Sweet Chocolate Bliss

"Do NOT Touch my Chocolato!"
AKA: The birth place of "Talk to the Hand."

My deepest gratitude to those Ancient Mayans and their discovery of chocolate. It truly makes my life complete.

As do my children. And The Drew. And the dog is pretty special, too. Of course that all goes without saying, right?

Recently I was interviewed by fellow Winnipeg writer, Susan Rocan for her delightful blog, My Withershins, named after her spell binding young adult novel, Withershins. (That's correct that was a blatant plug for her book.)

After asking me all the important authoresque questions, she got to the deets on what makes me tick - my favourite comfort food.

Without hesitation I listed chocolate in all it's glorious forms. Chocolate covered strawberries. Silky caramel en-robed in chocolate. Triple chocolate cookies as big as your face. (Because really, life is far too short for tiny treats.)

Today I discovered another chocolate delicacy, thanks to IKEA.

Winnipeg IKEA. Not even blizzards keep us away!

Yes, we Winnipeggers were overjoyed to welcome North America's largest IKEA to town earlier this year. And yes, IKEA is all we were hoping for in terms of inexpensive furniture, fabulous bedding, and shelves overflowing with kitschy nic-nacs.

My favourite IKEA find was their sweetly icing'd cinnamon buns. So cheap, so tasty, so yum.  Until today.

My discovery is so ground breaking it is...

 Beachus Interruptous Blogus Worthyum. 

(latin for: must share with other chocoholics, pronto.)

So here it is:

Jodi's 10 steps to IKEA Chocolate Nirvana

First, find a parking spot at your closest IKEA. Good luck.

Second, race to the foods section with your environmentally friendly cloth bag.

Third, load up on 99 cent milk chocolate bars as well as the darkest IKEA bar you can find.

Fourth, skip merrily to your car. If you can find it. Don't let chocolate delirium cloud your memory. Concentrate. You can find that automobile. If all else fails, pound on you key fob's panic button. Then follow the ear piercing siren. What do you care?  You're rich with chocolate.

Fifth, zip home. Carefully, my fellow chocolate addicts. You are almost to the chocolatey goodness part. Don't blow it with a speeding ticket.

Sixth, brew some coffee. Or pour a tall ice cold glass of milk. I leave the beverage of choice in your capable, now shaking hands.

Seventh, crack off large pieces of both the milk and dark chocolate bars. Lay one on top of the other. No, it doesn't matter which is on top. This is G-Rated peeps. Gheesh.

Eighth, bite into your IKEA chocolate stack. Chomp slowly, savouring the flavour.

Ninth, sip your freshly brewed coffee/icy milk.

Tenth, close your eyes and relax. You have entered IKEA Chocolate Nirvana

Did this photo make your heart skip a beat? 

Stay tuned for my next food related blog post:

The Carmichael Family Spaghetti Recipe

(Feeds 11 hungry, beach weary Canadians with leftovers for 4)

Seconds of Grammar Anyone?

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I’m sure our doctor friends discuss medical terms over roast beef and our teacher friends discuss classroom behaviour issues when sipping steaming soup. In our big yellow house, we talk writing. And drawing.  And movie making.


We are a creative home where all artistic endeavours are supported and nurtured, even to the detriment of the state of our house. (Please see Exhibit A - my blog, Move Over Mr. Speilberg,  to understand my aversion to glitter.)

Recently my Sarah wrote a book based on her sister’s babyhood sleep issues. She insisted I take it to my writing group, The Anitas, and read it to them. I was under strict instruction not to tell them she asked me to do so. Sarah also asked when I thought I could get it published.

She suggested, "A month, maybe two?"

Ah, if publication was only so simple, youngest grasshopper.

So the other night, while slurping our spaghetti, we discussed words that are pronounced the same, but have different meanings. For instance, “right” as in correct and “write” as in what I like to do when not sleeping. Through our supper, we progressed through dozens of words, thinking ourselves highly intelligent and incredibly humorous.

During dessert, Emma’s eyes grew wide. I was sure she would have the best word of the evening.

“Hey," she shouted, eyes a’ sparklin’, “Are these, like, homophobes?”

Ah, eldest grasshopper, you have taught the teacher. We Carmichaels are not as smart as we thought. You brought our egos down to earth and made us revisit basic grammar rules - and doesn't that sound fun?

Next dinner discussion – homophones v.s. homophobes – one is fun word play, the other never funny. Compare and contrast.

Any takers? We have a table that sits 12 - almost comfortably!

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