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Since the summer of 2004, I have lived in a 12th-floor apartment in Vancouver’s West End – a slice of home that lets in a lot of sunshine and warmth.

Though the apartment holds as much charm as it does memories, like most places, it’s not without its ghosts. The building itself has a high turn-over rate of partiers, poor management and far too many residents who enjoy playing Cher’s music at high volumes. The kitchen is as tiny as an office cubicle and the entire building is zoned “NO PETS!”

Last night I surfed the internet seeking apartments for rent in the West End that were decent, were of reasonable rent and allowed for pets. I came across this…

This afternoon on my lunch break, I went to have a look at the place. The square footage is roughly the same size as my current place, but there’s no balcony, no view and it’s on the second floor of a three-storey walk-up. The flat’s recently been gutted with new everything in the kitchen, which includes stainless steel appliances and a dishwasher. The bedroom nook is very Carrie-esque, and even though the bathroom isn’t the most desirable one I’ve ever seen, it is definitely a suite that can be lived in. And best of all: it allows pets! The price tag, however, is nearly $200 above what I pay now.

I am willing to get rid of cable TV, and the hydro is apparently a bit less than I pay now, but I can get a dog of my very own! Eek! The building is also a mere four blocks from my office, which hugely adds to the convenience factor. My problem is that I don’t know if I’m scared of an apartment that is very different from what I am so used to living in, or if I’m just scared of such a huge change after almost five years.

Any kind of input and insight from you, o’ my readers, would be most helpful!

My Christmas Spirit came late this year. For weeks, I had nothing decorated, nothing bought, nothing baked and nothing planned. Holy does time fly by quickly – and everything else changes just as fast! I feel like I’ve got a laundry list of planning, purchasing and preparation ahead of me in the coming weeks, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

Original Photo: tempest_kat on Flickr

On top of all things directly related to Christmas, there’s a pile of other fun stuff for this chica to (potentially) look forward to! See what I mean:

So tell me: what’s on your laundry list that you’re looking forward to?

Part of me feels sorry for her, but seeing Charley decorated in sparkles and bells also makes me laugh out loud. Here’s a little Christmas embarrassment cheer for your Wednesday evening…

…I think I’ll go outside a while, and just smile.”

Photo: Mount Washington Alpine Resort, snapped at 8:55 a.m.

One of the perks of working at a law firm is all the free stuff given to me at Christmastime from other firms, transcription companies, courier companies and the like. Today was the day the gifts started rolling in. Who am I to turn down such generosity?

The first gift was a pair of luxe (faux) fur-lined down booties from Restoration Hardware. Suffice to say I’ll be putting these toasty babies on my tootsies immediately following this evening’s hot bath.

Gift number two will come in handy after work on Thursday. Amy and Lindsay will be stopping by for some pre-drinks and prettying up prior to the Best of 604 awards reception. A little chardonnay will come in handy before our venture to the Cellar. (Psst…if you haven’t voted in the 15 categories yet, do it now.)

Okay, this was by no means free – far from it, in fact. But sometimes when life decides to shit all over you, buying something pretty makes everything seem okay for a little while. Best of 604 Awards? Prepare to meet the best of Diane von Furstenberg.

Photo: PopStar

This morning’s link fest is brought to you by Jenny Lewis. I am always sending photos and article links to Amy whenever I come across one of her various crush boys (Robert Downey Jr., Kiefer Sutherland or that vampire guy), so she was gracious enough to offer the same courtesy back to me. “You’re always sending me eye candy, just thought I’d return the favour.” I had to share the pic because Jenny looks ridiculously hot.

Okay, bye.

In July of 2001, one life would change a sleepy town on the West Coast of Vancouver Island forever.

Killer Whale L98 – more affectionately known around the globe as Luna – emerged from the ocean waters and unknowingly impacted a community, an island, a province and a country. The life Luna lived was an incredible one, and the ripple effect he had has been captured in a touching documentary entitled Saving Luna.

Photo: Byron Bay Film Festival/Mountainside Films

Knowing that I have a deep love and affinity for killer whales, Becky invited me to a private screening of the film at the Vancouver Aquarium. Naturally, I accepted in a heartbeat.

What started as a three-week journalism assignment about a curious orca calf for the husband and wife team of Suzanne Chisholm and Michael Parfit turned into a three-year adventure.

When Luna first showed up in the Gold River area of Nootka Sound, people were perplexed how such a young killer whale was surviving at his age – let alone thriving – all alone. But soon enough, local residents were keenly aware that Luna was reaching out…

Killer whales, by nature, are social creatures – very much like humans. And when Luna found himself surrounded by creatures who were unlike him, he seemingly made the choice to communicate and show affection. While some considered Luna to be a nuisance, countless others fell deeply in love with Nootka Sound’s newest resident.

It wasn’t long, however, before controversy began to stir at a fervent rate. Saving Luna tells the tale of a whale, of the Department of Fisheries and Ocean’s decision to attempt to relocate Luna back with his pod, a community’s battle to adopt the whale and the Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nations’ deep desire to protect a creature that was so affectingly respected and understood.

Despite years of ongoing efforts, on March 10, 2006 Luna collided with the propeller of a local tug boat. He did not survive.

More than two years after Luna’s death, to this day no one truly seems to know why Luna graced the world with his presence. His playful antics and seemingly magical effect have been greatly mourned. Saving Luna begs many questions of its viewers: should Luna have rejoined his pod? Should he have remained in Nootka Sound where he chose to make his home and communicate with human beings? And most importantly, what does Luna represent in consideration of the love, affection and attention we as mammals all have an innate need for?

The film was concluded with a panel discussion including the film’s producers/directors, Jamie James of the Mowachaht/Muchalaht band, a member of the DFO and esteemed staff of the Vancouver Aquarium. If you’d like to find out more about this very special documentary, visit Saving Luna‘s official website and view the trailer on YouTube.

P.S. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. By the time the credits rolled, there wasn’t a dry eye in the theatre.

One thing that became abundantly clear to me yesterday is that, as we get older, our birthdays are usually more important to the people around us than to the birthday girl or boy directly. My Facebook wall was covered with well wishes, a few friends dedicated entire blog posts to “my special day,” and a small group of my nearest and dearest gathered last night for Olympia pizza, South Park and fruity cheesecake.

When I was a child, my birthday was marked with cupcakes and balloons and brightly wrapped presents and pin the tail on the donkey. It was always a fun-filled day, and one that I always looked forward to.

Age doesn’t frighten me. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that I look forward to my 30s in hopes of shedding the anxieties that plague our lives as 20-somethings. But yesterday, as I turned 28, the day only seemed to serve as a reminder of all that I haven’t accomplished in my life. While I am not comparing my life, generally, to the lives of others, I am quick to realize that small goals I have (or had) are nowhere near to being accomplished. Time wasted is evident.

I know I’m not the only one. Most of us are keenly aware of what we consider to be our own shortcomings. One thing I do know, as I experience more in life and living, is that often the times in which I feel regression gives me the grounding I require to move into periods of growth and feelings of accomplishment. I try to take the good with the bad, the pretty with the ugly.

Fruit’s sweetness isn’t savoured without peeling.

Windows aren’t clear without cleaning.

Ballet isn’t performed without bloodied toes.

Soil isn’t fertile without turning over.

Gold isn’t refined without searing fire.

“The act of blogging by definition is conceited/narcissistic, so you may as well roll with it.” – Tony Pierce

I wasn’t going to go here, but Tony’s sage advice to me on this day was that it’s okay to write what I want to write and say what I want to say. Today is the day on which I was born so many years ago.

This is what I looked like:

I guess I was kinda cute.

While there won’t be any reflection in this post, I just want to thank all the amazing people in my life who’ve wished me wellness, love, happiness and joy on this day (and all days). I feel old enough to know better but too young to always make the best decisions.

Last night I sat down and talked with Tony. He interviewed me for my birthday and it was fun, so read it if you feel like it. I also got a few shout-outs on blogs from some very lovely people who had nothing but kind words to share, and you should know that your words meant a great deal to me this morning.

Much love to all of you.

If the day ever comes that I have my own children, I’d like to be able to stay home with them. In fact, I’d seriously reconsider the entire idea if staying home with my kids wasn’t a fairly solid possibility. As a little girl, I was entirely fortunate in that my mom didn’t return to work until I started elementary school. When I caused a disturbance at preschool and sat in the corner crying, mom was to the rescue right away.

Once I started elementary school, however, an after-hours babysitter became necessary. This is where the trouble began…

It sometimes amazes me at how irresponsible some people can be when in charge of children. This morning, Lindsay and I were exchanging babysitter horror stories, and it became clear to me that my brother and I weren’t the only ones with stories to tell.

Marnie was my favourite. She didn’t interact with us much, but she was really nice, and pretty with blonde hair and black leather tasseled jacket. I liked her best because our afterschool snack consisted of a spoonful of peanut butter dipped in chocolate chips. Delish!

L was one of my least favourites. She was in BC from the Prairies for a summer and locked my brother and I outside. We were only allowed inside to eat and pee. Interrupting Country Music Television was not okay. One time, I took my brother to the local playground and he didn’t quite make it back in time to use the washroom, so green leaves were required. It was messy. Very messy. L made me, being the 8-year-old, clean it all up.

The worst, by far, was C. One summer I was running barefoot in her backyard and stepped on a rusty nail in a board. With her considerable medical training, one would think she’d treat the injury adequately. Apparently “adequately” consisted of a bandaid and sending me back outside. Her son also had a regular morbid habit of reducing me to tears by telling me I’d die before he would and that he’d make fun of me after I was dead. Did I mention he was 6?

Okay, your turn…share your worst (or best) babysitting stories.