Now when you audition for this show, you're asked to bring your supporters with you. Guess it's not enough for them to judge you - you have to submit your friends, family members and spouse to be scrutinized as well. Lucky them! So Hubs and I hooked up with CJ and my sister early that morning, and took the elevator upstairs to await our fate.

Almost needless to say, my ragtag crew and I didn't make the cut, but we sure did have fun trying. They made you come with a one minute cheer or song and we had a pretty good time bastardizing Gwen's Hollaback Girl, turning it into I Ain't No Take The Deal Girl. Clever, eh? I sure thought so. As did Chip and Barbie, our panel of judges at the audition. But it simply wasn't enough. Sigh...

The question that continually tripped me up and, I believe, was the key to my undoing, was as follows: What makes you uniquely Canadian? Uh...whut? How is one supposed to answer that, I mean really? Well, I really like Canada, a lot, I'm very patriotic, but in the end, I don't think there's all that much that separates me from other Canadians, and that's the great thing about this show. You don't have to be brilliant, hell, you don't even have to know the price of soup. Anyone can play this game, but the people you really get behind are the ones that have outgoing, fantastic personalities. And I kinda thought that was me. I believed then and do today, that I'd be one of those folk people could really root for. No delusions of grandeur here ;).

After we did our little song and dance and answered all their questions, they shuffled us off to another room where we were to play a fake version of the game. They videotaped the entire thing (man, would I LOVE to get my hands on that tape, just to see how insane I looked) - and there was nothing intimidating about that! Yeesh. Actually, I was surprised at how quickly I forgot it was even there. Until I felt it necessary to ham it up every once in a while. Come on, every diva needs a few minutes of camera time!

They asked if I had a strategy for choosing my cases to which I simply replied no, I went with my gut. Then I propped Oo Oo (the aforementioned stuffed gorilla, my 'lucky charm') on the fake podium, and prepared to select my cases.

Going on gut, I went with number 18, and the game was on! Case after case I chose, and the offers just kept going up and up and up. It felt so unbelievably real, not to mention fantastic since that horseshoe up my ass really came through for me. By the end of it, I walked away with a 'deal' of $590,000, the highest of any person auditioning in Canada to date. But miracle of miracles (not that this one actually counted for anything), I had selected the million dollar case!!!!!

You should have seen my face when they virtually opened that case (we were playing along with the DVD - good times, I highly recommend it). Unreal! In my head I'd already spent a large portion of the $590,000 I'd 'won', especially since we'd put a successful offer in on a house the day before the audition. Oh hell yeah...in my head we had the house and were already sitting on a beach in Bora Bora with no one but us (and our cabin boy - someone had to make the pina coladas) for miles.

We all walked out feeling like we'd had a fantastic experience, and the whole thing was a lot of fun no matter what happened.

Yes, this is the attitude I chose to adopt, because at that point there was nothing more I could do. They'd either choose me, or not. Rather simple, and entirely out of my hands.

And apparently, they chose not. Alas. I worked really hard at not being disappointed about the outcome, and for the longest time it worked. The week they were taping was going to be a busy one at work, and it was good now that I didn't have to take an entire week off. Hubs is still relatively new at his job, so being away from the office is even more challenging for him. Etc etc etc.

I was doing really well, honestly I was. I didn't take it personally - I just figured that they were looking for iconic 'Canadians', and while I may be fabulous, there's not much iconic about me.

I was fine until tonight.

Did ya see the show? I mean really? Yep, I was fine until I saw the people that got to play in my stead. A firefighter for CFB something? Yep, guess that's Canadian enough. Too bad I didn't really care either way what happened to him and/or that he wasn't all that excited to be there. Humph.

Then there's CRAAAAZY Mountie chick. Bubbly? Hell yeah. A little too much like Mary Catherine Gallager in Superstar? Uh...yeah. As I watched I expected her to suddenly thrust her hands into her armpits, then just as abruptly bring them to her nose for a little sniff. Eek....

Poor mini Mountie has had a rough go of it thus far. She's knocked off some large amounts, and do I think there's a chance in hell she'll come anywhere close to my $590,000 banker's offer? To paraphrase the Magic 8 Ball, all signs point to no.

So now I'm kinda ticked, and saddened. A smidge. I'll get over it, but man, seeing the whole thing come together and me not standing there? Ouchie. Stings a wee bit. So what if I'm not a firefighter or a mountie? I'm a diva, dammit - doesn't that count for anything?

I'll keep watching - glutton for punishment, I suppose. Mostly I wanna see who they chose over me, and the countless others out there that were totally jonesin' to make it to the final round. They chose to go the No Diva route...and now I'll never get the chance to tell the banker off.

Unlesssssss...maybe I'll put a dig in tomorrow as we close the house. After I've signed all the documents, of course. I'm many things, but stupid ain't one of them.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Why oh why...

is it so hard to find a decent kitchen table?

Yes, this is the source of my frustration for today. And yes, there were other frustrating things that occurred during the course of this busy Saturday - having to pee into a very tiny cup for the medical portion of our life insurance quote, dealing with the freeeeeezing cold wind (is it spring yet?) and the impact it had on my already fragile coif, getting in and out of crowded parking lots in suburban-box-store-land, not being able to find a single thing in stock that we had made the trip expressly to purchase, almost driving our poor Kia into a ditch, old men who want beer but aren't allowed to drink, and walking up to a Royal Bank branch that had no bank machine. WTF? Glad all those service charges I'm paying are going towards keeping me from my money.

Despite all this, we had a fantastically productive day. Don't take me too seriously here with all my venting - while we did have frustrating moments, fortunately for us (and therefore everyone we came into contact with) good things happened too. We got to sign the papers for our new house; have breakfast at Denny's (yes, it takes a very strong and self-confident diva to admit her love of the Slams); visit with my sister, brother in law and nephew; and have dinner with Hubs' whole family to celebrate his parents' 49th wedding anniversary.

But try as we might, we simply could not find the fu(king kitchen table of our dreams.

We've been looking for weeks, nay months, for a simple table and chairs that will suit our needs. And we're not even being all that demanding to start off with! That's the truly frustrating part - if we were on the hunt for an oval mahogany table with six scroll-back chairs boasting a cornflower blue corduroy seat set, all for under $400, we might be facing an uphill battle. But noooooo....all we want is a simple table with four chairs in white or a light coloured wood (our felines take great pride in destroying all things fabric, so we've finally learned our lesson and are going solid wood. It only took two entire leather living room sets and six dining room chairs for it to sink in).

That's really all there is to it. It doesn't matter if it's round or rectangular or oval or square...we just need a godforsaken table. And we don't want to pay a fortune.

We've scoured Wal-Mart, Leon's, Zellers, Sears Home, JYSK, Superstore, Home Depot (you never know), IKEA (we may go back for a second look), United Furniture Warehouse, and The Brick. We are at our wit's end, and are absolutely flabbergasted that it could be this difficult to find something soooo simple.

I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman - I've got the money to spend, but no one will help me! Big mistake....big....HUGE! Ugh.

I'm a list person, always have been, and the fact that I simply cannot strike the 'buy table and chairs for kitchen' entry off of a now ancient list actually makes me lose sleep at night. Ridiculous? Sure. But what can I do? Also on that list are 'purchase DVD racks' (not one IKEA has the ones we want in stock), and 'get cabinet for powder room'. You know what's coming...the one we want is not in stock at JYSK, and there really aren't a huge number of those to flee to should the one you're standing in leave you wanting. Of course they have 10 or more of all the supplemental pieces that coordinate with the cabinet we seek (of course they do, and thanks SO much for throwing that fact in our face) - but we don't want/need/have space for any of those. So now we wait for the new shipment to come in - and cross our fingers that everyone else who's waiting for it doesn't get there before we do. Grrrrr..

Yet again, these frustrations are but a blip in this long road we call life. Yes, we'll survive without a kitchen table for a short while once we move in (as we do have a table in the dining room we won't be relegated to a lifetime of lap meals, heaven forbid). No, I don't think there's some major conspiracy to keep my magical, perfect kitchen set out of my life - I'm just not that big of a wack job.

I will say that I feel I've paid my dues and logged some very decent searching miles. As such, I've decided that this hunt is no longer fun or enjoyable - it's buy time. I refuse to waste any more of my precious diva energy on something that should have been rather easy to attend to.

So my friends, tonight this diva is mentally preparing to throw herself on the first suitable table she finds and bring it home with her. But this will be sooo much more than your average one night stand - here's hoping I can get a few years out of my conquest before it all falls apart or even worse - falls out of fashion. Wish me luck!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

A good start...

That's the punch line to a joke I never really found all the funny but today, it resonates. The joke? What do you call a hundred thousand lawyers at the bottom of the sea? A good start indeed.

I have friends that are lawyers, hell I wanted to BE a lawyer for most of my formative years, so I never really subscribed to this way of thinking. Fortunately my personal interactions with lawyers have been blissfully limited - we needed one to draft our wills and she was fabulous, and now we need one to facilitate the closing of our home purchase.

And he sucks.

Seriously, I'm so mad right I could spit nails, as mom used to say. Yes, I realize lawyers are busy people. Yes, I realize that if I call they may not be available to take said call at that very moment. And yes, I can even wait a day or two to get a callback from the message I left when they weren't available because they're very busy.

But I can't freaking stand being ignored. And it only adds insult to injury knowing that I'm paying him a handsome fee for the privilege.

You see, our house closes on Monday. As in three short days from now. When you purchase a home there are these fun incidental charges all wrapped up in a happy blanket called 'closing costs'. Sounds so cute and innocuous, yes? Anyway, these closing costs are a moving target at times, and the actual amount is not known until shortly before the closing date - a few days, a week at most. Understood. This is part of the process, so on we go.

In order to pay said closing costs, I am required to show up at the appointment with Mr. Neglectful (our lawyer) with a certified cheque for that moving target amount. In order to secure said cheque, I need the amount. I can only get the amount from Mr. Neglectful, and I need to be at the bank today to get said cheque in order to be ready for our Saturday morning appointment. Starting to see a nasty picture emerging here?

Shortly after our offer had been accepted, I received a letter from the offices of Neglectful, Rude & Incompetent telling me that they'd be in touch prior to the closing to fill in the gaps, set up an appointment, etc. Riiiight. Which is why when I never heard a peep from anyone at NR&I, I had to call them myself. Then wait for Mr. Neglectful to call me back. Then give him the info he needs, inquire about the appointment, and find out how much to make the cheque out for as I will be going to fetch it Friday afternoon. No problem, he assures me, I'm getting the info this afternoon (Tuesday) and will have a number to you shortly. He takes Hubs' full name as he needs it for the paperwork, and we're rolling.

We're rolling, we're slowing...and we're stopping. I don't hear back from him.

I do, however, get a call from his assistant asking me for Hubs' full name for the paperwork. Uh, I could have sworn I gave you that info already, but okay, here you go. Any word on the final costs? No...not yet. Waiting for paperwork. That you supposedly received yesterday.

At this point, I'm very confused. The iPod in my brain shuffles onto the theme from The Twilight Zone and I momentarily forget where I am. I'm looped into some evil deja vu, a been-there-done-that kinda thing. I shake my head, hang up the phone, and attempt to get back to work.

Days pass, and I have yet to hear anything. I call back, leave a very polite but somewhat urgent sounding voicemail for Mr. Neglectful, asking him to please call and a) confirm our appointment (there was some confusion over whether it would be Saturday or Monday) and b) provide me with the final amount. No return phone call.

And that brings us back to today. It's 11:45am and I am supposed to be making a quick lunchtime jaunt down to my friendly neighbourhood bank to get that all important bank draft. I have no amount, and it's almost lunch. I'm sure you understand my dilemma. I place another call, only to find out that both Mr. Neglectful and assistant to Neglectful are away from their desks, probably at lunch. Where I should be going soon. Hmmm....

So I leave an urgent message with the receptionist, explaining my position and she tells me there's nothing she can do - they're on lunch. Yeah, thanks for that. Understood. I simply attempt to impress up on her the importance of a quick callback as time was of the essence.

I hang up the phone, fuming. Ten minutes later the phone rings - and it's my real estate agent. We love him - he was great to work with. But he recommended this lawyer as we didn't have one. Poor guy made the mistake of asking me how things were going - oops! We all have those moments we wish we could take back - I'm sure asking me that question was his.

He was absolutely fantastic, said that's not the way it's supposed to be, he'll place a call, etc. Then HIS boss, the owner of the agency, calls to say the same thing. Impressive. Needless to say, I'll be sure to recommend the agent but not the freakin lawyer!

Anywho, it all worked itself out and I heard back from the lawyer in time to make it to the bank. But as you can likely tell, the entire experience left me rather frustrated, and I can't say that it's engendered much confidence in his abilities. I suppose we'll find out if everything's taken care of tomorrow when we get out there and sign everything away. And hand over that stinking cheque to pay him for the pleasure of doing business with him. Goodie for us!! Cross your diva fingers that it all goes well - otherwise I'll find a way to add Mr. Neglectful to that 'good start' at the bottom of the sea.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Divas love company...

I had a hard time deciding what to blog about today. A lot happened, but nothing actually called out or screamed 'write about me!' I was just about to dazzle you all with a disjointed post of disjointed ideas, a delightful melange of this and that...and my browser froze. I couldn't type a damned thing into the title window.

After a few deep breaths into my ever present paper bag I regained my composure, paused, crossed my fingers, and closed the browser window. I waited the requisite few seconds then opened her up again, a silent phrase of prayer running through my feeble brain (Giggles is at it again upstairs - playing the crappiest of music while we try to retire for the evening). Fortunately a split second later she reopened (the browser that is, not Giggles - ewwww), and my yahoo home page sprung to life. Sigh....sweet, sweet technology. Where would I be if I couldn't blog?! No, no...some thoughts are too difficult to process, the mind boggles and shuts down out of self preservation. Let's not take a mental trip down that scary, scary road, shall we?

Moving on...

As my happy yahoo browser's bright colours filled the screen, the following words of inspiration sprang from the screen:

The most desirable divas
Who would you pick as your fantasy girlfriend?

**I'd include the link to the original article but the link feature is failing me right now...tempted to make a 'boo technology' statement but I can't refute myself a mere two paragraphs later on in the same post**

OOOH!!! This is a question I could totally answer! I know who my diva girlfriends would be, no question! Thus today's blog post was spawned. Now, before I reveal to you my fantasy girlfriends, I must say that upon further review of the article (ie after I clicked on it) I was shocked and chagrined to notice that they weren't talking 'girlfriends' in the gal pal use of the word - they were referring to boy meets girl girlfriend. Boo... My excitement to view the ladies other gals would love to latte with vanished before my back button could return me to my previous state of elation.

But that doesn't mean I can't still tell you who would be on the membership roster of my very own diva posse!

Are you excited? Sitting in your chair, reading with sweet anticipation? Astounded at just how important knowing this rather trivial tidbit of information (in the grand scheme of things, anyway) has suddenly become? Okay, okay, I won't keep you in suspense any longer. You've been so good to me thus far, stuck with me through thick and thin - hell, you come back here to read my rambling missives on topics of no great import on a somewhat regular basis - so here we go.

My number one celebrity gal pal, given the choice of all the celebs in the known universe, is none other than Jann Arden. Surprised? I thought you might be. No, it's not Aretha or anyone of her pedigree (true divas all, but not at the top of my 'let's get shitfaced and talk about nothing' gal pal list). It's our down home Canadian gal Jann. We could pound back a shot or two and really have some great times, methinks.

I honestly believe, and I say this with the least amount of stalker-esque undertones possible, that we really could be very good friends were our diva paths ever to cross. She has a fantastic sense of humour (as I hope and, yeah, believe that I do), she's an incredible singer/songwriter (me singer yes, songwriter not a hope in hell), she's against Canada's participation in the middle eastern conflict but is totally behind the PEOPLE serving (as am I), and most importantly, she's not afraid to be who she is and say what's on her mind, consequences be damned. My philosophy exactly, as you may have been able to ascertain in reading a month's worth of my ramblings.

For those of you that may not be familiar with her or her music - you MUST head to www.jannarden.com before you can read any further.

I'll wait.....










Wasn't that awesome? Her new album is coming out Tuesday and tickets for her concert go on sale Monday, the same day as we take possession of our new house. Coincidence? I think not...

I'd love to even have a cup of jo with Jann. I'd like to think that I'd be all calm and normal-like, no big deal, she's just a regular person having a cup of coffee. With me. But I know I'd find a way to turn into a bumbling idiot and would probably say something un-diva-like until I hit my stride and got over myself. Alas...it would still be a kick ass experience.

Enough about Jann for today. I don't want her or her people to stumble upon my blog and add me to some high security watch list of crazy folk they need to protect her from. I'm a lover, not a stalker. I blog because I love.

** side note - yeah, like Jann or her clan actually sit around and troll the blogs looking for references to her or her work. Yeesh - talk about your inflated sense of self worth! But just in case - hi Jann! Coffee?? **

Anyhoodles, I can feel myself rambling more than usual tonight. Hubs is beside me in bed, snoring away, Giggles is rolling all around her room in that stupid rolling chair that I have secret daydreams of reducing to kindling, and they're about to do the weather on the local news - time for this diva to get some much needed beauty sleep.

Before I go, I'll add a few more names to my fantasy celebrity dinner party - my diva girls night in, if you will. Dinner for 8 sounds like a nice, round number!

Me
Jann
Drew Barrymore
Janeane Garofalo
Bridget Jones (not Renee Zeilweiger - Bridget Jones)
Cameron Diaz (as she was in The Sweetest Thing)
Christina Appelgate (ditto)
Jennifer Garner, Alias style

How the hell fun would that dinner party be??

And just 'cause I can (it's my blog, after all), here's a short list of gals who'd never make it past my front door because I can't freakin stand them:

Shakira
Sandra Bullock (only 'cause Hubs likes her too much - gotta protect my turf)
Tyra Banks
Mary Hart

I'm sure there are many, many more but that's all I've got in the tank at the moment.

So I now throw the question out to you, my lovely diva readers - who's your famous dream girl coffee date? Come on in and let me know who tops your list. And don't worry - I won't take offense if I don't see my own name there in print. We both know my seat at the table is a given.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?