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After my last run of an exhausting (yet exhilarating and fantastic) day of snowboarding on Mt. Washington over the Easter weekend in March, I knew that I’d be zipping my snowboard up in its case and leaving it there until opening weekend in December, 2008. For most people who love the slopes in winter, that idea is a bit depressing. Some pick up on other hobbies to keep them occupied through the summer months, such as surfing or wakeboarding. And there are others still who know that there doesn’t have to be a dozen feet of fresh powder on the hill to have a blast at Mt. Washington.

As I quickly learned on a solo trip up the mountain last summer, I believe it’s quite possible that Mt. Washington offers more activity choices when the hot sun is shining down than when snowflakes are falling. The big draw is targeted at mountain bike enthusiasts, who take advantage of the open lifts and rugged terrain. One of Mt. Washington’s biggest events of the summer is happening August 23, 2008: the Bearclaw Invitational Slopestyle III. I checked it out last summer and was blown away by the scale of the event and also the excitement…not to mention the dozens and dozens of sweaty, dirty men. Here’s hoping my usual partner-in-crime tags along this year.

(For more information on mountain biking and related events at Mt. Washington, including seasons lift passes, visit their “Down and Dirty” site here.)

Fortunately for the rest of us who prefer not to get down and dirty, Mt. Washington offers a mitten full of other activities, ranging from riding the lifts to take in astonishing views, hiking, camping, bungee trampoline, mini golf and disc golf. In addition, all of the mountain’s shopping and dining facilities are open, so if the craving for Fat Teddy’s yam fries strikes you in the middle of July, so be it! Mt. Washington also appeals to the “plant geek” in all of us, with tons of information identifying the various flora and fauna that grows abundantly on its hills.

With activities set to kick off on June 20 (that’s only three weeks away, folks) and mountain biking gearing up for a June 30 opening, lets hope the last remnants of our wicked 07/08 snowfall melt soon!

If you’re planning on heading up this summer for a day of adventure high above the Comox Valley, my recommendation is that you snag yourself an Alpine Action Pack ($21 for adults; additional pricing found here), which gives you an entire day of unlimited access to the scenic chairlift rides, bungee trampoline, mini golf and disc golf. However, in this girl’s opinion, it’s worth it to just hang out on the hill for the day and take in the summer culture up there - with or without riding to the top.

Visit Mount Washington Alpine Resort online for all the information you need to make your summertime trip to the Comox Valley a memorable one.

Would you believe me if I told you that by the time last night arrived, I wasn’t really all that excited to see Sex and the City on the silver screen? Maybe I’d hyped it up too much over the last several months, or maybe it was a subconscious way of not allowing me to feel disappointed if the film fell short of what I had hoped it’d be. Either way, once the curtains lifted and the screen glittered in shades of blue and pink, my apathy had been dispelled.

Photo: miss604 on Flickr

Watching Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte together again brought on a huge surge of relief. Each of the four actresses (Sarah Jessica Parker, Kim Cattrall, Cynthia Nixon and Kristin Davis, respectively) slipped back into the roles they made famous as comfortably as a favourite pair of Manolos. And don’t be fooled into thinking that you’re going to see a really, really, ridiculously long episode of the HBO hit; the film plays like the movie that it is (especially considering that it clocks in at just over 2 hours and 20 minutes). Much to this girl’s delight, the fab foursome are joined in their big screen venture by the men in their lives: Mr. Big (Chris Noth), Harry Goldenblatt (Evan Handler), Steve Brady (David Eigenberg) and Smith Jerrod (Jason Lewis).

Despite expectations, predictions, leaked storylines, possibilities and probabilities (not to mention the countless images we’ve seen of the girls’ costume changes over the last few months), Sex still delivers surprises, tears and more laughter than you ever experienced in your living room. The truth is, I’m dying to discuss the details, but I have to be fair. That being said, I am giving you, my readers, until the end of the weekend to see the film for yourselves. After that, all bets are off and anything from the film is fair game for discussion on my blog.

Click here to visit the film’s official website.

When I was a child, my family camped. We camped every single summer on Hornby Island at Tribune Bay Campground. Our first summer, we were completely unprepared, and on our first night the rain clouds opened up and poured on everyone. Needless to say, the local CO-OP store’s tarp section was raided at first light.

I believe this picture was snapped somewhere in the vicinity of 1988.

(Please note the following: bright orange mountain bike, turquoise blue shoes with neon green laces, baby pink socks, orange and black shorts, NKOTB t-shirt, denim jacket and backwards cap. Did I really need to tell you this was in the 80s? I suppose so, being that if I hadn’t, you would’ve guessed me as the fourth member of Hanson).

Okay, so that was a bit of tangent, being that the point of this post is camping. While I haven’t camped on Hornby Island since the summer of 1999, and haven’t camped at all since the summer of 2001, I am more than ecstatic that I’ll be camping in Tofino in less weeks than I have fingers.

The last time I was in Tofino was nearly two years ago. I went there for only a day with someone who meant - and still means - a great deal to me. Every single time I visit that place, I experience a euphoria that I find nowhere else. Ever since the first time my toes dug into the sand at Long Beach, I’ve felt a disconnect with the rest of the world when I’m on the true west coast. It’s as if Tofino is the only place on Earth that actually exists.

I hesitate to even talk about Tofino and it’s undeniable beauty because, in truth, it bothers me when a posse of city yuppies roll into the Pacific Rim in their SUVs and party like it’s 1999. Like Hornby Island, Tofino is a special and sacred place - not a party or tourist destination. I suppose that it’s something I feel because I’m a true Islander and, thus, protective of my Island.

Again, I deviate…

A few months back, Jen had mentioned going to Tofino to attend a surf camp (I am in major need of a brush up on my so-called surfing skills). Fast forward to what I’ve been feeling lately, and a trip to Tofino has become inevitable. She booked us into the last available campground, located snugly between the airport and the landfill, which is only a short walk from my beloved Schooner Cove. The idea of waking so close to the waves I love, stretching into my yoga practice at sunrise on the sand and spending a sun-filled afternoon in the waves is more than I can fathom. In fact, the truth is, I can’t even yet believe that I will be going.

So last night I made my list and checked it twice. Sooner than I can imagine, we’ll be loading up my mom’s car (she is generous enough to lend it to us for two days - she just doesn’t know it yet. Thanks, Mom!) and heading west. I think I’ll leave my turquoise-with-lime-green-laces kicks at home this time.

Yes, my faithful readers, the week has arrived - the week. Sex and the City: The Movie hits screens on Friday and I think it goes without saying that there are countless women everywhere sitting on pins and needles. I have no clue what will happen or won’t happen, but let me be the first to say that…I hope Carrie doesn’t marry Big. As much as I love the two of them together, I have my reasons; I’ll explain in my re-cap post once I’ve laid eyes on the silver screen.

However, in a fun attempt to get those of you who are looking forward to the flick even more excited, here are some snapshots of one lovely lady my mom had the pleasure of attending high school alongside. No word of a lie.

All Photos: Private Collection

It’s 5:48pm, and I am sitting in an apartment that’s too warm, with fans that are too breezy and a puppy that’s the right amount of cuddly on my lap. Another puppy alternates between staring intensely out the window at passerby and thrashing his stuffed soccer ball. You’d think that I wouldn’t have many cares in the world, but at this moment, I wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining to you all how I feel. Because, the truth is, I don’t even know what I’m thinking. While many of you may have developed a sunburn over the last few days, my brain’s caught ADD - or so it feels.

Sitting at my desk on Friday, I knew that something was amiss. The only way I could describe what I was feeling was that my soul drains were clogged. Anticipating a renewing experience the next morning at my Hidden Language yoga class with a handful of awesome ladies (my mom included), I pushed the feeling away, knowing I’d soon find a cure for the clog while bending and writing.

Photo: justthisguyyouknow on Flickr

The next morning, as I twisted my spine and gaze gently at my stretched out left palm, my eyes met the small, box-shaped window that ran across the top of the heritage space. Between my eyes and the blue sky were the roof ledge of the building next door and the top spirals of some sort of tower. I thought to myself “this isn’t right…after an experience like this, I should be able to walk out into an environment that reflects what I’m feeling in here.”

I wanted to leave my gem of a yoga studio and be surrounded by lush trees, warm sun, water, earth and the sounds of birds flying in the distance. Instead I was met with sirens, exhaust, buses, concrete, vehicles, rancid food smells and a whole other bouquet of unsavouriness. And as we ladies walked to brunch after class, I suddenly remembered something a old friend of mine once told me as we sat on my balcony at 2am one night: he said “You know, it’s really strange that you live 12 storeys off the ground. It isn’t natural to live up so high.” I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was right. And so the next day I walked to my 11th-floor office and he caught an early ferry back to Vancouver Island. That right there says so much.

Photo: justthisguyyouknow on Flickr

This afternoon, as I navigated my way through the steel chaos, first to Stanley Park and then to drop my mom off (ironically so she, too, could catch a ferry to Vancouver Island), I found myself amazed that I hadn’t ripped my hair out. Every other word falling out of my mouth was enough to make a sailor blush. How I’ve managed to live in downtown Vancouver for as many years as I have is somewhat astonishing. Only within recent months have I realized how un-me it is; how unnatural it is. And yet, I feel so stuck in neutral without the possibility of change. Only weeks ago I felt so close and so on the precipice of that kind of change, but my hopes came shattering around me that Sunday morning on the bathroom floor.

What I seem so often to forget is that so many others are walking around in the same state that I am in. We all desire change, something new in our lives, we all dread going to work on Monday mornings, we all dread bill-paying time each month and can’t figure out how to jump off the gerbil wheel. Maybe we’re too scared that we’ll bump our own asses as we make the leap, or maybe we’re all just too scared to find out what is - or isn’t - off the wheel.

Is it up to the universe to make our choices for us and come what may via fate? Or are we expected to make decisions and have a little bit of faith that they’re the right decisions? If anything, I’m writing this as a means to exorcising my cognitive demons. Sometimes this is the best way to untangle the ball of Christmas lights…or at least start chipping away at it.

…AND THE FEELING’S RIGHT

Yesterday was Friday, and it was a Friday that four women had been particularly looking forward to. It was Ladies’ Night, and Rebecca and I were headed for Boneta in Gastown with our respective moms. It was an awesome time for the mother-daughter teams, rich in memories of cocktails, silly photo-taking lessons, tasty meals, tenderly sweet desserts, laughter and, of course, lots of pictures!

In mere moments, we’re headed to Radha in Chinatown for some early morning Hidden Language yoga, followed by a scrumptious Gastown brunch and an afternoon chasing after screaming 6-year-olds hopped up on sugar at Lilah’s 6th birthday party. Can anyone say “Gong Show?” More pictures to come, quite obviously…

Apparently I rock Darren’s world. At least he said so because I promised him I’d blog about something that’s really important to him (and for good reason).

“The Bavubuka Foundation is a nonprofit organization that believes that connecting youth with music and the arts can transform lives and unify diverse communities. Bavubuka is dedicated to creating spaces and educational programs that will nurture and empower a new generation of young leaders in Uganda and all of Africa, who will use their voices to communicate positive messages and create positive change in their communities and the world.”

Next week, you all have the opportunity to be a part of a very unique event, celebrating an important project created to support youth on the other side of the globe who, normally, would fall through the gaping cracks of society.

Silas Balabyekkubo, founder of the Bavubuka Foundation, is screening his revolutionary film, Diamonds In The Rough, at the Tom Lee Music Hall in Vancouver. The film itself is narrated by Michael Franti of Spearhead. Following the screening, Silas will be engaging the audience with a Q&A session and wrapping the night up with an in-store performance. According to Darren, this is a very cool and rare opportunity to meet the man behind the hip hop tool of Bavubuka.

(For more information on the Bavubuka Foundation, click here to visit their website.)

The info you need for the screening is as follows:

What: Diamonds In The Rough

When: Thursday, May 29, 2008 (Doors at 7pm, Screening/Q&A from 7:30pm - 9pm, Performance 9:15pm - 10pm)

Where: Tom Lee Music Hall, 929 Granville Street, Vancouver, British Columbia

How Much: Ticket are $15 (and almost sold out). Contact Kevin at (778) 847-6877 or info@beautifulstruggle.ca to get your hands on some.

When I was very young, I liked to write letters. I also liked to write short stories, notes, cards and especially took joy in jotting down my thoughts and feelings in my diary. I still remember what it looked like too: it had a cheap brass lock with a photo of Johnny Depp on the cover, clad in ripped jeans with the ‘21 Jumpstreet’ logo splashed on the brick wall behind him.

As I got older, and finally hit my teenage years, everyone started getting online with the World Wide Web. Everyone I knew was staking their claim at Hotmail with a clever e-mail address, and a few more found their online chat identity at ICQ (if you have to ask what that is, you’re too young to remember). At the time, blogs and online journaling seemed like a hugely “out there” idea, and only a select few moved from the concept of pen and paper to fingers and keyboard.

Photo: stevegarfield on Flickr

In fact, it wasn’t until many years later and I was in my early 20s that I, too, started to blog. This was in addition to the many so-called wonderful ways in which the internet allowed us to stay connected with those we know and reach out to new friends. Geocities, Friendster, Yahoo! Chat, MySpace, Classmates, Blogger, MSN Messenger, Facebook, WAYN - need I go on?

For most of our lives we got on just fine with paper stationary and telephones, so why now are we so heavily dependent on the internet?

With quite literally each passing day, I am starting to see the internet as more of a curse than a blessing. The very thing that makes getting in touch online so simple is also the same thing that exacerbates one of the biggest problems in human relations.

This topic has been cycling through my social circle a great deal as of late.

The online realm, in all its brilliance and downfalls, allows each person who logs on to appear, say, see and be all the things they choose to represent. Our names, e-mail addresses, location, appearance, ethnicity, sex and opinions can all be 100% fabricated. For every person who chooses to use this medium to contact with and express themselves to others in a manner that is entirely genuine, there is someone who exploits the anonymity of the internet to, essentially, act shitty and take zero responsibility for it.

Cyberspace requires absolutely no accountability.

So how can you weed out the gold from the ghastly? In truth, you can’t. Sometimes you just have to take the good with the bad; the pretty with the ugly. I suppose it’s true of all things in life and in relationships with others. As a friend recently wrote, maybe the best thing to do is surround your real life with those who are simply “kind hearted and supportive.” They’re the people who keep you grounded in a twisted world…whichever world that may be.

I have one simple question for you all:

Where have all the gentlemen disappeared to?

I hate to generalize on such a large scale, but I’ve recently become rather appalled (and almost insulted) at the lack of manners in men I encounter on a daily basis in the downtown core. There seems to be a large and gaping hole where courtesies, open doors and a “ladies first” policy once dwelled.

Photo: iandavid on Flickr

I’ve long been a champion of traditionalism in its various forms - though not to be confused with blatant sexism. Oddly enough, I find it to be a topic I keep returning to, incarnated somewhat differently each time. That is, however, besides my point.

Sure, I am capable of opening the door to my office building, but sometimes it would be nice if the man who enters it before me could, at the very least, hold it open for yours truly also.

And while we all ride the elevator and get to the ground floor at the same time, it would be nice if the random men I ride it with would offer me the option of walking out first (particularly if they get on after I do). Oddly enough, the only men who do seem to remember these common, basic courtesies are the 60+ crowd.

As I said, it’s wrong of me to pidgeonhole 21st-century men in such a way. To prove me wrong, I challenge my more chivalrous male readers to tell me who they are and take a stand against those who…aren’t.

The fabulous West Coast has been blessed with amazing sunshine over the last three days, and I couldn’t be more in love with it. I don’t think I’ve worn anything with sleeves since Friday morning on my way to work. Island times have been very good (which goes without saying when I’m with my family and Charley). Yesterday I spent the majority of my time with my aunt and managed to pick up a few things I needed - like a fully stocked first aid kit!

This morning I woke to find the sun pouring directly onto my face through the window, which was much appreciated being that I had plans to visit Kitty Coleman’s Woodland Gardens today for their annual Art & Bloom festival.

Of course I had to bring my little Wiggle Bum with me for the adventure. The sights, sounds, smells and herds of other dogs proved to be a bit overwhelming for her, but I know she had a lot of fun.

I’ve long wished to be a collector of pottery, but for some reason, was always deterred by sticker shock. However, today I found this really beautiful piece to kick off my collection, crafted by a Qualicum Beach-area potter by the name of Darrel Hancock. His claywork is exactly the kind I want to accumulate: simple designs, smooth lines and finishes in the blue and sand colours of the beach. Another plus - his pieces are totally affordable.

After some downtime, my mom and I met up with my aunt at The Timber Room, one of the two dining rooms at Crown Isle Resort and Golf Community.

The view was to die for, the warm air was scrumptious on my skin, my cold water shrimp and coconut curry Kohoku rice bowl tasted oh-so-good (and was wonderfully paired with my first glass of chardonnay of the summer season) and the desserts speak for themselves.

The service, on the other hand, left something to be desired.

I’ll let you decide what’s richer: the strawberry-doused New York cheesecake or the gold fire hydrants.

It’s up and at ‘em early tomorrow for your humble narrator. Vancouver is awaiting my return, as are two wonderful puppies. My mom will be joining me for a few days in the city this week, so though my posting will probably be less consistent, expect a log jam of photos from yours truly.