Keira-anne.com

Normally I’m a very calm-spirited person. My usually mellow demeanor rarely ever gets rocked (except on the days at the office on which I want to, quite literally, rip my hair out) because I seem to have an uncanny knack for letting things roll off my back. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to truly not sweat the small stuff and, more importantly, I’ve learned how to pick my battles. There is one instance, however, that causes my impatience to rear its not-so-pretty head: getting from point ‘A’ to point ‘B’ in downtown Vancouver.

Photo: dejahthoris on Flickr

I love to walk and normally would do so, but at nighttime, that’s a different story. Last night I waited for the #6 Downtown bus to haul me over to Gastown. According to Translink’s website, the #6 should ideally come by at regular intervals, sometimes only four minutes apart. The trip from Davie and Bute to Cordova and Seymour is scheduled to take 15 minutes in the early evening. The trip took me 45 minutes. By the time I arrived at my transfer point to take me down Cordova street, I was frustratedly drumming my fingertips, only to see two middle-aged men imitating me. If looks could kill, the glare I shot them surely would’ve knocked them down dead in a nanosecond.

For those of you who live in the West End, you have probably noticed the gaggles of bus drivers who pull their buses to the curb, shut off their engines and “shoot the shit” with other drivers at English Bay. Want to know a little known fact? They aren’t allowed to do this! I questioned someone I know who’s rather high up with our local transit authority and he confirmed this; unfortunately, there’s really not much the company can do to stop their drivers from slacking off. This probably explains why your bus and my bus always comes late.

Photo: fnord prefect on Flickr

Fortunately for me, hybrid taxis are most definitely an option. The truth is, 9 times out of 10, I grab a cab. Once in a while I decide to take a chance on the bus system, only to always end up disappointed. And when you look at constantly rising transit costs, when the cross-town trip costs me $2.50 on a bus or $7.50 in cab fare, the extra five bucks is worth the half hour in travel time saved.

Now that I’ve ended my rant, you tell me: what’s your preferred method of transport downtown?

Oui, c’est vrai! Sometimes a girl needs a little retail therapy to make herself feel better, and sometimes she needs it for no reason whatsoever. Today was one of those “no reason whatsoever” days. A quick lunchtime trip to Holt Renfrew allowed me to cross off an item on my summertime list of wants. Daisy by Marc Jacobs was being offered in a gift set for a little over one hundred smackers, so it was a deal I couldn’t quite pass up.

My day of delicious-smelling fortune didn’t end there. A few weeks ago, I found my way to my usual salon in an attempt to re-stock up on my Bumble and bumble staples, only to be disappointed that their Gentle shampoo and Alojoba conditioner were on back order. To tide myself over, I grabbed a travel size bottle of each and made my way home again. However, I soon discovered that something wasn’t quite right with the shampoo. Worried that B&b had changed the formula of the one shampoo I’ve used for years on end (with no build-up, I must add), I fired off an e-mail to B&b in New York. There’s a rotten apple in every sack, and it seems I must’ve simply got a bogus bottle through no fault of B&b’s. I know for a fact that their products are rigorously tested in an effort to maintain top quality, and so as a token of goodwill and excellent customer service, B&b offered to send me a full-size replacement bottle.

Naturally, I gladly accepted.

My next beauty product-related dilemma isn’t too far away. I’m dangerously close to being completely out of my Kiehl’s products, but to be honest, it’s not the end of the world. After a few months’ use, I’m less than impressed and am now trying to decide between going back to old, affordable faithful (Clinique) or revisiting new, yet expensive, stellar-liciousness (Ren). Any input, ladies and gentlemen?

On Friday I told you that I live for weekends, and the last two days are exemplary proof of that. Saturday’s sunrise walk and yoga practice were the perfect way to begin my day, and everything only got better from there (including the Skinny Peaches from Jugo Juice that Jennifer and I grabbed on the way home).

Saturday

After cleaning up and showering, I headed out to meet up with Amy, Peanut, Casey and Benji before heading to Crab Park. I can’t think of a better way in which we could have enjoyed the warm sun rays.

Amy made me pose.

Casey had a blast chasing his favourite rubber bone. He even managed to sucker a lady into throwing the bone for him for a solid half hour.

Original Photo: Amelia Burrows on Flickr

Classic pose, everytime.

Photo: Amelia Burrows on Flickr

One of my favourite reasons for going to Crab Park is meeting interesting people. We came across a backpacker from the east coast and his dog, Cuddles. Apparently she’s a very unfriendly 13-year-old pup, but she seemed to take to Peanut like a fish to water.

Original Photo: Amelia Burrows on Flickr

Since they spend most of their time cooped up in an apartment, I love seeing how thrilled Benji and Casey become when they’ve got endless green turf to run around on while they play and laugh in their special doggy laughs. Also, being that he’s not terribly fond of other dogs, it’s a rare occurrence that Benji actually likes Peanut, so Amy and I are encouraging as many playdates as possible.

Video: Amelia Burrows on Flickr

After the park, Amy and I went to one of my favourite little gems in Gastown, Farfalla, on East Cordova. Each of the tea tables was adorned with a little lilac blossom and the scent was heavenly.

Following a hearty meal from McDonald’s, I spent Saturday evening watching ‘The Kite Runner,’ a beautiful film based on a popular, best-selling book. The story chronicles two young boys and best friends in Afghanistan in the late 1970s, one from privilege and the other being the son of a servant. As the Russians invade, the privileged boy and his father flee to Pakistan and eventually the United States. Twenty-two years later he receives an unnerving call from his childhood friend and subsequently embarks on a journey back to his homeland. All I can do is encourage you to see this film.

Sunday

On Sunday morning I woke early to pillage the shelves at Urban Fare in preparation of a birthday feast. Being that Sequoyah was the birthday boy, I told him he could have whatever he wanted for dinner. His request was simply: “lasagna, extra cheesy…and a chocolate football cake!”

I set out making the cake first.

Any chance I get to bust out my pink measuring cups and cocoa is not one I’ll pass up.

The football cake in all its candle-lit glory.

I found what was supposed to be a fantastic lasagna recipe that uses three different cheeses (in order to fulfill the birthday boy’s request). It got a big thumbs up…

Cooking in layers is a fun experience.

The ricotta cheese wasn’t suppose to contain spinach, but what fun is cooking if you can’t deviate from the recipe a little bit?

Lilah called it “scrumptious!” I’m pretty sure I haven’t heard that word, or a variation thereof, since the last time I watched ‘Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.’

Sequoyah wasn’t the only one celebrating a birthday this weekend. The Bee turned four yesterday!

It was Sequoyah’s lasagna, so he got the honour of cutting it.

After all the birthday festivities, the littlest pup was all tuckered out and fell asleep nicely on my knee.

Today brings another work week and I’m already in the thick of things but have so much more fun to look forward to (like ‘Juno’ on DVD, Army & Navy’s shoe sale and Tequila Kitchen with friends).

This morning I woke with the sun and made an early morning trek to Chinatown to partake in a Hidden Language yoga class with two beautiful ladies, Phaedra and Jennifer. Being more of one who enjoys the practice of yoga as a whole (being mind, spirit and body), I was sure that this class held the benefits I desired. I am not sure what I believe in terms of ideas such as chakras and energy centres, but I’m open minded and not at all oblivious to the fact that we each possess a great deal of our own insights; the question is how do we tap into those insights? I may have tapped into some of my awareness with one simple question asked of each of us during our practice: “What do you know in your heart?”

I suddenly dropped my head in an effort to halt the tears I knew wanted to come. The answer came instantly and it came clear.

Love is grassroots.

Photo: Baileyblack on Flickr

As I sat in meditation, I saw the faces of the people in my life that I love. I saw my family members, my friends. What struck me about my love for them is how it is I demonstrate it to them. Love isn’t exemplified through encouragement notes or gifts or acting sweetly. It isn’t even necessarily validated through words.

Love is an action that we take. It is forgiveness, understanding, caring. To truly love somebody is to see the beauty in them that they often don’t see themselves. Sometimes they refuse to see it.

Real love is the most complex concept demonstrated in the most simple of ways.

I live for Fridays. Actually, scratch that - I live for weekends. I relish time spent in quiet; completely un-rushed. Waking in the morning with sunlight spilling all over the floor, crisp coffee, pajamas until noon, leg warmers, movie marathons and time to do whatever I please to do (or not do). This weekend is no exception.

Amy and I have planned a “doggy date” with three little munchkins in the sunshine that Vancouver is supposed to be blessed with tomorrow. Also this weekend marks a birthday, so I am honoured with the duty of spending all of Sunday in the kitchen, cooking and baking up a storm. Truth be told, the Martha Stewart in me adores the task and I’m more than excited about it.

In the spirit of all things Friday at 5pm, here’s a little link love to kick off your weekend…

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been burning through all six seasons of HBO’s ‘Oz.’ In a nutshell, the program follows a large group of inmates in a fictional maximum security correctional facility in an unnamed U.S. state. Within the Oswald State Correctional Facility - or “Oz” as it’s known on the street - exists a place called “Emerald City” (aka “Em City”).

Em City is an experimental unit within the prison where inmates are allowed to wear their own clothes, interact with each other and work at jobs within the prison on the conditions that they attend classes and rehabilitation counselling, to name a few particulars. What’s most interesting about the cell block is that Aryans, Spanish, Irish, Muslims and a number of other ethnic groups attempt to co-exist together. Beyond that, I’ll not say anything because there are several people I know who have recently been turned on to the show and I would hate to ruin anything for any of them.

Photo: Ughman on Flickr

Yes, I do realize that this show is a work of fiction. At the end of each day, I’m sure the characters each washed off their “tattoos” before going home to their wives and children to prepare for another day’s work. However, it is the raw reality of humanity that this program touched on through actors (who are incredibly symbolic of you, me and the people before and behind you) that moved me in my core. And while none of it is true, the show is based on truth - human truth. The dialogue and the events quite literally force one to re-examine what we hold tight to through watching others experience similar circumstances.

“There are some confessions you can’t even make to yourself. Yearnings, desires, that you admitted to having you’d had to stop being who you are. And the facade you build so carefully will crumble, exposing to those around you, what really makes you tick.”

Last night I watched the very final episodes, and what I came to realize in those last few hours was, simply put, devastating. In one of the final episodes, tensions arose over the fate of a prisoner who was being held on death row and whether or not it was “ethical” to execute him as had been ordered by the State.

As the clock ticked down and straps were fastened, I found myself suddenly in a pool of my own tears as I sat there on my living room floor. I cried. I cried harder than I have in months, my body heaving in sobs.

Photo: Prof. Jas. Mundie on Flickr

That humanity I spoke of - the raw reality of it - it’s something that is too quickly defined without any true consideration. As I sat watching that particular scene, what struck me opened up a floodgate that brought out the heavy grief. Different values are placed on different lives, and each time, the basis for that evaluation is unique.

Let’s say one man takes another man’s life and so it’s considered by some as justifiable to strap him to a chair and thrust electric currents through his body or pump his arm full of venomous toxins. It’s a sense of redemption to the family of the man who was killed. But what about the executed man’s family? Are they not left with the same void?

And while I know the death penalty isn’t a method of punishment used in Canada, it’s wide-spread in many areas of the United States and many, many countries around the world. However, my point here is not about whether or not it’s okay to sentence someone to die. My point is that what matters most is to look behind the moral wrongdoing and look at the person. This very idea is what watching ‘Oz’ has prompted me to do.

Photo: Hotel Lyric [35] on Flickr

While it’s true that prisons are packed full of murderers, arsonists, rapists and the like, at the heart of the matter, they are all still people whether men or women. Behind the moral wrongdoings are sons and daughters, people with heart and true emotions. Somewhere along the way, their moral compasses became scrambled - even if only for a moment - and has changed their lives completely.

“So, what have we learned? What’s the lesson for today? For all the never-ending days and restless nights in Oz? That morality is transient? That virtue cannot exist without violence? That to be honest is to be flawed? That the giving and taking of love both debases and elevates us? That God or Allah or Yahweh has answers to questions we dare not even ask? The story is simple: a man lives in prison and dies. How he dies? That’s easy. The who and the why is the complex part. The human part. The only part worth knowing…”

It is so easy and quick to judge and label these “criminals and scumbags,” but are those of us on the outside really that much better than these people? Who of us has not lied to our loved ones, stolen, cheated, raged or delighted in our own dances with malice?

If there were laws against such trespasses of the heart, we would all be guilty.

Last week’s post about the impending summer season got the ball rolling in my head, and I’m actually finding myself looking forward to sunny days and hot nights. However, thinking about such things has turned into somewhat of a slippery slope. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve put any sort of significant punch of new items into my wardrobe. I got to thinking about what I need to stock up on, and the prospect of shopping has got me rather excited. It wasn’t until I was walking home from the office today and did some mathematics in my head that I realized I might be a few dollars short of what I need want, ideally, to stock my closet.

Photo: cmdrray on Flickr

Let’s do the math together, shall we?

_____ _____ large tote, Coach, $398.00
_____ _____ _____ wedge shoe, Keds, $59.99
_____ _____ skimmer shoe, Keds, $39.99
_____ _____ _____ perfume, Holt Renfrew, $80.00
_____ _____ _____ dress, Bebe, $159.00
_____ _____ hoodie, Lululemon, $80.00
_____ _____ pants, Lululemon, $80.00
(*specifics have been redacted to keep your prying eyes away from my much-coveted items)

In addition to this, I’ll need a couple pairs of dressier sandals (Steven Madden wedges?) as well as a minimum of two sundresses. Creating some cushion for a few random accessories and maybe a couple cute tops to go with my new favourite jeans, let’s say that’s an additional $300.00, all in.

SUMMERTIME GRAND TOTAL: $1,196.98

Sooo…does anyone have any super ideas that’ll put a cool $1,200 in my pocket and fast?

Updated - Where There’s Oil, There Will Be Blood

Being the huge fan of ‘No Country For Old Men’ that I am, I was thrilled to learn that it had won the Academy Award for Best Picture several weeks ago. However, after watching ‘There Will Be Blood’ last night, I am singing a different song. ‘Blood’ was completely robbed. Daniel Day-Lewis’s performance was so brilliant that it was often overwhelming just to watch him on screen. His presence is, very simply, satiating. Kudos to the Academy for awarding him the Best Actor trophy.

What I appreciated most about the film as a whole was its authenticity. Despite the quality production of any given period piece, one tends never to forget that they’re watching sets, costumes and props. Not so in this case. They might as well have transported cameras and recording equipment 100 years back in time and shot this film. The movie was just released on DVD yesterday (in eco-friendly packaging, I might add) so if you haven’t yet experienced Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest masterpiece, do so now.

Photo: Paramount Vantage Pictures on Hampton Roads

Being that it’s Duane’s birthday, I’ve been requested to make my much-sought-after guacamole. It’s to die for. Simply ask yourself “is there anything this girl can’t do?”

The answer is a resounding “no.”

The more ingredients you have, the better.

Organic is always the best way to go. And for some reason, organic avocados seem more ripe.

I love limes. I love tomatoes. Enough said.

Few know the secret key to my stellar guacamole recipe. I believe Chloe and Amy know, and I did tell Stephen today (but only because he likes lime as much as I do). And he’s super cute.

Slippery little suckers…believe me.

When I was a little girl, I used to wear my swimming goggles when chopping onion in hopes that I wouldn’t cry. It took me a long time to realize it was the inhalations that were causing my tears.

My recipe for guacamole ensure zero public displays of affection after consumption.

And that’s all, folks. It may not look pretty, but hot damn is it good.

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’m tired, still full of last night’s 10 p.m. McDonald’s and would rather be watching CSI than sitting at my desk. Monday has arrived, and in an effort to chase away those ayem blues, allow me to point you to areas of the web that may bring you some much-needed distraction.

It’s 3:35 p.m. and I can assume that the last lift rides are chugging back up the slopes of Mt. Washington before the entire mountain falls quiet. Once those large red buttons are pushed, everything will fall quiet; no more “beep beep beep” when someone has to stop the lift, no more churning of gears, no more blip of the pass-checking machines. Certainly there will be no more swish of skis and boards slicing through powder. Today is April 6, 2008 - the last day of the snow season. Soon enough, only the sound of falling snow will be heard as taillights wave goodbye as the last skiers and boarders head back down the parkway.

The 2007/2008 has been another stellar year for yours truly’s favourite Vancouver Island hill. Even though spring is well upon us, the snow report in my e-mail inbox this morning reported that the base was sitting at 424cm. That’s just shy of 14 feet, kids. It’s been a great season for myself as well, as I finally purchased my first board, accomplished new riding skills and created fantastic memories with friends. You can bet your bottom dollar that come November I’ll be counting down the days until opening day, and geared up and ready to go when those lifts come back to life. Until then, let’s re-live some memories in photographic form…

I think I like the idea of a girls’ snowboarding/condo weekend next season. That’s it for now, folks. Mt. Washington officially re-opens (snow melt pending) on June 30th for all you mountain bikers. Stay tuned to my blog for more information on the summer season as well as events to look forward to on the hill.