Aren't I a crafty wee devil?

Was anyone else as excited for this weekend to finally be here as I was? I kinda doubt it. Not sure if it's the medication I'm on or the commute or just life itself, but come Friday afternoon I was ready to drop. Dead asleep. At my desk, on the train, in the car, standing in line at a store...sleepytime tea ain't got nothin' on me. I was ready for bed before I even left it.

A definite highlight of the day was a lunchtime excursion to drop off some goods to one of my fellow WB gals, Corrie. She's also on this crazy TTC journey too (that's trying to conceive, not the Toronto Transit Commission - although the conceiving part is just about as reliable as the transit part) and is now the proud owner of my double supply of Pre Seed. That's sperm friendly lube, for all you newbs out there. Helps the boys in their swim upstream as opposed to the regular stuff that kinda traps them in a molasses-like, slow motion 'noooooooooooooooooo' kinda thang.

Since Hubs and I have to go from regular practice-makes-perfect baby making straight to assistance with drugs and a turkey baster, we don't really have much need for the Pre Seed. And since it's rather stupid expensive AND hard to find, I'm more than happy to share the proverbial wealth with those that can make better use of it than I.

And thus, Corrie and I came to meet at a Starbucks on Friday at 12:30.

This was a big deal for her - her first foray out of anonymity on WB. Fortunately she recognized me and waved me over, and there we were - two recently married 30 something gals addicted to a message board, trying to get preggers before our the batteries in our biological clocks rendered them completely ineffective.

May I just say, what a lovely gal that Corrie is. She's one of the wonderfully positive folks on WB and that totally translates into 'real life'. She was kind enough to comp my latte (a sure way into this diva's heart) and hand over a wonderful thank you card for my role as the lube mule. Delightful.

We chatted for well over an hour until we looked at our watches and realized oops - it was time to get back to work. We said our goodbyes and off she walked, Holt's bag in hand (like I was going to do the swap in a Loblaw's bag??). I wish she and her husband the very best in their baby making attempts as they head up to their cottage for a week's vacation. Hope this is your turn, girlie!!

So yeah, that was the highlight of my Friday. Work went well, kept me busy, and at 4pm I packed it in and headed home on an earlier train. I just couldn't make it any longer!!!

Hubs was there to get me of course, and since we were close to the highway, I asked him if we could head over to every crafty person's crack house - Michael's.

You see, I'm kind of a closet crafty person. Not super crafty, mind you - you'll never find my wares for sale in any shows or boutiques, hell, you won't even find my stuff in any garage sale - but enough to take on a project here or there that I can throw out if need be once it's done.

I'd decided that it was too challenging to find a piece of art for our bedroom, so I said to myself, 'self, you're crafty enough to make a go of this. Buy a canvass and use the leftover bedroom paint so the colours will match perfectly. Go forth and make abstract art.'

I love it when I get all energized like this. Whether I follow through or not is a completely different animal, but what can you do? So that's tomorrow's project, since it's supposed to be all crappy and rainy I figure I might as well express myself by throwing paint at a canvass. Sounds like a plan!! Watch out, Jackson Pollack, I'm coming for you!

The remainder of our evening passed quickly. We watched Casino Royale (meh - not great in my opinion) then went to bed. Yep, asleep before 11pm. Glorious.

Saturday brought blissful relaxation and the need to go absolutely nowhere. Sigh...I love these weekends. The kinds of weekends I would envision to keep me sane during the planning of our wedding/preparing to move. And now we're here, and I couldn't be happier.

So today, we took some movies back, returned library books, and perused the shops of our new hood's 'downtown core'. There's this one shop called Dragonfly that I've passed a thousand times and have never been in, and I was determined that today would be the day. And when I'm determined, things happen. Yes, they most certainly do.

Our first stop was a huge scrapbooking store so I could procure some cardstock and a few nice pieces of paper to further another crafty outlet of mine - not scrapbooking, fooled you there!! - but card making.

If you're on WB, you know there are a number of girls that are very talented when it comes to making custom made cards. I'm.....not one of them. And now I have proof.

I didn't do a bad job, but I didn't blow myself away either. I may post pics at some point, but since the card is for a friend who I've heard reads this blog from time to time, I'd rather she see it first, in person, before y'all. I'm sure you understand. Someday, my pretties.

As for the rest of the shopping trip, I must say we had great success with Dragonfly. Hubs was kind enough to purchase a princess mug and jewelery holder for me (I'm soooo spoiled!!) and we also picked up a very cool clock for our kitchen, a funky tin star for the bedroom and a number of other little acoutrements for the house. Ah...shopping is awesome!!

So that's the weekend so far. Hubs is on the phone talking to his parents inviting them over for dinner tomorrow - news to me!! - and we're waiting for our pizza to get here so we can watch 'Kiss Kiss Bang Bang' before we bid this Saturday a fond farewell.

Hope you're all having a lovely weekend. May you enjoy whatever sun you get, and make the most of the clouds/rain should they come your way, nudge nudge, wink wink.

I have a feeling I know what Corrie will be doing!!! Hehehehehehehehe....

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

Just a little off the top...

Today was a glorious day - I shed at least two pounds. The fact that it was two pounds of hair be dammed - I'm lighter now than I was this morning and that's what matters! hehe.

This evening I got to spend some quality time with one of my favourite people on my list of divafying groomers. Nah, scratch that - one of my favourite people full stop. David, my smashing hairdresser (www.hairbydavid.ca).

Now before you rush out to book an appointment (because I know you all take what I say as gospel and can't WAIT to get out there for some bliss of your own), you should know that he's not taking new clients evenings or Saturdays, but if you can swing a daytime appointment - like 4pm even - he'll be sure to hook you up. Tell him the diva sent you. He'll know what you mean - he stops off here from time to time!!

David is a pure delight. He's done wonders with my mop and a visit to him is always an escape from the 'real world' that awaits outdoors. And the fact that you have to pass a Starbucks to get to his salon is merely lactaid latte icing on a wonderfully fattening cake.

He's fun, talented, talkative, and fab-u-lous, my sisters. He was there for my wedding without question, styled all the girls beautifully, even my mom and DeeDee, and make sure that I had bling glued into my hair for that extra bit of sparkle on my big day. *tear* - does he know me, or what? *sniff* And his partner Peter - love him, too. A godsend on the day of the wedding, he helped with all the setup and managed to get the pen mark off my wedding dress without me knowing it had ever been there. Miracle worker, truly.

I know what you're thinking. Yes, you read it right - I had wee rhinestones adhered to my wedding day do with eyelash glue. Wanna make something of it?

Didn't think so... ;)

This evening was quite lovely and extra calming as it was just David and I - we had the place all to ourselves. The music was a bit mellow (in contrast to our usual Whitney Houston singalong hour), the conversation a bit deeper (my struggles with trying to conceive, his growing up in a religious household), and the hair - well, the hair. Of course I look fabulous.

He managed to spruce up my colour (trying to get back to something approaching whatever my natural hair colour is supposed to be, 'cause if we do get preggers no more hair colouring for me), and gave me a right sassy cut to fling me into spring. Short at the back, longer in the front on a forward sloping angle. Brings out my cheekbones, apparently. Now that I've lost a bit of weight it would appear that my cheekbones are starting to make a resurgence. Cool beans.

All in all, we passed a delightful two hours together. Hard to believe that I have to go two months between these pampering sessions - I surely deserve so much more than these sporadic brushes with pure girlie pleasure.

Then again, my Visa sure does appreciate the rest.

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

Skin tag - I'm it

Well, another wild and exciting Wednesday has come and gone. What happened in my little world today - let's see, it was my first day on clomid (the happy pill that is supposed to make me ovulate - and bawl my face off at anything and everything), that miserable mofo Sanjaya is still on American Idol (could I BE any more pissed off!?!?!?), and I went to the doctor's office and had a miserable little skin tag removed from my neck/shoulder area.

Again, who wants to live my fabulous life??

So far so good with the clomid - no side effects to date, knock on wood, and though it's only day one, I'm hoping this good luck continues. As for the Sanjaya debacle, I don't even really want to talk about it. Okay well I do. Just a bit.

Let's simply say I'm so mad right now I could spit nails, to quote mom. Stupid American voting people. Grrr...... To top it all off, Hubs is delighted at this latest turn of events (the little bugger wasn't even in the bottom three) and I feel like if this keeps up, we'll be on the next Jerry Springer - "American Idol is ruining our marriage!!" Cue chair throwing here.

But by and large, the most fun of this regular, mundane Wednesday involved a wee bit of amputation. Goodie!

I have (I guess I should say had, now) a skin tag in that happy part of your body where your neck meets your shoulder. For those of you unaware of the fun that is skin tags, it's quite simply a strange extension of skin that sticks out somewhere on your body. Tiny, not dangerous in any way, completely innocuous, but a pain in the neck (literally) when the chain holding your lovely circle of life diamond pendant Hubs bought you for Christmas tries to strangle the life out of the little sucker. Or when hair wraps around it...and pulls. Ugh.

Wow...for some reason I'm making this all sound a little gross. Not sure how that happened, but alas. Here we all are.

Anyway, I was at the doctor last week for another matter and asked if it could easily be removed because it was catching on things and is quite noticeable now that my hair is shorter. They said sure thing, booked me for this afternoon, and we were good to go.

So I, the good, reliable, decent patient shows up not only on time but early. Don't want to waste a second of my doctor's precious time. How dedicated am I? I mean, really?

Too bad the good doctor doesn't share my sentiments.

I sat in that waiting room for 40 - count them, 40 - minutes. Thank goodness I had some excellent chick lit in my sassy A&F bag to keep me occupied, otherwise I would have been right bored, not to mention super ticked off sitting there for all that time.

So finally, FINALLY, my doc runs out, apologizes, and we're off.

Three and a half minutes later, I'm done. Walking towards the staircase. Whut? 40 minute wait for that? Yeesh.

Those three and a half minutes weren't too pleasant, I must say. Yes, I realize it's a wee little flap o' skin and not a full appendage but still....I was amazed at how much the local anaesthetic hurt going in.

No, I'm not a fan of needles, but I'm not inherently scared of them either. Hell, I prick my finger four times a day to test my blood sugar and shoot insulin into my belly every night - I can handle a needle stick.

But a burning prick jabbed into your neck? Not my idea of a fun way to spend 30 seconds! Ouch! I could feel tears burning my eyeballs and the whole time, all I could think was, 'why didn't they use the topical stuff? Why the needle? Why? WHY!?'

In all of my mental prep, I never thought they'd stick a freakin needle in me. I guess it's because I was thinking of the time we took DeeDee into the hospital to get her toe looked after and they put a topical solution on before they put a needle (two, actually) into her toe.

That's what I wanted, but no. Huge ouchie. I tell ya, I have new found respect for that kid and what she had to deal with during that whole toe thing.

Anyway, apparently I'm a big baby, but it's all done now. The freezing took effect, she snipped off the tag, on went the band aid, and I was finished. Insane.

I stopped off at the washroom on my way back to the office and laughed out loud at my reflection. I had a spot just larger than a pin head, and it was covered by the biggest band aid you've ever seen. Talk about overkill.

So I decided to use this to my comedic advantage. I got back to the office, and every time someone asked me what happened I'd just say 'vampires', and walk away. The looks on those faces were priceless. Kinda made up for the 40 minutes of waiting room boredom.

Ah, the mind. A terrible thing to waste on stupid humour.

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

American Idol at its worst

Okay, whether or not you watch the show, if you follow any form of entertainment news, by now you've heard of the great American Idol debacle featuring one 17 year old runt kid named Sanjaya.

Thanks to a ridiculous website, www.votefortheworst.com, this poor young sad excuse for a singer is trapped in the seventh circle of American Idol hell. That's right - he sucks soooo badly, they refuse to have him voted off.

Now, I'm not the greatest defender of the AI cultural phenomenon but hey, I like Kelly Clarkson (that's right - I said it) and there's no way I'd have two of her cd's loaded into my trusty pink iPod mini if it weren't for this pre-fab pop-star-making-machine.

So why do a bunch of morons go out there and ruin a relatively decent thing, for cripes sake? Getting people to vote for, quite frankly, one of the worst singers to ever make the top 12 - ever - in six seasons - since the dawn of time - just sucks the big one.

If I was one of the OTHER top 12 - someone that actually had talent there and made it for a reason - that got bumped, I'd be temped to find out the Chris guy that runs that website's address, show up on his door, and bitch slap that mofo. Ya know?

And what makes it all that much worse is that Howard Stern has jumped on the bandwagon of crap and is encouraging all of his listeners to vote for Sanjaya in droves. And they didn't just ask them to vote once - they ask their loyal fans to vote for the little twirp 100 times.

Each.

Damn him. I hate the fact that Hubs loves him and thinks this whole Sanjayagate is funny. Not me! I can't tell you how tempted I am to cancel our Sirius subscription right out from under him. See how he likes MY vote! Hehe. Nah, I could never do that to him. He's too good to me. But it doesn't mean I can't still hate Howard for this.

And I gotta say, don't you feel sorry for the kid? I mean you know it, I know it, hell, even he knows it! He just doesn't measure up. Every week he goes out there and just shows up, doesn't even really put much effort into the damned song. This week he forgot his words - and you can bet your sweet ass he'll still be standing after tomorrow night's vote.

This sucks. Yet again, something else I have no control over. How does this keep happening? My world is sliding out of control and god help us all...Howard Stern is at the wheel.

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

Don 'cha wish you were there...

Well, the concert has come and gone. A good time was had by all - and by all, I mean DeeDee and I. Yep, it all came together without as much as a single begging call, much to my great relief.

It's funny - this was the first time DeeDee and I had spent any alone time together. Usually there's the three of us, and Hubs is a comforting buffer between we two. Not that there's any real need for a buffer, don't get me wrong...it's just that she's with us to spend time with her Dad and I'm always along for the ride. This time, the tables were turned and Dad was left to sit at home and watch Rocky Balboa. Shame I missed that.

And that got me thinking, before we even left - what if it's awkward and there's nothing to talk about? What if she really doesn't want to be there with me but is going along because she wants to see the concert? And the worst - what if I really should have let her go with her mom because they listen to the music together (we do too, but still)?

I actually started feeling kinda nauseous, like I wasn't sure I'd done the right thing. I'd been so stubborn in my stance about me being the one to take her that I worried I hadn't thought the entire thing through. And then it hit me...

I'm going to be in this kid's life for...well, the rest of it, actually. And while I have no aspirations to replace her mother in her life, I do want to be there for her and for us to have experiences of our own. Not that they have to happen every weekend, but still - I realized that she needs to see me as a whole and separate person - not just her Daddy's new wife. So if this was to be our first foray into girl time, so be it.

The entire ride in to downtown I still had that nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach - something I'm really not used to, all things considered. I'm most often a quite confident diva, rarely questioning my decisions once made and barreling head first into life. This was uncharted territory for me! Especially since it took a while to get the conversation flowing in the car, so the first 12 kms or so we relied on Christina on cd to fill the empty space of the car.

We made it there, got parked, and headed into the ACC. I think she was a bit overwhelmed by the people, the sounds, the open space - everything! And who could blame her - the outfits worn by the pre-pubescent teens alone were enough to send me into sensory overload.

Our first stop was the souvenir stand so she could peruse the offerings and pick out a take home treat. I had to put my foot down and embargo the sweatshirts - when the swag costs more than the ticket sweetie, the answer is no. So we settled on a (gulp) $40 Christina ball cap and were on our way.

Diet Coke and popcorn procured, we trudged our way up, up, up to our seats. Yes, we were high. In fact, there were but two rows north of us. We almost succumbed to a bout of altitude sickness! Thankfully there were large screens, as always, to the side, so all was not lost.

The show itself was pretty darned good. DeeDee loved it...at first, I think she wasn't really sure how to behave - whether she could sing along, jump up and down, scream, or if she should just sit there. When the Pussycat Dolls came on she had a huge grin on her face which made all of the crap that got us there worth it. And as frustrated as she got during the marathon break between them and the main attraction, when that other diva gal took the stage, she was in heaven!!

She shook off all her inhibitions and, spurred on by the trio of tweens seated directly behind us and their ear splitting screams, decided that she wanted to lose her voice for school the next day as a badge of concert attending honour. Not sure if she succeeded in her quest, but she sure as hell did give it the ole college try.

And boy oh boy did she sing her heart out at times. The one song she really wanted to hear was Hurt - not sure if you're familiar with it, but if not here are the lyrics:


"Hurt"

Seems like it was yesterday when I saw your face
You told me how proud you were but I walked away
If only I knew what I know today

I would hold you in my arms
I would take the pain away
Thank you for all you've done
Forgive all your mistakes
There's nothing I wouldn't do
To hear your voice again
Sometimes I want to call you but I know you won't be there

I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do
And I've hurt myself by hurting you
Some days I feel broke inside but I won't admit
Sometimes I just want to hide 'cause it's you I miss
You know it's so hard to say goodbye when it comes to this

Would you tell me I was wrong?
Would you help me understand?
Are you looking down upon me?
Are you proud of who I am?
There's nothing I wouldn't do
To have just one more chance
To look into your eyes and see you looking back

I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do
And I've hurt myself
If I had just one more day, I would tell you how much that
I've missed you since you've been away

Oh, it's dangerous
It's so out of line to try to turn back time

I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do
And I've hurt myself

By hurting you

Any wonder this is one of Sludge's favourite songs, and therefore DeeDee's? Wow...poor kid. Not even really old enough to understand why her mom likes it so much, but what can you do. When CA sang it, DeeDee was singing her heart out like nothing I've ever seen before - much to the chagrin of the cranky pants sitting in front of us, but what can you do.

When it was all over, we made our way, cattle-like, to the car for our way home. Both of us pumped from the concert, the conversation flowed a little more freely and we discussed school, the fact that she and her mom are moving back in with her aunt...again...her mom's health; all the fun topics.

It took me a while, but I finally managed to squeeze out a sentence to tell her that if she ever needed to talk about anything that she didn't think she could talk to her mom OR dad about, that she was welcome to talk to me, that I understood what it was like to be in her shoes 'cause I was the kid in the middle when my parents split up. And she looked at me with a smile that yet again, made everything worth it.

Then she started opening up to me, and it was magic. Concert be damned, that moment was worth the price of the tickets, the parking, the popcorn and the ballcap. Times ten.

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

Today's quite the day...

Not only is it concert day (nope, haven't even had one begging phone call from Sludge - but the day is still young) but it's also the day that my lovely friend Aunt Flo made her much anticipated arrival.

Yes, I realize that for most of you, this is not a cause for celebration. If anything, it's a pain in the everything, you grin and bear it, and she leaves three to five days after she came, leaving you in relative peace for just over three glorious weeks.

Well, when you have polycystic ovary syndrome, it's like your aunt forgot your address...hell, it's more like she forgot you even existed! She rarely visits, and even if she does, it's because you sent her multiple reminders and coaxed her to your home with some high class drugs. Insanity.

I'm excited because, as you may well imagine, you can't get pregnant if you don't have a cycle because without the cycle there's no ovulation. No eggs = no babies. No little great nieces or nephews for Aunt Flo if she never shows. But she's here and from the look of things has no intention of leaving for the next few days, so lucky me gets to deal with all her crap, then move on to the next level of fun - more drugs.

That's right - from days three to seven of this happy cycle, I get to ingest 100mg of clomid, a drug that is designed to aid in ovulation. We'll get one of those eggies outta there, even if we have to coax it out by force!

This is my first cycle on this drug, and I've heard all sorts of fun stuff about the side effects - hot flashes, getting extra emotional, sensitivity to light...all sounds like so much fun, doesn't it? Just what I don't need - any extra help getting emotional! No thanks - we're all stocked up here!

In other weekend news, we watched Stranger Than Fiction yesterday, and I really enjoyed it. Will Ferrell actually did a great job at playing a tragic character. Snaps to him.

Then Hubs downloaded the demo of Tomb Raider for DeeDee to try on the xbox 360. So now we're all currently suffering, trying to figure out how to get past one stupid level. Damned video games. I hate not being able to solve these kinds of problems. Not that I'm even the one holding the stupid controller - I'm just trying to help determine where they should try next. Then I kick myself for getting involved because all of the sudden I can't let go until we solve it. Lesson learned - stay away from the tv when the kids are playing. Grrr...

So now I'm finishing this blog post, then I'm going to walk away from the television, grab one of the seven books I picked up at the library yesterday (yep, true capitulation to my suburban existence - but can I just say that we have a freakin incredible library in my new hood? Wowie.), and go enjoy the large two milk one sweetener Hubs just brought me back from Tim's.

At some point I'll decide to throw myself in the shower to begin preparations for this evening's festivities. Maybe I'll get lucky and will be mid-cleanse when the phone starts ringing and the pleading commences. One can only hope!!

I'll be back tomorrow to report on the concert and any fun activities that may precede it. Until then, enjoy the rest of the weekend, and wish DeeDee and I luck as we embark on our first girls event together!!

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

And now, she begs...

Wowie, what a few days it has been!! First, I want to say thanks for all the supportive words in response to yesterday's post - nice to have you all in my corner on this one! And now that I have a waiting list of seat fillers, I know that no matter what, the concert will be great fun.

Second, I'm blogging today on my (late) lunch hour whilst at work because I'm so bleepity bleepin' tired I can barely keep my eyes open. Which means if I don't blog now, there will be no blog for today. And I just can't bear to put you all through with-diva-drawl.

Third, the peacoat. There seems to be a lot of uncertainty as to what constitutes a peacoat, so please allow me to present you with a visual to crystallize your understanding. This is not a photo of my peacoat, no...in fact, my lovely fuchsia beauty is merely single breasted and as such, not a bona fide peacoat to you peacoat purists out there. But I'm sure you'll forgive me the hyperbole.

I couldn't find an image in fuchsia (neither my lunch break nor my patience is that long) so had to settle for red. I hope this image will resonate regardless. Lovely.

Now, back to yesterday.

As you know it started quite limply, with little fanfare or bright, shiny goodness. I'd like to reassure you all that it did, indeed improve...I simply hate the thought of you worrying about little ole me, so I hope you all breathe a sigh of relief now.

It got especially better once work was done for the day and I trekked down to the local Baton Rouge to sup with CJ. Delish. I had ribs and a baked potato - divine. Snaps to me for going with the baked potato as opposed to the fries I so desperately wanted, and for staying away from the dessert menu. I'm a freakin' saint.

After dinner there was still time to fill, so we perused the fine shops of the Eaton's Centre (including a quick stop at Shoppers where we bumped into Camilla to get meds for my 'tummy' issues - don't know what I ate or why this happened this time, but the prospect of sitting in a theatre unmedicated for almost three hours without reasonable access to a washroom simply didn't appeal to me).

Meds procured and ingested, we continued on our merry way and blissfully stumbled on the new Abercrombie and Fitch. The look on CJ's face was reminiscent of those silly Sprawl-Mart commercials where the woman has an expression of sheer bliss frozen on her face as she gazes in the direction of her bill. CJ's a fan of the A&F, and hadn't realized it had made its way north of the border.

Let the games begin.

In truth we weren't there that long, we couldn't be due to time constraints, but we both managed to make a purchase in our shopping blitzkrieg. She, being the cute, sporty physique girl (and she works hard to stay that way, so props to her, no disrespect intended) managed to snag a delightfully soft, pink (that's my girl!!) tank top, and was instantly in heaven.

I, being the cute, couch-y physique girl, bought a bag. 'Cause let's face it, even if this weight loss thing pans out, it'll be years before I can squeeze a mere limb of mine into any of their apparel. CJ and I believe their clothes, the bottoms especially, are designed exclusively for pre-pubescent girls (you know, the hipless wonders). So I leave with a bag and am happy!

Now, this photo truly does nothing for the bag. In real life, up close and personal, it's soooo much better. I can't wait to transfer all my worldly goods into it and ease it gently into my life on tomorrow's GO train ride in. Anticipation is so sweet.

Back to the show. Yes. So we went to see We Will Rock You, the Queen musical. I was never a massive Queen fan, but I do like the music and was curious to see where they'd go with this. AND the fact that sweet Suzie McNeil (from Rockstar INXS fame) was in it really appealed to the starfucker in me, so they basically had me by the short and curlies as soon as the ads starting appearing last year.

The vocal performances were very strong, that part was fab. Suzie rocked it out - she was absolutely incredible. The show itself....well. To borrow a line from Reality Bites, it was so cheesy I had to have crackers just to listen to it. Seriously. The whole idea behind it was a tad far fetched even for my tastes, and some of the lines while funny, were snicker funny as opposed to belly laugh funny. I'm more of a belly laugh funny girl myself, so the shtick kinda got to me.

That, and the male lead is from Quebec. Now, please don't get me wrong, I have absolutely nothing against our francophone counterparts, mais non. It was his accent - it just stuck out, didn't fit in, didn't jibe with the rest of the show. And of course, the more something stands out, the more I'm going to laugh at it. So every time he spoke, CJ and I would go into silent laugh mode, our shoulders heaving up and down as we tried not to laugh out loud. Just seemed soooo out of place.

At the end of the show, I jump out of my seat and run for the doors. There's no WAY I'm missing the 11:13 train and getting stuck downtown for an extra hour. Nosiree. But I get there with plenty of time to spare, and at 12:08 am we pull into the station and I walk into Hubs' arms.

Yep, my fantastic hubby was there to pick me up, even at midnight. Love him.

We chat, catch up on the events of the day and he tells me there's a message from Sludge on the phone at home. For me. Now, she's desperate. And begging. So unattractive.

Basically she wants me to call her so we can chat - she needs me to know how important this is to her and wants to appeal to my sense of fairness. Or some crap like that...I kinda tuned out once I got the gist of the message.

I've told Hubs I will not be calling her back. I'm tired and I really don't want to say things that I'll absolutely love saying in the moment, but will regret in the long run. So the poor guy has offered to be my patsy and deliver my message - I don't want to talk to her because there's nothing new to say. But there's one thing I do want her to know:

For the past two and a half years that I've been in Hubs' (and therefore DeeDee's) life, I have always made decisions in the best interest of DeeDee even if I must sacrifice a smidge of my own happiness - because she's a kid, she can't fight for herself, and she deserves it.

I WAS her as a child, a kid caught in the middle, and I never want that for her or any child. I've been making decisions with her as the number one element of consideration for all this time, and, as Sludge is so quick to remind me, I'm not her mother.

So isn't it time that she, as DeeDee's real live mom, does the same thing?

Yeah.

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

The Return of the Sludge

Oh dear. This day has not gotten off to the best of starts, I must say.

First, I woke up 10 minutes earlier today, sick and tired of being super stressed and flustered in our attempt to leave on time. Which means that I got 10 less minutes of sleep. Boo. Granted, that's not enough to throw my hands up in the air and say, 'this day is ruined - ruined!!!' - even I'm not that much of a diva.

Remember my what-in-the-world-will-I-wear rant of yesterday's post? Well, it took a bit of finessing, but I finally manged to choose the right attire for today's mix of conditions and activities. I slipped on my pink sweater/jacket thingie, and Hubs and I left the house.

Where our front closet is. The closet that currently houses my fuchsia pea coat. The pocket of which safely cradles my TTC metropass. Which means I have to spend an additional $10.50 on five tokens so I can transport my carcass around town today, when my carcauss haulage would have been pre-paid if I'd had the stupid pass.

Sucks.

I come to this realization as I vacate my train and head into Union station. I'm already a bit bleary eyed because the 7:17 train was arriving just as Hubs dropped me off, and since you never look a gift GO train in the mouth, I skipped my morning ritual of procuring coffee at the station in order to make the train.

So I'm caffeine deprived as well. But wait - it gets even better.

I'm making my way into Union as my cell phone goes off and it's Hubs. This is not good. Hubs and I do not have sweet little 'how's your day goin'?' convos at 8:04 am. He's calling for a reason, and chances are, it's not a good one.

You see, Hubs calls DeeDee every night before she goes to bed to see how her day goes, and every morning before she goes to school to tell her to have a good day, etc. Awww.....I know. He's such a good guy and a super dedicated dad. Very impressive, my Hubs. The only problem is that every time he calls to talk to DeeDee, Sludge wants to get on the phone with him and bitch about one thing or another.

Annnnnd today is no exception.

To set the scene - DeeDee, like most almost 10 year old girls, loves babies. She adores my nephew, loves spending time with him, has all sorts of dolls that are her 'children' (please let that be as close as she comes to real parenthood for at least another 10 years), and relishes any opportunity she has to be where she and a baby will share the same oxygen.

Apparently Sludge's 17 year old cousin went and got herself knocked up, so they're having a baby shower for her this weekend - Saturday afternoon, in a town far, far away. This is supposed to be DeeDee's weekend with us, but she, being the huge baby lover, wants to go to this shower. Not that the baby's even born yet, but I suppose that's secondary.

So, Sludge jumps on this, calls Hubs and says that he'll have to trade weekends, but he can have her for two weekends in a row. Gee thanks. Then he points out one thing.....

....the Christina Aguilera/Pussycat Dolls concert is this Sunday.

The one that caused so much 'upset' back in January. The one that I was to take DeeDee to, and that was that.

Well, now that we're but five days away, Sludge is up to her old tricks again - if she doesn't go with me, she can't go at all. Awesome.

So Hubs rightly calls her on her shit, saying that's why she wants to change weekends, so he can't get her to the concert with me. Ooooo boy, this is gonna get fun.

And here we are yet again, ladies and gentlemen. Hubs gets DeeDee on the phone and tells her what her mom has said and she's upset - of course she's upset! Part of me, upon hearing this from Hubs on my cell as I'm standing in Union, wants to call Sludge, get her on the phone and give her a piece of my mind. But then I remember I need all of the pieces I've got and that it likely wouldn't do anything positive (other than make me feel better) so I drop it.

Hubs is heading out to see DeeDee tonight after work as CJ and I are going for dinner and to see We Will Rock You - our Christmas gift to one another. I hope he has some time to talk some sense into her, but as with all things that Sludge gets her greasy paws in, this one will likely be a game day decision.

Fortunately CJ and I have this great standby rule as a pillar of our friendship - if we ever need a seat filler for one reason or another, we happily and willingly accompany the other to whatever is on the playbill that evening without even a second thought about being invited at the very last minute.

So when I see her tonight, I'm going to get her to pencil me in for Sunday night, 'cause it looks like it might be more of a ladies event than a girls night out.

I know that if I was super altruistic I'd just turn the tickets over to Sludge and let her get her way yet again, but this time, I just can't. I hate, I really do hate, the fact that DeeDee might not get to go to this concert, but I just flat out refuse to be walked on again and again by a woman who detests my very existence and refers to me as the other 'cancer' she has in her life. And I ain't talking astrological signs - I'm a Leo.

So for once, I have put my foot down and I totally intend to keep it there. She's gotten away with walking all over everyone with no consequence to her (everyone always bends because it's in DeeDee's best interest - case in point, her sharing Christmas with us) and I'm just not going to stand by and let it happen anymore.

I realize there are some of you that will disagree with me and my hard line on this one because in the end DeeDee is the one who has to bear the real brunt of this, but sometimes a diva has to stand up for herself, especially when she's spent the last 2.5 years bending over for the greater good.

And that's your daily dash - the early edition. That's it for today though - I won't be home until well after midnight, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow for a new post. How's your diva doin'?

Where the feck is spring?

Okay, I'm officially pissed off. It's spring, or close enough dammit, and it was -16 with the windchill this morning as I waited for my train.

-16.

It's March 20th.

Suddenly, I'm not all that convinced about the whole global warming thing.

Kidding of course, but come on!!! I know it's supposed to go up to 10 or 18 or 99 or something like that in the next day or so (no wonder everyone is getting sick - how the hell do you know what to wear in the morning these days??) but today was just plain not fair. Last week, I was wearing my pink zip up sweater/jacket thingie, and today, out comes the fuchsia pea coat and the fluffy white scarf.

Scarf!!

It's March 20th.

This totally sucks. I really hope we're turning the corner weather wise, or else I'm one step closer to a warm bath with a side of razor blade. Kidding of course....but I'm starting to believe that we've been sucked into some weird weather wormhole where spring was in November and December, and then we just cycled right back to winter.

Sigh.

Spring is my favourite season. It's like a reward for being patient, for making it through the trials and tribulations that are winter. It's the shedding of the outer layers, the rebirth of pastels, and bhjc...

Oops, sorry, Hubs is trying to bite my ear right now...hard to concentrate...he's a right wee bastard sometimes. What's a girl (OW!) gotta do to write her diva bloggie unencumbered?

And we're back. Profound apologies - you should never have to see that. But here we are.

As I was saying, it's the shedding of the outer layers, the rebirth of pastels, and, perhaps my favourite, the advent of the end of socks!!

Yes, you read that right. I hate socks. With a passion. Don't ask me why, but I don't like the extra step in the morning nor do I enjoy sentencing my tender tootsies to 11 hours of cotton/poly blend prison. Spring means summer is coming, and with summer comes an explosion of new footwear options for me, ones that mean no more sockies. Bliss.

Having said all of this, I really hate feet. Mine, yours, Hubs', anyone's. Feet totally gross me out. Like don't ever touch me with your feet. Even as you read this, were you to touch your computer with your foot while you read my words, I'd feel it and shudder.

I know it makes little or no sense. I was fine for years, until my BFF at the time (a boy - can you imagine?!) let me in on his foot phobia - and I caught it. And I haven't been able to shake it yet.

Anywho - wow, very tangent-y post today, I must be exhausted - all of this to say that I most sincerely hope that tomorrow brings spring-like temps and conditions, otherwise I refuse to be held accountable for my actions. How do you like that, Mother Nature? It's on you if things don't go well tomorrow....it's all on you.

-4 in the morning, 7 and sunny in the afternoon, 6 and rain in the evening. That's tomorrow's weather forecast for my little corner of the world. Now you tell me, my lovely readers, how the hell does one choose suitable attire for a day like tomorrow? Especially when you're off to dinner and the theatre after work? I just don't want to wear my heavy coat if it's going to be warmer and wet in the evening, but I also don't want to freeze my generous sized ass off at the GO station in the glow of early morn.

Well, the truth of it all is that I'm seriously too tired to put together the potential pieces that will, when aligned in exquisite harmony, make the perfect outfit for what will be March 21. Alas...now I'll have plenty of fodder for my dreams. Let's just hope I can remember the outcomes when I wake. At 6:20, to -4 weather.

I just keep telling myself things can only get better from here, things can only get better from here. Can you hear me clicking my socked heels together three times??

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

Anyone watching this crap Grease show?

If I've said it once, I'll say it a million times - I'm a fan of the reality tv shows. Survivor, Apprentice, Amazing Race, Beauty and the Geek (shameful, I know), American Idol...if there's no script, I'm watching it.

And it's clearly no secret that I have performance aspirations...that whole 'diva' thang didn't come from thin air. That's right, I'm the karaoke queen with Broadway dreams - and an opera singer's physique. Sigh....but enough about me.

Months ago, this crazy show called Grease: You're the One That I Want jumped onto my Toshiba. Stunned, I watched as thousands of wannabes (some just like me, some - not so much) auditioned for a reality show that would have them competing for the lead roles in a Grease revival on Broadway this summer.

Wow. How flippin cool is that! The talent is great...but the rest of the show, all of the inane production elements and the ridiculous hosts, is completely for crap.

The good news is my dark horses (picked in the first round of auditions, I'll have you know - Hubs gives me shit because I refuse to make my American Idol picks before the top 12 are chosen) are still in the running - and tonight was the finals. Now watch, I've probably gone and cursed the little talented bastards. Bah, all will be revealed next weekend.

In the grand scheme of things, I couldn't really give a greased flip who comes out on top. No plans to jet to NYC expressly to see the show, and until I enter the phase of my life where Hubs becomes my sugar daddy, I really ain't got the cash to cover the ticket prices and all the trappings that come with a diva worthy trip to the Big Apple. That whole mortgage thing is gonna be around for a while, so no huge Broadway productions in my near future.

Sad, isn't it? It's been a long time since I've visited my home away from home...almost three years in fact. How is it possible that time has flown by so quickly? Seems like yesterday that I was there with my sister, enjoying a Cosmo in the bar that doubles for Scout on Sex and the City, courtesy of our participation in the Sex and the City bus tour.

Yes ladies, that was my life. Drinking Cosmos in SoHo, sipping coffee at Dean and Deluca, inhaling the Kung Po chicken at Ruby Foo's in Times Square, bargain hunting at Century 21 and handbag alley on Canal Street. For a few days anyway - then I had to cram all my finds into my suitcase and jet back to reality. Once I actually had to buy a whole new duffel bag to bring home all my handbag finds...for shame. I crammed seven purses into that bag, and my pulse raced as I slid through customs, sure that if I was caught I'd be charged with intent to traffic.

Do I miss those days, now that I'm a married suburbanite? Sometimes. But there's a huge difference between then and now. I can still make fun girly trips to NYC when the time is right. I can still enjoy all of the aforementioned pleasures for years to come.

But now when I travel, coming home is a totally different story. Why? I come home to someone. Home to a place I call my own, and to someone who missed me terribly while I was gone.

To me, that's worth all the Cosmos in the cosmos.

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

For the love of all things holy...

What an interesting weekend it's been! It was delightful, in fact. No deep and meaningful hunts for any variety of household items, no appointments booked, nothing. We invited a colleague from work and her previously thought to be Polkaroo partner for dinner (yes, he really does exist!!) and that was the big item on the weekend's calendar.

Then I spoke to my friend CJ who mentioned her Kia was in the shop for a routine check up (yes, we have almost matching cars - she has the sedan, we have the hatchback - needless to say, she has excellent taste) and it dawned on me - our poor workhorse of a vehicle hadn't been to the auto spa in way too long. So we booked her an appointment for Saturday morning.

At 8am.

Ugh. Not the way I'd really wanted to begin the weekend but what could we do? We needed to get it done and were pretty lucky to get a weekend appointment the Friday before, so we sucked it up. Until the alarm went off at 7, and I seriously questioned my decision making abilites.

But we managed to haul carcass out of our warm bed, engage in a land shower (translation - got dressed, put on deodorant and a ball cap - very un-diva-esque but it was 7freakin am, dammit) and just about fell off our collective chairs when we saw the snow outside. So not cool. Where the hell is spring anyway? I've been patient...snow was most certainly not a part of my weekend plans...sigh....

And here's how we slip into the tales of a suburban super diva. You would not believe how many errands you can accomplish while your car is at the spa - and you're putting mileage on the dealership's loaner car and not your leased vehicle that's already waaaay over where she should be by this time in the lease.

Bear in mind it was 8:00 in the morning - and we're in the suburbs. Not much open in this part of the world at that time, much to my chagrin. Case in point - we headed straight to Costco in search of some kick ass steaks, etc for dinner with our friends. We arrived in the parking lot at 8:20 - to find a very closed store and an hour wait ahead of us.

But the diva gods were smiling on me - the one Starbucks in the region (that I've found, anyway), opened at 7 am and was but a parking lot away. Now THAT'S what I call good karma.

So Hubs and I headed in, had a very delicious (and well earned, if you ask me) latte, then flooded into Chapters when it opened at 9am. Thanks to a post by ckmaki, I found out about and subsequently purchased the book Will Write For Shoes: How To Write a Chick Lit Novel to properly set me on my new writing path.

And what would you know? By the time we walked out of Chapters, Costco was just getting ready to open.

Can I just have a little sidebar here and go off on an early morning Costco tangent? Have you ever been to Costco right when it opens on a Saturday, one tiny buoy in an ever-expanding sea of bargain hungry shoppers who are also quite likely morning people? Bad combination, bad my friends. Especially when you're really only there for steaks, and you're being mowed down by a beef hungry couple in search of some elusive cut of meat - and your cart is impeding their search. Dag, yo. The cow is dead. It ain't gonna walk off the shelf when it sees you coming. As fun as that would be to watch.....

Anywho, steaks etc procured, we left Costco and took further advantage of our shitbox from the dealer to our next chore of the day - wine making! My sister and I spoke earlier and decided to split a batch of home made wine, so I cleverly sourced a make-your-own place and we hightailed it over there, just in time for them to open as well. Like clockwork. Couldn't have gone better if I'd planned it that way. Actually, planning it would have been the kiss of death - much better to fly by the seat of our pants and leave it up to chance. Seemed to work this time, at least.

After the ceremonial sprinkling of the yeast we hit the grocery store for some fresh produce, then returned home to shower (for real this time) before making our way back to the dealership to pick up our silver baby.

All this, and it was only noon. Wow. Who's impressed? I know I was. Fabulous.

This allowed us plenty of time to rest, relax and prepare for our dinner guests. When they showed up around 4pm we were delighted to meet Dave in the flesh and proceeded to have a fantastic evening with them. Great food, good wine, excellent and hilarious conversation, and a charmingly competitive game of Balderdash that was going so well until I slipped from my first place position to a hideous third. Funny, that's when they chose to say their goodbyes....convenient? I'd say so.

Today we got to sleep in. It was glorious. No alarm clocks, no appointments, no reason to be out and/or about before noon...absolutely divine. The only reason to leave the house was a coffee or potential manicure date with the lovely JBJ which would have been fantastic, but the poor girl (working too hard yet again) is still recovering from a nasty cold and has a huge presentation tomorrow, so we agreed to re-book our face time.

The remainder of the day saw us finally setting up the guest bedroom, watching The Departed, and taking a walk (gasp!!! what has become of me?) in the freezingly insane wind to get a coffee at Tim's. Let's face it - I had to leave the freaking house.

And since there are so many wonderful temptations in the immediate vicinity of our local Timmy Ho's, we grabbed three more movies from Blockbuster, picked up our takeout from East Side Mario's, and completed our circuit home.

As this has already been a marathon post (if you're still reading I applaud you...it's totally okay if you slipped into a 'stream of consciousness' coma 25 paragraphs ago), I will cut my final rant short. But I can't just let it go entirely, so fasten your seatbelts...this could get bumpy.

One of the films we got this fine evening was Jesus Camp (www.jesuscampthemovie.com). This documentary was Oscar nominated...and was one of the scariest films I've seen all year.

Now, the last thing I want is to turn my wee, lighthearted blog into a debate about the Christian right et al, but wow...what a film. What I will say is simply this - if this is a topic of interest to you, I wholeheartedly suggest that you take the time to watch and digest this documentary. I'd be more than happy to discuss this offline with anyone up for a good convo, but for the sake of keeping the peace and to avoid the possibility of offending anyone I'm going to let this one lie.

I've already babbled on long enough so I think this is where I will take my leave for the eve. Hard to believe this lovely weekend has already come and gone and in 12 short hours I'll already be two coffees into my Monday. Hope yours flies by...try caffeine. It seems to do an okay job for me. Ciao!

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

(Virtual) strangers have the best candy

And man, am I on a sugar overload!

You guys are fantastic! I'm overwhelmed by the comments you've made on my roll call post - I'll snack on them forever! Fortunately, this candy has no calories or carbs, so I'm good.

In the year and a bit that I've been a member of a virtual community, I've been gobsmacked by how emotionally invested I can become in complete strangers, people who, for the most part, I'll likely never meet in the world we call real life. I may exchange my deepest fears with you on a message board, but I'd never know you if we crossed paths at the airport, on the subway, in the grocery store.

From time to time, worlds do collide. I'll hear 'excuse me' in the St Jacob's market, and will meet face to face with a WB gal over fudge. Hubs will shake his head at this meeting of the brides and will marvel that someone could recognize me from photos a few inches square on a computer screen hundreds of kilometres away. And I can't disagree with him.

Recently, there's been a surge in research projects looking at the value of online communities. One such project found that cancer patients who belonged to online communities with other people who have or were going through the same thing reported feeling better, more positive about their prognosis, and more in control of their situation than the control group.

As I sat in the room watching the presentation, I immediately identified with this phenomenon. No, I don't have cancer thank goodness, but as a member of even a virtual wedding planning world (about as far away from cancer, frankly, as you could possibly get), I could quickly and easily relate to the sense of connection amongst total strangers that the researcher in front of me was describing.

My wedding took place over 9 months ago. And yet I can't shake the boards, can't leave my gals, can't stay away. And I think that really says something about the caliber of the people who populate this strange and mystical virtual world. Who would have thought that I'd come to rely on so many unknown individuals in my every day life. Sometimes, things aren't real in my life until I've done three things: told Hubs, my sister/close friends, and posted it (all too often accompanied by a photo or seven) on WB.

So to those of you that came on yesterday and typed so many kind words my way, I'd love to now repay the favour and thank you, my lovely reader, for the part you play in my life. We may never have met, or we've consumed more than our fair share of alcohol together. You may have read about the flowers that populated my bouquet on my wedding day, or you were there in person, face into the wind, to watch them accompany me on my journey towards becoming a wife.

Whether we've clinked our glasses in a toast to each other's happiness, or from just reading each others words we feel like we have, I thank you for your part in making my life just that much richer in friendship. It's nice to know there's one bank account that will never go into overdraft. Phew...I had to have at least one.

Kisses!

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

Roll call??

Okay, I've been wanting to do this for a long time. Curiosity is just plain killing the cat, so I'm taking a deep breath and preparing for my inevitable feline demise. Meow.

One of my fellow WB'ers (hey RBM!!) turned me on to a site counter about 6 weeks ago, which you're probably well aware of should you ever find the energy to scroll to the bottom of the page.

I pay great, and perhaps well too much, attention to that lovely number in white. I watch it climb, slowly but surely, and marvel at the fact that since January 30th, more than 2,200 visits have been made to my little ole bloggie here.

Here's where the curiosity comes in. Who are you? Where are you from? How did you stumble upon my corner of the world? Chances are good you're a WB girl - lord knows I hock my bloggie wares all over that poor site - or you're a friend of mine, someone I've allowed into my diva universe.

Are there others of you out there? Folks who honestly have no flippin clue who I actually am, what my name is, what I look like? People in other countries even?

I'm fascinated to know who I'm speaking to, venting to, sharing my secrets with - hell, sharing other people's secrets with! hehe.

Drop me a quick line. Check in, lemme know where you're from and how you found me. No need to leave a real name or anything like that - y'all know how much I love my 'anonymity', so I can't fault you for wanting yours!

I'm just really that curious. Nosey, even. And I can live with that. I figure every cat has nine lives, so if this particular episode of curiosity is gonna subtract one from my cosmic scorecard, I've still got eight to play with. I can still get up to sooooo much diva mischief with eight lives in my pocket, wouldn't ya say?

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

What's a diva to do?

Years ago, someone somewhere told me they could read palms. So, like any good self-absorbed diva, I thrust my palm into her hand and quite uncouthly demanded that she 'do me'. She stared at my palm, looked up and me and said, 'well, you're going to live a good life - but it will be short'.

Uh...yeah. I'm not kidding. And this is why I don't go to psychics, palm readers, tea leaf readers, roadside quacks, I-can-tell-your-future-by-the-number-of-hairs-on-your-sweater folk.

It's also why I've decided that, as I make my approach to birthday number 34, I'm well overdue for my mid-life crisis. So cue the strings, people, it's soul searching time!!

First, let me preface my remarks by saying that I love my job. Have for years, still do. But I'm kinda getting close to hitting that wall - you know, the one that just jumps into your career path every few years in an effort to make you either alter your course, or smash into it, head-first.

Given a choice, I'd really rather prefer to do the former.

It's not that I'm actually looking for a new job - on the contrary. I don't want to leave where I currently am - I totally love the people I work with, the 'clients' I interact with daily, and the cause we all work to eradicate.

I've just glimpsed that wall in the distance, and I'm really not sure how to navigate it this time.

You see, this particular wall is a little different than others I've faced in the past. This one has me pondering if what I'm doing for my daily bread is what I SHOULD be doing for said bread. I'm way beyond second guessing my chosen profession, at least I thought I was, but for the first time I can understand the statistic that says the average professional will change careers (not jobs, but careers) three to seven times during their working lives. I've been in the same industry since I started contributing to Canada's tax system...is it time for me to make the first of my three to seven moves?

And yet, the more I ponder it, the less I believe I need to completely refocus to be happier. I DO love what I do, and can truly see myself working in the industry in one capacity or another for years to come. But I do know something is missing...somewhere, I'm just not entirely fulfilled in my day to day working life.

Home life is fantastic - newly married, new home, a relative degree of financial security, my very own purse room....what more could a girl want? Maybe the 'success' of my home life has just allowed me to direct more mental attention to the other side of my being's coin - my work life.

Since starting this blog, I've really gotten back into writing and being creative. I love the thrill of it, the way words just drip from my digits and magically pool on my screen. I must admit, I thrive on the feedback I receive here (I read and internalize every comment, you have no idea - this is but one curse of divahood) and nothing feeds a diva's queen sized ego like positive reinforcement.

Which brings us back to my midlife crisis - is it time to explore what else I could be doing with my working hours? Is it time to put my money where my sexy pout is, and see what just might happen if I give writing a serious shot? Maybe, maybe.

And then again, maybe not.

I think I'll try to tackle this particular wall one brick at a time (decked out in a tiara and boa to ensure onlookers will recognize me without question) so as to avoid the painful whiplash-y spasms head on collisions are known for. I think I'll attempt to supplement my working life with more creative avenues in my down time as opposed to just up and leaving the security (both financial and...well, financial - this diva's got a mortgage to pay) of my 9-5 daily grind.

'Cause let's face it - after all this pondering I realize two very important things: I'm nowhere near ready to up and abandon my day job, and whiplash can really mess up your sleep patterns. Lord knows I'll need all the rest I can get if I'm gonna try to make a go of this whole writin' thang in that urban myth we like to call 'spare time'.

But at least I'll know I've tried. And who knows - maybe this time, as with our attempts to get pregnant, the joy truly is in the trying.

And that's your daily dash - how's your diva doin'?

By popular demand...

Wow...two posts in one day. Can you handle it? I even have subject matter to make a third post, but you'll just have to wait for tomorrow for that one. Don't want to force a diva-overload on anyone!

(oops - I prematurely posted there. I hate when that happens. Sorry baby, sorry.)

So this one is purely self indulgent. Again, WB gals you've probably already seen some of these so please bear with me. Your patience is appreciated. :)

Today I unpacked some of our last boxes, precious cargo indeed...my handbag collection. Ah, the memories. Unpacking my beauties was like Christmas all over again. Magnificent.

You see, in this new house of ours we have a bedroom painted the most precious baby pink. 'Cause, well, it was the room of a baby girl, so it makes total sense.

It was the one room we never even considered painting, seeing as we're trying to get pregnant and all that. And of course, I want a girl, a beautiful baby girl that I can dress up in the pinkest of outfits until she's old enough to make her own decisions...to wear pink all the time. And this room would be the perfect backdrop for her to begin her life's journey with us.

Until then, it's all mine.

Which means it's my handbag/chicklit room. Purses and books. A whole room for purses and books. I really am the luckiest girl alive. Take a peek!!




And just for giggles, here's my happy new find that has taken up residence in the space quite nicely. It's currently housing the various art pieces that I've picked up from my travels that are in desperate need of framing. Sigh...someday!!


And finally, some of you have asked for photos of DeeDee's room. It truly is a work in progress, but at least more progress has been made this weekend. We got the light fixture up which was a feat in and of itself (beware IKEA light fixtures - dear god) but it looks great and in the end, I guess that's what matters.

And that's your double dose of the daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

The ghosts of childhoods past...

How's that for a cryptic post title? Does it make the wait for a new post that much more palatable? I should hope so - even I miss my posts (the stress relief that comes with writing them, anyway), so I can only imagine what you all must be going through. I vow to be better from here on in. At least I'll give it the old college try.

It's been quite the few days. Friday I was home from work, not feeling well at all. Adjusting to all of these different medications all at once plus the stupid freezing weather really took their toll, and since I had no meetings scheduled for the day and I woke up feeling like crap on toast yet again, I took it as a sign from the universe - stay the hell in bed.

And who am I to deny a sign from the universe?

So I slept in a bit, being sure to send an email to the office informing them of my impending absence. My boss emailed back asking me to take a look at something a bit later which I of course agreed to do, so my sleep was somewhat abbreviated but I was able to rectify that later in the day, so no harm done.

I stumbled down the stairs, checked the email, etc, had some toast to try and settle the ole belly, then watched endless hours of HGTV in between couch naps. Pure heaven.

A while later my sister in law came by to keep me company - she was off for the day too - and that totally helped the time go by. We had some laughs, watched some bad design telly, had fun impersonating Hubs (tee hee), then she was on her way home to provide her puppy's bladder with some relief.

Hubs finally showed up with DeeDee around 9:30 or so - poor guy had a long week - and by then I was itching to just get out of the house so I hopped in the car, went to Tim's for a decaf (I'm a caffeine lightweight after 8pm) and went to get the mail.

At least I can say I left the house that day.

Saturday morning we were up early and decided to dine at our now fave breaky spot - Denny's. Remembering our last wait for a table, we got our collective asses in gear and headed down the road for some freakin french toast.

Yummy, lovely, happy day, we're sitting, we're eating, we're chatting, all is well. Lisa, a girl I went on a winter trip to Blue Mountain walks in - well hi! How are you? Long time no see...meet my husband, etc. I meet her fiance, enjoy your breakfast, yes we live out here now, and on they go. We turn our attention back to coffee and cranberry juice, laughing smugly at how small the world is, great to run into people, and then it happens.

In walks Carolyn Hill. (cue bad guy music here).

I truly believe that everyone has had a Carolyn Hill in their lifetime. You know, the one kid (male or female, doesn't matter) who makes your life a living hell sometime during the course of your schooling. They tease you, or taunt you, lead the other kids in teasing and taunting you, and while you vow with all the self esteem a 12 year old can muster to not let it get to you, inside you are destroyed. You make a pledge to yourself to rise above it, be the bigger person, but 20 plus years later when you're face to face with the evil bitch, it all comes flooding back.

I had two Carolyn Hill's in my life. I won't mention the other girl's name - it's a lot more distinctive than Carolyn Hill (how much more generic can you get, I mean really?) but my level of disdain for her equals that of Carolyn Hill without question. I ran into Other Girl a few years ago back in my hometown, working the cash at Canadian Tire. Now, not that there's anything wrong with that, but I will say that I had just graduated with my Master's Degree and was about to start my big, fancy corporate consulting job in the big city - and she was at home, working the cash at Canadian Tire. And she looked like shit. But bad shit, like she'd been really sick or something. So in that moment, I was able to let it go. Especially when she swiped my gold card, looked at the name, and recognized me. No witty retorts or nasty comments this time. No, Other Girl held her tongue. And that was victory enough for me.

But back to Carolyn Hill. My heart almost stopped and I thrust my hand into my bag in desperate search of my cell phone so I could call my sister and let her know who I was 'dining' with that morning. Her reaction matched mine which thrilled me. Satisfied, I hung up and went back to my french toast.

She never saw me, my nemesis. Or if she did, she just looked right through me as I only wished she had so many times all those years ago. Then she spoke to the waiter and I heard that unmistakable voice, and any doubts I might have had regarding her identity quickly vanished.

I must have stared straight at her for 15 minutes, and never once did she really see me, despite being in her almost direct line of sight. Typical. Although she did have three young boys and a husband to contend with (personally I think three young boys is punishment enough for her former crimes - but that's just me), so that may have quite rightly have pulled her focus away from little ole me.

Part of me so desperately wanted to walk up to her table, pretend to see her for the first time, and exclaim, 'Carolyn? Is it really you?' just to see how the miserable excuse for a human being wrapped up in a purple sweat suit would react. But the 12 year old in me just didn't have the guts, and the 33 year old in me decided she wasn't worth wasting any additional breath or energy on Her Fierceness.

So I walked past her table on the way to the washroom, hoping to catch her eye, to see even a glimmer of recognition, but nothing. I continued on, took care of business, and returned to Hubs and DeeDee, waiting for me at the exit.

Hubs told me he heard her come up to the cash to complain about their server - apparently he wasn't 'polite' enough for her liking. Wow. Hey pot, it's kettle - you're black! Too funny.

I shook my head, laughed at how some people just never change, then sent some positive vibes to her poor husband and children. 'Cause if she truly hasn't changed as seems to be the case, they're surely going to need them. Then I grabbed Hubs' hand and strolled outta there. My 33 year old self was feeling pretty okay about how my life turned out, and knew there was nothing more purely crappy people like her could do to hurt me. I think my 12 year old self even cracked a little smile as I wanted out into the spring morning.

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

Pushing the big 3-0

No, I haven't lost my marbles - I know quite well that I'm already edging from my early 30's to my mid-30's (transition will take place in August) in terms of age. I'm not one of those girls that is turning 29 for the fifth time...the pushing 30 I'm referring to actually has less to do with birth and more to do with girth.

That's right - I've lost 28 lbs so far, and this weekend I'm crossing my fingers that I'll eek over into the 30's.

It's been a long process, started in October, really. But slow and steady is going to win me this race (marathon or Ironman triathalon, more like it) so I'm taking every bit in stride and focusing on where I am as opposed to how long it took me to get here.

It's funny, people are starting to notice, and that's rather cool I must say. And notice they should - I've rid myself of the equivalent of almost three bags of potatoes. That seems pretty substantial to me!!

So I'm trying to be super good this week in an effort to slide gracefully into my 30's. And it's damned hard.

I'm starving right now. Honestly. You'd think that with all my reserves my substantial body would have fuel to burn but alas, tis not the case. I could eat my own foot right now...and I freakin hate feet. Blech.

To top it all off, I'm on insulin in the evenings as I've mentioned, and we're still in the process of trying to find the right dosage. Which means I'm all over the map during the day as we get this whole thing sorted out. I'm cranky, irritable, dizzy, sleepy, dopey...pretty much all of the seven dwarfs wrapped up into one. Makes me a real treat to be around, I'm sure!

And all this on the one day that Hubs can't pick me up from the GO station after work. Sniff. He's in London and won't be home until around 8pm, so I have to, gulp, take the bus. Boo hoo hoo for me.

Wow, that was quite a detour I took us on...hmmm.

Back to losing weight.

The funniest thing I'm finding as people are starting to notice the change is the question 'what are you doing?' The sarcastic bitch in me wants to say I imported a tapeworm from South America or that I joined a very controlling cult but you simply can't spout retorts of that kind in civilized company.

So I roll out my standard, pat answer - just eating better, that kinda thing. 'Cause it is the truth. No, I didn't have gastric bypass surgery (as tempting as it often seems) and I don't have one of those bands on my stomach. I haven't joined Weight Watchers or Jenny or LA Weightloss, despite the fact that I know many women who have and have achieved remarkable success.

I'm just not a meetings kinda gal.

No, for me, if I'm going to do this, I have to do it my way. And that means being as good as I can, but not all out depriving myself of everything either. I figure that it has to be a serious lifestyle change and not a diet. I'm not ON a diet, but I have altered my diet. There's a huuuuuuuge difference in my book.

So there you go. I suppose I'm blogging all of this to remind myself to be good and to avoid the temptation of running to my colleague Wendy's office and helping myself to her endless supply of Snickers bars, left over from an event a while ago. And since I know at least one other colleague reads this on a semi-regular basis (howdy, Camilla), there will be at least one person who can hold me to this new regime - hell, one person to hold me back as I bolt for Wendy's office.

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

A day late and a dollar short...

Hello my lovlies. My apologies for no entry yesterday. It was simply one of those days where not all that much happened and I was exhausted and cold beyond belief. I was in bed (ahem - asleep!) at 9:30pm.

To any of you who have recently or are about to travel south I simply say - lucky bitch. And while I mean bitch in the nicest, most loving sense of the word, I can't help but be jealous. Yes, our trip south is all wrapped up in our new home, and yes, I wouldn't trade home ownership for a week in the sun for anything. But this winter is killing me.

I guess I've been out of the north for too long. Years ago cold like this would be a normal winter occurrence and I'd find a way to muddle through it, but this southern Ontario living has made me soft, spoiled me - so I'm no longer prepared for these ridiculous Arctic air masses that drift in just to mess with me. How's that for ego? Thinking that the cold has been driven here for the express purpose of torturing me. What could I possibly have done to deserve this? Sigh...my apologies for bringing you down with me.

Hubs was kind enough to drive me directly to the train station both yesterday and today so I would not have to suffer the elements while waiting for the, well....bus. It still pains me to write that - I'm a fan of the commuter train, a very diva-endorsed, civilized method of transportation, but I am not now nor will I ever be, a bus person.

And as always he was there to pick me up from the station and had the heat going full blast in the car for my benefit. Lovely man, yes?

Since neither of us were up for cooking, we headed to our local Boston Pizza (see how the suburbs are seeping into my diva bones?) for a quick dinner, then it was home time. And this diva did not pass go, did not collect $200, but made a beeline for her ensuite bath and the corner soaker tub. Ah....

Now, I'm used to wonderful, marvellous tubs. I enjoy their splendour not for bathing (I'm expressly a shower girl when the purpose is solely to remove the previous day's grime) but for pure, unadulterated luxuriating. In our previous abode we had a one person jacuzzi tub. Wonderful for soaking and keeping the water hot, but no fun if two cared to soak, and by design, it's not bubble friendly which detracts a smidge from its appeal.

While the plan is to eventually upgrade our now soaker tub to an air forced jacuzzi-esque masterpiece, I must admit - I'm in bathtub heaven.

Last night I warmed up in our huge tub, complete with one of my all time fave smelling bubble concoctions - Jacqua's Caramel Espresso Foaming Bath. Heaven!

And alas, in my great desire to post a photo of this fab find, I am dismayed to discover that the flavour has been discontinued! Whatever shall I do? I suppose I'll just have to savour the bottle I have now - precious liquid. Guess I shouldn't have been so cavalier in telling Hubs to squirt away last night (yes, he drew my bath for me). Sigh. Well, better to know now than to rip through the bottle in lightening speed, only to discover it's retirement on the store floor. No one should have to bear witness to the emotional display that would undoubtedly ensue.

Here's the next best thing - their buttercream frosting flavour. Yummmyy!! It's not caramel espresso, but then again, nothing else ever can be *tear*.

The hard part of all of this is, in searching for an image to present to you as guidance for your next shopping trip, be it online at www.jaquabeauty.com or at a Bath and Body Works on your next cross border extravaganza, I have now stumbled on a number of must have products that I must now seek, find, and make mine. Damned power of suggestion! And browsing!

Case in point, the lip glossy thing just to the left here. Hubs is a HUGE fan of chocolate mint, has a bit of an obsession one might say, so I'm always on the lookout for a chocolate mint flavoured lip gloss so one day he can get a nice smoochy surprise. Simple perfumes or lotions won't do - the poor man has no sense of smell (I know, tragic - especially considering how awfully fabulous I smell thanks to my treasure trove of yummy lotions, sprays, etc) so I have to go with taste to knock his socks off.

It seems my search has finally ended - now, I must devote my resources to procuring this tasty concoction as but a tiny treat for Hubs who does so many great things for me.

The hunt is on! Ah, there's nothing like the thrill of the chase to really get my adrenaline pumping on a freezing cold morning. I'll be sure to let you know when I've captured my prey. And if in the course of your own diva travels you come upon this holy grail of lip glosses, do a diva a favour and drop me a line to let me know where you saw it, will ya? Much obliged.

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

A powder room transformed...

Finally. I think we're done our stinking painting projects, etc. After running out of paint yesterday, we did as promised and headed to the Depot after work to procure more.

And when we got home, Hubs offered to do the second coat if I'd do dinner. All to help save my manicure. Have I mentioned what a fantastic and understanding husband I have? He knows me so well and is so considerate of my needs it's not even funny! Love that man of mine.

Anywho, the powder room is assembled - yippee! Again, sometimes it boggles my mind the things I get excited about. Sigh.

Bear in mind that we still need to hunt and gather artwork, accessories (ie a fancy chrome soap dispenser, some towels, etc) but dag, what an improvement, in my own oh-so-humble opinion.

WBers have likely been subjected to this already so I apologize for the repetition. But hell, I'm just that damned happy to have the stupid thing done.

So here's the before picture - too bad you can't see the butt ugly light fixture, but alas...what can we do. And before you ask no, we weren't fortunate enough to work the wooden over-the-toilet shelf into our offer...for shame...



And here is the new and improved powder room - come on over for a pee sometime!!



We love it! And frankly, I'm quite relieved that I don't have to sidestep all the painting accessories when I run in for quick bladder relief in those desperate moments. Just makes life that much more civilized, ya know?

Hope you like it! And if not, well, good thing it's not your house, eh?

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

Back to work so soon...

It's Sunday, it's 11pm, it's time for bed, and in 7.5 hours I have to get up and shuffle back to work yet again. In fact, most of us will, and since misery loves company, come on in, pull up a chair and pass me your glass - I'll top you up.

This was a pretty decent weekend all things considered. Today we slept in until after 11 am - unfreakin' real! I thought I couldn't do that anymore, especially since the damned sun blasts into our room bright and early (damned eastern facing bedroom window). And it's only going to get worse next weekend when daylight savings time starts and the sun will slam into my eyeballs an hour earlier than we're now just becoming accustomed to. Goodie.

Maybe I'll have to get myself one of those diva-esque sleep masks, the cute fluffy things you put over your eyes on the red eye to Paris, for example. That would be a great way to get myself to sleep, dreaming of being on my way to gay Par-eee. There are worse things I could dream about, I suppose. Like having to go back to work in the morning. Boo.

Anyway...in other news we managed to get the first coat of paint on the powder room today, then promptly ran out of the damned stuff. Just when I thought we'd finally be finished painting this place, we're in the home stretch, my manicure is already ruined - and I'm forced to stop because we weren't smart enough to buy a bigger bucket o'paint.

That sucks.

So now we have to go out, buy more, and set everything up all over again to get the stupid thing done. And can I say how frustrating it is to paint a super tiny space - especially one that has a toilet sticking out of the wall? And a sink, and all those little hoses and disks for water or whatever...sheesh. That does not make for a nice, smooth, pretty finish people! It's messy and awkward...and let's face it, no one wants to get that close to the toilet just to ensure that all the wee white space is covered up. Blech.

It's a beautiful colour though, a bright blue called Fresh Water by Behr. We also ripped the mirror out, replaced the fixture, doorknob and switch plate covers, so when we're done it's going to look like an entirely different room.

If it ever gets done, that is. At least the new cabinet is put together, ready to be installed, and the collection of new, round mirrors is also all ready to go. Just awaiting a second coat of paint.

With any luck we'll manage to get it done sometime this week and then I can say, once and for all, that all the painting is done except for the touchups. Which will likely never get done, so for all intents and purposes, painting will be complete!

In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy my newly painted nails (had to be redone to compensate for the post-painting state of affairs) for the few hours they will stay pristine. 'Cause if I have my way (and lets face it, I so often do) that puppy will be done by tomorrow night - and I'll be forced to once again redo my poor bedraggled nails so I can face the world with a fresh coat of polish.

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

Diva's edit: After mentally reviewing this post in the shower, it came to me that daylight savings would help, not hurt my fragile eyeballs, that the 8am light I'm facing now will become the 7am light once the clocks skip ahead. As such, I apologize to the sun for any incovenience or embarassment my comments may have caused. The Diva deeply regrets her error.

The return of the domestic goddess.

Well, it's official. I am no longer an entertainment virgin in our new home.

Tonight we hosted my sister, brother in law and nephew for dinner. I had decided yesterday that since we had no solid plans for the weekend, I wanted to break in the kitchen and make a homemade lasagna. No real reason why, I guess someone mentioned it yesterday at work at some point, and instantly I knew what I could do with my Saturday.

Wow, how my life has changed.

Anyway, I must say that it was a smashing success. We ventured to our local Superstore this morning, Tim Horton's in hand, and picked up all of the ingredients. Came home, prepared the sauce from scratch (no Ragu for this diva's pasta dishes) then assembled my masterpiece in our never before used Emile Henry red lasagna dish (fab wedding present) and prayed like hell that it would turn out well. And man were my prayers answered.

If I may be so bold, I do declare that I make a fanfreakintastic lasagna. It turned out perfectly, the table was set beautifully (have I mentioned that our wall colour matches our china? No? Alas, my mistake), the wine had time to breathe in a lovely decanter...ah, sends pleasure bubbles up the spine just thinking about it, no?

You see, the funniest thing is I always had the desire to present a dinner like this, but never the drive in our old place. Yes, there was a good deal of space, but over time it just got filled up with more and more stuff, and that made the whole entertaining part, well, not so entertaining. So I stopped for quite a while, and I can't tell you how excited I am to actually get back in the game.

I'm delighted that this trial run (you know you have to experiment on family - if something had gone horribly wrong they still have to love you and see you again; friends, not so much) was successful and it's now given us the confidence to live, cook and host another day. Fabulous.

So now I'm ready to break out my 'come to dinner' dance card and see how fast I can fill it up. Oh to be the entertaining slut of the neighbourhood, an endless stream of cars, guests and wine flitting in and out every weekend. What ever will they think of us? I'm sure they won't care too much - as long as every once in a while they get an invite of their own so as to catch a glimpse inside the home of this diva hostess. Come for the curiosity, stay for the lasagna. Suburbia in a sentence.

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

The Truth Hurts..

Okay, so first, sorry for missing yesterday. Damned mother nature bitch slapped us Ontario folks and getting home was quite the challenge. Mental note - if you're trying to get home on a snowy, stormy day and you're right at the 401, don't make a stupid decision to trek up to the 407 to make your way across. Just get on the damned highway and start making progress. Ugh. Took us four and a half hours to get from Yorkdale to Whitby. That ain't right!

And to top it all off, it sure did mess up our plans. Tonight we were supposed to go snow tubing with a group of friends at a hill quite close to our home. Yippee! I really enjoy this form of winter entertainment - anything where I can sit on my butt in a huge rubber tube, grab onto a rope to be pulled up the hill so I can rush right back down again is totally up my alley. But alas, mother nature messed up those plans as well, so the gang was supposed to go for a pint or two. Since I never did hear where they were going or when they were going to be there, and it was well after 7pm by the time my week-weary bones shuffled off the train, we hit our local Blockbuster in yet another unsuccessful attempt to procure The Departed for the evening's viewing pleasure.

We didn't get what we had originally gone for, but left with something we'd wanted to see for ages - An Inconvenient Truth.

Now, I know many of you have seen this film and if you're reading this and haven't, I urge you to go out and get it so you can watch it this weekend. There are no special effects, no real eye candy (can't say Al Gore is at the top of my celebrity male hotties list - which is a whole other post, by the way), no witty dialogue (except for a few funny quips from Al), and no nail biting plot.

But it will still take your breath away and leave you speechless at the end.

It is peppered with more 'holy shit' moments than even I expected, and I'd heard and read so much hype about this movie I was prepped for many a revelation. And I most certainly was not disappointed.

What fascinated me, among many things, is the fact that cars in China get more miles to the gallon of fuel than those made in the US due to stricter environmental policies. Diva says whut? In my mind, I think China and immediately images of population density, communism and pollution spring to mind - that and every little item that resides on a Dollarama shelf (hell, pretty much any retail shelf, come to think about it). But to see this, you'd really think differently. I'm not saying that China is leading the world in its environmental policies - but this actually altered my perception of the entire nation. Now for a movie to do that - wow.

I consider myself to be rather energy conscious. I'm by no means a granola crunching tree hugger (Birkenstocks are not part of this diva's dress code) but I do try to do my part wherever possible. We're pretty steadfast in our dedication to recycling and composting, since we moved into our new place we've replaced every light bulb in the house with compact flourescents, we have energystar appliances, we have a seven day programmable thermostat so we're not keeping our house hot when we're not even here, we're going to pull out our furnace and install a high efficiency boiler, we have one car and I use public transit (then again, that's almost more a financial/circumstantial than environmental decision but I thought it was a good one to add to the list). Not too shabby, I suppose.

But I have to tell you, after watching this movie and seeing what's going on, I honestly wonder if I'm doing enough, if there's something more I should be considering, to help reduce this incredibly serious issue of global warming.

We all laugh and say it's not a bad thing - hell, any winter where it doesn't really snow until January seems pretty damned acceptable in my books - but in reality, no snow til January can and will also mean 35 degree summer days over and over again. And I don't know about you, but I do not look all pretty and girlie in 35 degree weather. I sweat. It trickles down my back and my entire hairline insta-soaks. I get ridiculously frizzy curly hair (actually, the humidity works for my hair - strike that one, I have a cute do in the sweaty summer months), and live in a permanent state of swass (yes, that is the kind and polite smushed up word for sweaty ass - come on, you know what I'm talking about).

Swass aside, it boggles the mind to think about how long we've known about this issue and how very, very little has been done about it. I sincerely have to give Al and The Gang snaps for putting the picture together so magnificently, and I find there's so much more credibility to his involvement in all this because in watching the film you realize that he's been championing this cause since he first got into politics decades ago and this isn't some bandwagon he jumped on because he wanted to keep his face in the limelight.

Interesting. I did my undergraduate degree in political science and in or around the year that I graduated - more than 10 years ago - it was noted that the number one issue that Canadians were concerned about was healthcare. Also on the list were the state of the economy, interest rates/inflation, taxes, the state of the general infrastructure (roads, etc)...pretty much anything you could think of - except the environment. While it was finally starting to be included on the list of possible responses, it invariably came last, garnering a measly three percentage points in the poll. Ouch - why even bother to be on the list?

The poor environment slunk home with its tail between its legs and crawled into a corner to weep at its fate. And look at us now.

There's a real change in the wind, and it's not just because of all the turbines you see dotting the horizon. The environment as an issue of concern to Canadians is experiencing a surge in 'popularity' never before seen in this country. If memory serves me correctly, one recent poll actually had it as the number one issue parents cited as a concern for their children's generation - take that, healthcare! Your reign of terror is over - make way for carbon dioxide!

All kidding aside, if any change is going to be made, if we want to leave our planet in livable condition for our children (be they born or working their way into our future plans) it's going to take all of us doing our part and standing up to say no more. The first step is going out to rent this movie if you haven't seen it already. If you have, you know what to do.

Truly, it's not rocket science. Having said that, I know a rocket scientist and he's not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but I digress. What I'm trying to say is that each one of us can make small changes that will have global impact.

To find out more about what you can do, go see the best guy in the land for some really sound advice - David Suzuki. He came up with that One Tonne Challenge which never really got off the ground - mostly because he didn't have any government backing, but that's another story - but still has many valid tips for reducing your CO2 emissions. Go to www.davidsuzuki.org/naturechallenge/ to find out more.

The gauntlet has been thrown, my diva friends! I'm kinda inspired - can you tell!? Hehe. I can't believe I'm about to quote Ghandi in my diva blog, but here goes - Be the change you want to see in the world, he said, and that's what I leave you with on this fine Friday. Now go, grab a glass of wine, turn down the thermostat, shut off a light or two, and find a way to make some heat of your own. You can save money, the environment AND have a lick or two of fun all at the same time. And it doesn't get much better than that.

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