I have two large drawers in my kitchen that are completely devoted to Tupperware and Tupperware lids.  There are also some distant cousins that live in these drawers that hail from the Ziploc family line.

One drawer is for lids, the other for bottoms.

There may only be 3 or 4 complete pairs on any given day; and that’s a VERY GOOD Tupperware day at my house.

It is a test of mental agility to wake up in the morning and complete the ‘do any of these lids and bottoms go together?’ skill test while still bleary eyed and in a semi-conscious state.  Eating a well rounded breakfast, getting dressed for work, and brushing your teeth are all requirements you should complete prior to finding a Tupperware container to hold your lunch.

Tip: DO NOT force a lid on even if you think it SHOULD go on.  This can result in minestrone soup down the front of your suit and all over the kitchen which will make you very grumpy AND late for work.

Is there an age-old feud between the lids and the bottoms that I just don’t know about?  That despite their interlocking abilities, they HATE each other?

This seems to be the only rational explanation to why lids and bottoms never stay together.

Ever single day I think about throwing away all the pieces that don’t match up, but I can’t risk it.  What if all of the sudden the missing lids make their way back home only to find that their mate has been tossed into the dumpster the day before?

I’m a busy woman.  I don’t have time to rummage through the dumpster to retrieve the discarded mates.  Until there is a better solution, I will have two kitchen drawers clogged up with useless pieces of plastic that cause me endless frustration.

Has anyone overcome the Tupperware feud? If so, HOW?!

1. Shock. No one believes it when you casually mention that on your birthday it was -46.1 Celsius, making it nearly the coldest place on the planet that day. AND that you still worked out, went out for lunch with friends, and spent the day shopping. It seems too epic to be real.

2. Boots. You need boots to live here and more than one pair. It is completely practical and rational to have at least 10 pairs of boots to go with all your outfits. I have yet to arrive as I only have 8 pairs. At least living in the arctic gives you good reason to go shoe shopping!

Tsubo, Nine West, Eject, Miss Mooz, Cougar, and London Fly you keep my feet oh so happy and warm!

3. Christmas Pounds. There is no hurry to shed the extra pounds gained over Christmas from eating scads of unhealthy foods while visiting with friends and family. Many layers, large coats, and heavy sweaters are required so you don’t die from exposure.
Is that muffin top 10 Christmas pounds or a bulky sweater…hmmmm….

4. Appreciation. When summer finally comes around there is a deep appreciation for warm weather, the ability to wear a tank top without dying, and sunlight. We are extremely grateful that we don’t have to plug in our cars, wear long underwear under our suits, or go to work and come home in the dark.

5. Winter Sports. Now I am not an outside dweller in the winter, but I married one. Skiing, speed skating, and ice hockey only require sports equipment and either your backyard or a friend’s. Fun times are literally just around the corner. Or for me, just in a coffee shop!

What do you like about dwelling in the arctic?

When my left eye finally cracked open, I saw three blurry numbers glaring back at me.

5:27

Apparently it was time to get up. In a moment of weakness, I had promised a girlfriend that I would meet her at the YMCA at 6:30 to go for an early morning run.

The only part of my body that was able to move was my left arm as it slapped the snooze button with authority.

Eight seconds later I was back into a solid REM cycle.

5:36

The loud voice of my favorite radio personality, Garner Andrews, was suddenly blaring in my ear. In that moment he was no longer my favorite.

I dragged my lazy self out of bed and finally opened both eyes. It wouldn’t do to be late for my early morning run. After all, today was my girlfriend’s first day back from a seven week absence due to injury.

As we ran in the cool -12 Celsius weather we caught up on each other’s lives. We shared the joys, trials, and funny moments since we had last seen each other.

Due to her injury, she was much slower than her usual pace; but it didn’t bother me at all. There have been many times when I was the slower one. The important thing was that we were out running.

You can’t do life alone; it is meant to be run together.

Who do you run the path of life with? Who makes sure you get your lazy self out of bed in the morning? Who are you sharing your life with, no matter what the pace?

When you do, you will find yourself doing things you never thought possible.

There are things I do which I find quirky, but may be more normal than I think.

• I put important things that I don’t want stolen in my underwear drawer.  For instance, I just tucked my passport away next to my bras because somehow this makes perfect sense to me. Perhaps I am giving thieves more credit than they deserve.  In my heart I think they will be respectful enough to not rummage through my unmentionables while robbing me blind; thus protecting the most important things in my house.Maybe I should just get a safety deposit box…
• I think the organization of a woman’s spice cupboard and how clean behind her fridge is tells you exactly what kind of woman she is. My spice cupboard is jammed full of things that aren’t even spices.  Heck, I have a smoke detector in there!

How can you find anything in there?

But I have this spice rack…so does it mean I can pull it together when absolutely necessary?

Perhaps my spice redemption?!

My fridge appears to be just fine from a quick glance.

What a happy little fridge; complete with pictures from the nieces on it.

But upon closer inspection, I’ve really let myself go!

Oh. My. Gosh. I can't believe no one told me how far gone I was!

This is why I will pull the fridge and stove to clean behind before people come over instead of dusting.  Then when they use this litmus test to see if I am a good woman I will pass with flying colors and the dusty pictures and lamps will go without notice.  Right?

• I put peanut butter on almost anything.  Bananas, any sort of bread product, apples, ice cream, Nutella, a spoon, a hunk of chocolate, vegetables, you name it! Some days I find myself standing in front of the open refrigerator with a jar of peanut butter in one hand searching for something worthy to pair it with. If nothing can be found I resort to eating it off a spoon.

• One of my life goals is to be able to masterfully bake a soufflé.  I don’t know why but it seems to be one of those things that separates the girls from the women.  And you never know when a soufflé emergency should arise…if called upon in such an emergency, I would want to be able to save the day.

Am I the only one?  Please tell me it isn’t so!

At the top of the document I noticed a random line item.

Complaint Fee:  $30

So let me get this straight.  If I don’t like my assessment I have to pay you 30 bucks to tell you that I don’t like it and you most likely aren’t going to do anything about it anyway?

The City of Edmonton is, quite simply, brilliant.

They not only reduced the amount of complaints they will receive by 100 fold, but they are going to make money off the really grouchy people that are going to complain come hell or high water.

I MUST implement this in my life.

If you want to complain I am more than happy to listen for five dollars (I figure undercutting the City of Edmonton might bring more business my way), but if you don’t want to pay I am not going to take your complaint.

Perhaps I need t-shirts made up…

Anyone else out there going to implement this million dollar idea?

I like to think Christmas is a time of connecting with family, remembering why the holiday exists in the first place, purchasing and wrapping gifts, and some quiet moments of rest…but let’s have a moment of honesty.  It’s a good excuse to eat everything you know you shouldn’t.

Cookies, candies, chocolate covered anything and everything, cakes, nuts, caramel corn, and pies are lurking all over the place.

A woman who is trying to eat ‘Primally‘ has no hope of success over Christmas unless she has a will of iron.  I forgot to ask Santa for that this Christmas.

Every Christmas my family vows to eat healthy and go for a run together every morning.

I last for one to two days at the most.

Then the sleeping in and sloth-like habits take over from sugar-induced comas.

At this point, we all WANT to be good, but can’t…

DL – Hey guys.  Ummm….are we going for a run today?
Thinner Family Member – Well, we are supposed to…perhaps later?
DL – Yeah.  Sure.  LATER it is.

Then when later comes, I am conveniently busy with a piece of cheesecake and just can’t go for a run.  Shoot!

Every year I get the SAME THING for Christmas – tight pants.

My question is – who ISN’T vowing to go on a diet tomorrow?

PS – I just ate my last *wink* peanut butter and chocolate cookie…

They are horrible.

1. Skiing. Strapping boards to your feet, climbing thousands of feet up a steep part of a mountain, and then sliding down while trying not to die is a bad idea. Perhaps it’s because I am not sports inclined, but getting frostbite while contemplating your life with only two small poles to keep you from death is not my idea of fun.
2. White water kayaking. When you find yourself hanging upside down in the water while strapped into a small plastic boat heading straight into the rapids, you will understand. Can anyone say ‘air’?
3. Tole Painting. People look so serene and happy painting flowers, birds, and other kitschy things on wooden objects. In reality it’s a practice in learning how not to swear while doing a genteel lady’s craft. The art isn’t about painting at all, it’s actually appearing to be kind and gentle all while fighting the intense desire to harm someone.
4. Running marathons. The prestige associated with marathon runners is huge; everyone seems to revere a person that can run 26 miles straight. Don’t get me wrong, it’s completely impressive but who wants to spend 3 hours a day running around instead of drinking lattes and catching up with friends? All so that you can pay money to run in a race and get a t-shirt. Something isn’t adding up for me.
5. Martha Stewart recipes. Martha is a horrible, vindictive woman that is not on the everyday woman’s team. She creates fabulous magazines with beautiful pictures of food that seem attainable. What she fails to tell you is each recipe requires at least one ingredient that can’t be sourced unless you have black market connections and at the end of your 3 hour meticulous baking extravaganza you will only have 24 odd looking cookies to show for all your hard work.
6. Canning. Take at least one whole day of your life, cut vegetables or fruit for 6 hours, shove them into jars, and then cook them in a huge vat on your stove for hours on end. After 12 hours, your house is hotter than a sauna and you’ve used up all your energy for the week. The only reason to can anything is if you don’t have a grocery store within 200 kms of your house.
7. Pedicures. I love shoes and am a known shoe-aholic. I need those calluses to be able to wear all my shoes and don’t want to pay someone money to touch my feet for an hour and make all my shoes painful to wear. It’s just a bad idea.
8. Swimsuit shopping. Whenever a girl plans a trip to a tropical place, a new swimsuit is required. It seems like fun to go get a cute new suit for your trip until you are standing underneath florescent lights with all your cottage cheese, droopiness, and muffin top hanging out for the world to see. All of the sudden it is clear why some women opt for muumuus instead of bikinis.
9. Riding the teacups. Going to the fair is always fun and nostalgic, and at times the nostalgia can get you into trouble. You find yourself thinking that riding the childhood rides is a good idea. Halfway into the teacup ride while trying to hold down your chili dog and caramel apple you remember why the dizzying ride is only good for people under the age of 12.
10. Gardening. It seems romantic to till the earth, plant seeds, and watch the fruits of your labor grow. After fighting weeds, rocks, drought, and bugs for 8 weeks all you have to show for your labor of love are 8 tomatoes, 4 zucchinis, and 7 ears of sad looking corn. The lettuce comes in right away, but is out of season by the time your meager amount of tomatoes and zucchini are ready to be eaten. Since you have to go to the grocery store anyways for veggies for the lettuce, why not skip the stress of the garden and leave the veggie growing to the professionals?

If you are thinking about attempting any of these things, I suggest you don’t.

What is on your list of things that look fun but aren’t?

This weekend I traveled up north to Athabasca in the -27 degree Celsius weather to visit a fabulous friend from the coast that was visiting another fabulous friend who happens to live in Athabasca.

While traveling on the one lane highway covered in snow and ice, I saw a rather odd sign after passing a VERY small town that consisted of a gas station, 5 trees, and a fork in the road.  It read:

CAUTION.  Wild Animal Crossing Next 40 KMS.

My question is how do you know when the wild animals are going to cross?  In the city, we have amber lights that flash when pedestrians want to cross the road.  It is very organized.  The drivers slow down and the people cross without mishap.

So you don't harm the people on foot while driving.

When a herd of wild horses burst out of the trees and run next to your car and onto the road, there are no amber lights flashing.  You have to deftly maneuver the car to a quick halt without sliding all over the road or maiming a horse that has decided to cross NOW and bring all his friends along to circle your car for awhile.  It takes all your womanly mental strength to not scream while slowing down as fast as the ice will allow and avoid the monstrous four legged creatures.

Amber lights anyone?

Once I realized I had stayed on the road and didn’t need to drag the carcass of a dead horse off the road, all I could think was: “Who’s horses are these and why are they outside in the cold weather without even mittens on their hooves?! ”

Don’t horses get cold?  Shouldn’t they be wearing more than their God-given coats when it’s -27 degrees Celsius outside?

Is this something that all non-city people know the answer to?  Someone, help me!

I remember being 18 and thinking that people who were 30 are mature, smart, and have it together. According to the 18-year-old Donloree I am smart, sassy, and sophisticated. At least I’m keeping up appearances!

In my 18-year-old and highly idealistic state, I remember thinking by the time I was 30 I would:

• be a brain surgeon;
• have traveled most of the world;
• created a life saving solution for people dying in Africa; and
• become independently wealthy.

Ummm…I haven’t done any of those things, and don’t think I will accomplish any of them in the next two weeks…unless I win the lottery, purchase some degrees on the black market, and broker an international solution to end poverty and hunger all while living on a plane for the next two weeks.

So if you don’t hear from me over the next two weeks, it’s because I am busy brokering international deals while in flight over the South Pacific.

Anyone else out there struggling with turning the big 3-0?

Even though I am a woman I was never sure why we went in groups; so one day I broke the rule and went alone.

My best friend Nancy and I were out shopping at our favorite store looking for high-end jeans and designer shoes on clearance.  We grabbed a latte to sustain us during our intensive shopping and started combing the racks for fabulous deals.

Halfway through the jeans section my very efficient kidneys got to work on my partially finished latte. I looked up and Nancy was nowhere in sight.  Due to the conditioning of going to the bathroom as a group, I searched the perimeter of the store to see if she wanted to come along to the bathroom.  I couldn’t find her and my kidneys were hard at work.

I went to the bathroom alone.

Exiting the stall, I grabbed my latte and tried to unlatch the door.  It would not open.  I put the latte down and used both hands and all my might, but the door remained firmly locked.  I pushed, pounded, jiggled, and shook the door, yet I remained in the bathroom stall…all alone.

Bewildered as what to do next, I sat down and waited for an unsuspecting woman to use the stall without toilet paper.  I devised a plan that was dependent on the woman not checking the paper supply.

Women in Paperless Stall – Oh my!  There seems to be no toilet paper in here.
DL – Oh boy!  That’s not good!  Do you want me to pass you some toilet paper?
WiPS – Yes please.  That would be splendid.
DL – OK.  One condition though.
WiPS – Conditional toilet paper?
DL – Yes.  I am stuck in here and require a Phillips screwdriver to remove the door of the stall.  I will give you toilet paper if you promise to come back with the necessary tools to free me from this stall.
WiPS – Ummm…OK….

I waited patiently for 20 minutes, yet no one came.

I tried using a dime to remove the door from the stall to no avail.

I was reduced to yelling for help.

Still no one came.

My latte was finished as well as my patience.  I took matters into my own hands.  There were only 2 options of escape; over or under.  Taking into account my tendency to fall over and near death experiences, I chose under.  Taking a deep breath and an assessment of the public bathroom floor’s lack of cleanliness, I dropped to the ground, shoved my purse out ahead of me, and started the task of birthing myself out of the stall.

Halfway through my escape I heard the creak of the door open to reveal a very shocked woman looking down at me.

After 25 minutes of being locked in a public bathroom stall I merely continued emerging from my bathroom prison, stood up, and gathered as much dignity as possible while brushing about a week’s worth of bathroom grime off my chest.

My explanation of, “Umm…Hello…I was locked in…” didn’t help to wipe the look of complete confusion and amazement off the woman’s face.

I was so happy to be free that I just continued to brush off the grime that accumulated on my body during my escape, washed my hands, and went in search of an employee to let them know they were down one stall in the ladies room.

Now I know why women go to the bathroom in groups.  You never know when you need someone to watch your latte or go in search of power tools to free you from a bathroom stall.

I learned my lesson the hard way and haven’t gone alone since.