I've been paying a lot more attention to home furnishing lately. With the thought of moving out of the downtown apartment I've been in for the past three years, and moving into the Boy's northeast digs, it's fun to imagine what I can do to make "our" place prettier. He's well aware that I'm not a fan of some elements of his place, and now that it's no longer all peach, we can start to think about getting rid of the awesome university-style futon or the kitchen set that was last reupholstered before he was born.
Combined with the fact that we now have digital cable and an onslaught of American networks, it becomes very disheartening to see commercials from American companies with low-low-low prices. If only we were in the US, look at the bargains we could be getting! More and more often, these commercials are for DirectBuy, a company which apparently skips the retailer so you work directly with the manufacturers.
While daydreaming of new home furnishings lately, it has come to my attention that DirectBuy is not solely an American company afterall. You can Direct Buy Ontario and Alberta. My question is this: has anyone ever used this company before? Have you had a good, bad, or lukewarm experience? There's a free visitor's pass available on the website, but does anyone know how much it costs to actually be a member?
I'm daydreaming of pretty kitchens and cabinets and living rooms and wondering if this company is worth it. I do love a bargain.
Showing posts with label Ontario. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ontario. Show all posts
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Sparkly!
It's been a while since I've posted here; Google Reader has made it painfully clear how long I've been away. I was in Ontario, celebrating love with my Valentine and having a family meal on Family Day, the first family meal since Christmas break 2007. It was wonderful.
I'm picking up where I left off, with a Monday Memory that flooded back when I opened my Valentine's present.
Don't get me wrong, sparkly things distract me to no end. I used to run into walls because of my sparkly, sequined purple flats. But the thing inside the box that brought the biggest smile to my face on Valentine's Day was not the beautiful, sparkly, heart-shaped, pink and white sapphire necklace The Boy picked out (seriously, he has become a master at jewelry giving), but it was the circular object accompanying that necklace.
It was a pink, sparkly jelly bracelet.
Shortly after The Boy and I started dating, we went to the arcade in West Edmonton Mall. We played silly games for quite some time before cashing in our tokens on some prizes. Mine was a pink, sparkly jelly bracelet, which adorned my wrist for months before it finally broke and fell off.
The fact that The Boy remembered this when it had nearly slipped from my mind completely, and went back to the arcade to play games some afternoon so he could replace my cheap, albeit beloved, bracelet warmed my wee heart. Though I may not wear it every single day non-stop, it serves as a precious reminder of the beginning of our relationship and how far we've come. I love it. And I'm wearing it now.
Heart.
I'm picking up where I left off, with a Monday Memory that flooded back when I opened my Valentine's present.
Don't get me wrong, sparkly things distract me to no end. I used to run into walls because of my sparkly, sequined purple flats. But the thing inside the box that brought the biggest smile to my face on Valentine's Day was not the beautiful, sparkly, heart-shaped, pink and white sapphire necklace The Boy picked out (seriously, he has become a master at jewelry giving), but it was the circular object accompanying that necklace.
It was a pink, sparkly jelly bracelet.
Shortly after The Boy and I started dating, we went to the arcade in West Edmonton Mall. We played silly games for quite some time before cashing in our tokens on some prizes. Mine was a pink, sparkly jelly bracelet, which adorned my wrist for months before it finally broke and fell off.
The fact that The Boy remembered this when it had nearly slipped from my mind completely, and went back to the arcade to play games some afternoon so he could replace my cheap, albeit beloved, bracelet warmed my wee heart. Though I may not wear it every single day non-stop, it serves as a precious reminder of the beginning of our relationship and how far we've come. I love it. And I'm wearing it now.
Heart.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Monday Memories: "there she was just walkin' down the street"
Shocker: I hate doing dishes. I always have. This menial task was always a source of contention in the Bee household with Momma explaining that we didn't need a dishwasher because she had three of them: one to wash, one to dry, and one to clean off the table and put the dishes away.
As soon as a meal was finished, the competition would begin. No one liked to dry. Clearing the table and putting dishes away was the easiest of the tasks, so it was the most highly coveted. Kiki, the world's slowest eater, often seemed like she was merely taking her sweet time to get put on the latter task by default. Those who had to skip out of the house early for soccer practice would rejoice in the fact that they had been saved.
There was one thing that could save us from killing each other during dish time -- Mom's old Solid Gold cassettes. It wasn't possible to be bitter when you were busy shaking your hips and singing "Lollypop" or "Do Wah Diddy Diddy". Singing along to those tapes made us seem like friendly siblings between the brush-throwing and hair-pulling. It provided a glimpse of what life would be like when we all surpassed the "bitchy teenage girl" stage and moved away from home. It's not saying that we're perfect all of the time now, but the way that we get along is much more as it was when we were dancing together to those old hits than it was when we were hurling random objects and mean comments at each other.
So, little one, if you want to maybe do your big sister a favour and make her a copy of those old tunes that you've scrounged up... she'd make sure you were rewarded appropriately. Hint, hint.
As soon as a meal was finished, the competition would begin. No one liked to dry. Clearing the table and putting dishes away was the easiest of the tasks, so it was the most highly coveted. Kiki, the world's slowest eater, often seemed like she was merely taking her sweet time to get put on the latter task by default. Those who had to skip out of the house early for soccer practice would rejoice in the fact that they had been saved.
There was one thing that could save us from killing each other during dish time -- Mom's old Solid Gold cassettes. It wasn't possible to be bitter when you were busy shaking your hips and singing "Lollypop" or "Do Wah Diddy Diddy". Singing along to those tapes made us seem like friendly siblings between the brush-throwing and hair-pulling. It provided a glimpse of what life would be like when we all surpassed the "bitchy teenage girl" stage and moved away from home. It's not saying that we're perfect all of the time now, but the way that we get along is much more as it was when we were dancing together to those old hits than it was when we were hurling random objects and mean comments at each other.
So, little one, if you want to maybe do your big sister a favour and make her a copy of those old tunes that you've scrounged up... she'd make sure you were rewarded appropriately. Hint, hint.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Dear Facebook: Oh no you didn't!
Facebook likes to recommend friends for people, as anyone who subscribes to the social networking site knows. It also likes to rub old relationships, and old friendships, in our face. As well-intentioned as Facebook is, it just has no idea of the reasons why I'm not friends with Leah T.
To be honest, neither do I, really.
We were best friends in grades nine and ten. We were enrolled in nearly all the same classes, and we were both pretty smart and fairly shy, which was probably why we were drawn together. We didn't drink. We had sleepovers. We watched Much Music, back when it was all about the music and less about the reality programming. She lived down the road from my great aunt and uncle. We shared lunch hours and a locker. We went to dances together to gush over boys we were crushing on and bop awkwardly while boys asked us to dance, or we got up the nerve to ask them.
Somewhere along the lines, I got a bit more outgoing and picked up friends in a different crowd through work and she found more smart, shy people in art class. No big deal. We were still best friends, and nothing could change that, right? That's what I thought, until the day a boy came between us.
No, no, it wasn't like that. It wasn't necessarily the boy that came between us per se, it was more our attitudes toward boys. I was of the opinion that boys were lame and didn't pick up on subtle hints that you were into them, and she was of the opinion that letting a boy know that you liked him would result in a fate worse than death. She had a thing for this cute blond boy in our grade, and wouldn't shut up about him. After a while, I got sick of the whining about how he never took an interest in her and so I did the good best friend thing, I chatted him up casually to see if he was interested.
A mutual friend had overheard me and put two and two together, and went to ask Leah if she was into him. And that was the last day that Leah talked to me. I explained myself, and neither of us ever did find out if he was into her or not, but she never forgave me. They remained friends, but we didn't. I was heartbroken. I was also outraged. She always had such similar advice to boys that I was into, telling me to put myself out there and whatnot, and not only was she afraid to do the same but she was willing to end our friendship because of it? Ridiculous. She moved her stuff out of the locker, and after a while I quit trying to talk to her.
Facebook, I don't want to be friends with Leah T., as interested as I am to find out where she is and what she's done with her life, I'm pretty certain she's still not over it. Thanks for trying, anyway.
To be honest, neither do I, really.
We were best friends in grades nine and ten. We were enrolled in nearly all the same classes, and we were both pretty smart and fairly shy, which was probably why we were drawn together. We didn't drink. We had sleepovers. We watched Much Music, back when it was all about the music and less about the reality programming. She lived down the road from my great aunt and uncle. We shared lunch hours and a locker. We went to dances together to gush over boys we were crushing on and bop awkwardly while boys asked us to dance, or we got up the nerve to ask them.
Somewhere along the lines, I got a bit more outgoing and picked up friends in a different crowd through work and she found more smart, shy people in art class. No big deal. We were still best friends, and nothing could change that, right? That's what I thought, until the day a boy came between us.
No, no, it wasn't like that. It wasn't necessarily the boy that came between us per se, it was more our attitudes toward boys. I was of the opinion that boys were lame and didn't pick up on subtle hints that you were into them, and she was of the opinion that letting a boy know that you liked him would result in a fate worse than death. She had a thing for this cute blond boy in our grade, and wouldn't shut up about him. After a while, I got sick of the whining about how he never took an interest in her and so I did the good best friend thing, I chatted him up casually to see if he was interested.
A mutual friend had overheard me and put two and two together, and went to ask Leah if she was into him. And that was the last day that Leah talked to me. I explained myself, and neither of us ever did find out if he was into her or not, but she never forgave me. They remained friends, but we didn't. I was heartbroken. I was also outraged. She always had such similar advice to boys that I was into, telling me to put myself out there and whatnot, and not only was she afraid to do the same but she was willing to end our friendship because of it? Ridiculous. She moved her stuff out of the locker, and after a while I quit trying to talk to her.
Facebook, I don't want to be friends with Leah T., as interested as I am to find out where she is and what she's done with her life, I'm pretty certain she's still not over it. Thanks for trying, anyway.
This post is part of my new feature "Monday Memories".
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Examples the West being so very different from Ontario #389
The job market in Ontario is close to impossible. Hundreds of candidates battle it out for low-paying jobs. However... in Yellowknife, an employer is attempting to recruit workers from the drunk tank.
Yes, Yellowknife is not Alberta, but things are pretty crazy here too. I've had friends that have been visiting and they've been offered full-time jobs. Help wanted signs are everywhere. Companies offer English as a Second Language training in the workplace. They fly people in and accomodate them from Sri Lanka. They fly over Japanese students in attempts to lure them into moving their post-graduate lives to this province. Workers make the demands and the employers jump through hoops to attract and retain skilled workers. Madness, I tell you.
Incredibly awesome madness. The opportunities really are endless.
Yes, Yellowknife is not Alberta, but things are pretty crazy here too. I've had friends that have been visiting and they've been offered full-time jobs. Help wanted signs are everywhere. Companies offer English as a Second Language training in the workplace. They fly people in and accomodate them from Sri Lanka. They fly over Japanese students in attempts to lure them into moving their post-graduate lives to this province. Workers make the demands and the employers jump through hoops to attract and retain skilled workers. Madness, I tell you.
Incredibly awesome madness. The opportunities really are endless.
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