Keira-anne.com

I like rainy days. No wait, scratch that. I love rainy days. They lend to a particular sense of coziness that allows me to be lazy enough to stay indoors while invigorating enough to roll up my sleeves and get stuff done. I cleaned my entire apartment, cleared out hideous clothes I don’t wear anymore, junked old make-up from under the bathroom sink, bathed Jordy (who’s now fast asleep on the couch), baked cookies and prepped myself a margarita pizza from scratch.

As quaint as all that sounds, the other half of me is starting to feel restless for the coming days of endless sunshine… summer evenings in lush grass at the park, pitchers of crushed raspberry mojitos on the patio at Milestones (likely while practically living in this beauty through the sunny months), loading up on a bounty of fresh fruit and vegetables from the Coombs Market, sandy toes, sugary sweet ice cream dripping from hand-rolled sugar cones, wading in the ocean with my niece and my dog and a girls’ getaway week in New York City with Rebecca.

Instead of practically torturing myself with summer dreams, I decided to take a trip down memory lane in Flickrville and check out some of my favourite memories of Summer 2009.

Photo: John Bollwitt on Flickr

When my brother and I were children, my mom would sometimes bring home giant rolls of paper. I’d map out entire towns for my brother’s Hot Wheels cars. And when you were drawing rainbows and happy sunshine faces, I was taking pencil to ruler and sketching out floor plans. I’ve been fascinated with the layouts of homes for longer than I can remember. That said, you can imagine how excited I was to discover the basic blueprint for the infamous Skybreak House.

Located in The Warren, Radlett, Hertfordshire area of the UK and built between the years 1964-1966, it can be most easily recognized as HOME in A Clockwork Orange. Though the exteriors featured in the film are not that of the Skybreak House, this is one home that has me salivating at its interior design. If money weren’t a factor, I’d replicate it while simultaneously blowing up the square footage and maintaining the ratio.

My TV-watching hours are usually dominated by shows such as Property Virgins, Love It Or List It, House Poor or Take This House And Sell It. Room transformations are nothing short of addictive. Being that I’m hoping to upgrade to a larger and more permanent suite in a year’s time, the designs are becoming highly influential. Beyond gray paint and focal walls, I’m gathering some unique ideals. And if the Skybreak House wasn’t amazing enough already, it also features my latest obsession: barn doors.

Using chalkboard paint on a smaller wall surface charms, thrills and kills me.

Clearly a girl with kitchen savvy needs a workspace to reflect that. Given the choice, I will always choose stand-alone pieces over installed cabinetry because I prefer working in functional kitchen spaces. Some of my “I freakin’ wish” must-haves: butcher block island, industrial-sized porcelain basin, open concept storage and gas cooking.

I adore minimalist design in each and every room because it provides the perfect canvas for incorporating colours and pieces that inspire.

I’m kind of in love with platform beds but feel the pull into a torrid love affair with oversized headboards – particularly pseudo ones derived from art pieces or headboards of the upholstered variety. They make my heart go ga-gung.

Complimentary lamps and candles are not only essential but also add amazing beauty. Nothing, however, can top the perfection of natural light.

You will never, ever find the following in any home I ever live in: trinkets, shiny black appliances, anything made of oak, the colour yellow, enclosed entertainment units, paisley prints, bedding with a thread count below 400 or hutch units. Buffets, on the other hand, are not only acceptable but actually encouraged.

While I’m about 1,667 paychecks (and a lottery win) away from recreating the Skybreak House with some serious Keira-Anne styles, a girl’s gotta dream. After all, my body needs something to keep the adrenaline coursing between basketball games.

Photos top to bottom: Bloody Disgusting; Bloody Disgusting; inhislight07; Remodelista; Peach and Pearl; Brightest Young Things; Yossawat; Home Design | Decoration | Lighting; Wonderlane on Flickr; Author’s own; Author’s own; this_could_be_my_house on Flickr; Modern Luxury Homes; ExinteriorDesign; Apartment Therapy; Martha Stewart Living; me*jo on Flickr; Crate and Barrel; Crate and Barrel; Crate and Barrel; Crate and Barrel; Trendir

Photos (Top to Bottom): Hunter Boots; Wüsthof Knives; both dresses Diane von Furstenberg; KitchenAid; Urban Outfitters; Apple; Stuart Weitzman at Nordstrom; FashionBeans

Question No. 1: If you were to recommend a good camera to me, which would it be? The trip to New York that Rebecca and I are taking is coming up fast with a little over four months until departure. My Canon PowerShot SD1000 is getting old (and the lack of photo quality shows), so I want to upgrade before we leave. I don’t need anything terribly tricked-out and don’t want to spend more than $500. DSLR would be nice but it’s not a deal-breaker. I just want the ability to take crisp, colourful and focused photos. Awesome zoom would be a nice bonus.

Photo: CoffeeGeek on Flickr

Question No. 2: Who wants to shoot hoops with me? While this question is mostly directed at those of you that I actually know rather than randomly, I’m open to the possibility of pick-up games if enough people are interested. I recently bought myself an outdoor ball and want to hit the courts under the Cambie Street Bridge once these monsoons leave Vancouver. I’ve been playing since junior high, will dribble dizzying circles around you and make you sweat for the ball, but I promise it’ll be fun. Who’s in?

Photo: chillihead on Flickr

Living today – in the moment – has become my “thing” lately. I could elaborate but let’s not get boring, shall we? Anyway, if I don’t live in the moment, all the things I’m pumped about next year will be here before I know it and the little things will pass me by. In fact, so much is coming my way in 2010 that I’m already exhausted thinking about it all. Oy vey.

In no particular order…

10. No specific target date has been set, but I will be officially debt-free. Feel free to hate on me, but I’ve worked hard at it.

9. Celebrating my sweet-as-a-peach niece’s first birthday.

8. Shortly after that, celebrating one whole year with my love bug.

7. Fingers crossed that the Phoenix Suns will once again rock GM Place with another exhibition game during the pre-season, a game at which I will be screaming, yelling, cheering and jumping up and down in my jersey.

Photo: taminator on Flickr

6. TORONTO! Or, you know, a suburb-thereof. I really need to see this lady again. (Except let’s not hang with those guys, okay?)

5. Seeing John Mayer in concert on April 1 for the second time. (Don’t be surprised if I disappear for a few months after the show. It’s my hope that I’ll charm my way backstage, after which he and I will embark on a passionate and heartbreaking love affair. I suspect we will exhaust each other by summertime.)

Photo: Flickred! on Flickr

4. Love thy self: I’m one of those people who incessantly say “I want to…” and then never actually do it. I want to cook more gourmet food, drink more wine, have more parties, take more day-trips, rent a car sometimes and do anything and everything that makes me happy.

3. My first visit to New York City. I plan on leaving my heart there.

Photo: miss604 on Flickr

2. Get sporty. I don’t miss going to the gym but getting active makes my heart go ga-goong in more ways than one. I want to join a co-ed drop-in basketball league or just hit the courts with friends. Bueller?

Original Photo: Fernando Ariotti on Flickr

1. Embarking on the next decade of my life, a trip that someone special to me will also be taking this year.

Your turn: tell me what would make for your “Perfect ‘10″. Feel free to make this a meme.

I bet if I took an afternoon to dig through the garage or storage room at my mom’s house, I’d probably turn up some buried treasures from across Vancouver Island that my Opa collected years ago. It’s something I’ll probably never actually get around to, but thankfully Raymi did some of it for me. Who knew Vancouver Island was so big in Ontario?

She recently snapped these photos of a very, very old pamphlet belonging to Dave that was published by the Victoria and Island Publicity Bureau. As far as I know, that entity operated out of the south Island between the 1920s and the 1960s, so that will give you an idea of just how old this is. Someone correct me if I’m wrong on those dates.

If you click this last photo to view the original size, you can clearly see that the highway connecting the eastern Island to Tofino and Ucluelet was non-existent at the time of publication.

I suddenly have the urge to hike at Mt. Beecher.

Aside from the brief afternoon snowfall, Sunday was like any other Sunday. At least it should have been. In an effort to finalize our Christmas shopping, Andrea and I planned to meet at H&M in Pacific Centre before making the somewhat insane trek to Metrotown. In order to avoid the cold, I ducked into Sears and made my way through the mall to find her.

Photo: ***roham*** on Flickr

As I emerged from the department store into the lower level, making my way to the escalator, I was keenly aware of how many people were crowded everywhere I looked. As I scanned the countless faces, one in particular nearly stopped me in my tracks. I knew him, I knew his face and how he moved. I’d seen the reconnaissance footage nearly a dozen times; in doing so I studied more about him than he knew of himself when looking in the mirror. I knew he was wanted, I knew how incredibly elusive he was and I knew the tremendous threat of sheer terror he posed to everyone in his immediate radius.

I had two choices. I could use the near-microscopic radio in what appears to be my DKNY watch to call for immediate help and report the sighting or I could disable him myself. If I went for the second option, I had to be absolutely certain I could do it. Any room for error was non-existent with this many people around.

Being nearly 100 feet behind him, I quickened my step. Anything less than 50 feet was far too risky. I closed in, my heels hitting the faux marble floor to muffle the sound of the safety release inside my jacket. Were anyone to see the Glock 27 before I was ready to fire, any chance I had would evaporate.

40 feet. Now or never.

In one fluid movement, my handgun went from my inside pocket to being gripped between both hands. In less than a blink, it fired. The Christmas shoppers screamed in chorus. Some scattered while most dropped to the ground. The breath I’d been holding escaped my lips as I surveyed my work. The man who was not a suspect – but instead a legitimate target – was sprawled face-down on the floor. One direct hit and his entire body was disabled.

I live in a fantasy world. It’s a world I’ve danced in for most of my life, a world in which I’m a federal agent. Sometimes it’s CIA, sometimes it’s FBI and sometimes I’m even an assassin. A secret life of lies, precise expertise and incredible adventure.

In truth, as I walked through Pacific Centre on Sunday afternoon, this was exactly the scenario that played on the reel of my mind. As I walked to meet Andrea, I questioned myself as to whether or not I thought I could get a clear shot off in such a crowded mall if I had to. It immediately occurred to me that if i had any hope in hell of joining the CIA, I’d first need corrective laser eye surgery.

Photos (top to bottom): Tiffany & Co.; Home Decorating Ideas/Interior Decoration/Kitchen Remodeling; Personal; MagXone Lyrics – “Assassin” by John Mayer; lonesome:cycler on Flickr; SoFeminine; Billie Hara on Flickr; Personal; ****Gretchen (FaustoyGretchen)**** on Flickr; Gucci by Robin Broadbent Photography; The Second Lunch; waferboard on Flickr

In recent weeks, I, like many other people around Vancouver, find myself in a painfully consistent routine each morning. It begins by hitting the snooze button on my alarm clock more than a handful of times – at minimum. Failing that, I spend my first waking moments considering any plausible excuse to stay in bed that particular morning. Once reality kicks in, I know that the sensation of being rain-slicked while my boots become a decoupage of wet leaves is a looming inevitability. This is made even worse being that I have a dog who is desperate to pee the moment he bounds out of bed and before I leave for the office.

Despite umbrellas and hoods, my hair also falls victim to the season. I ask myself each day why I bother blow-drying, but it’s something I always do anyways. It’s the routine. After the eating of breakfast and the shower and the make-up and the blow-drying and the careful choosing of matching unmentionables comes the dreaded wardrobe selection. I must attire myself appropriately for the office but what I wear must also be functional enough to be tucked into galoshes and under a raincoat. Almost none of my office apparel fits the bill in this (or any) regard, so I normally leave my apartment a complete disarray of sunshine.

As I engaged in this daily dance with myself earlier this morning, it took almost no time to suddenly realize that this time three weeks from now, I’ll instead be waking up to this…

Original Photo: Sarah Sosiak on Flickr

The only decision that then needs to be made is red bikini, blue bikini or new bikini? You decide.

As an aside, I apologize for the lack of blog posts. I really have no valid excuse that would appease you. Feel free to stalk me on Twitter in the meantime.

Author’s Foreword: This post is lovingly dedicated to my dear friend Andrea, a woman who shares many of my compulsions. Language is only one of them. Reading thesauruses may be another.

While earlier pondering this blog post, I was formulating what I thought would be the perfect opening anecdote. Upon further consideration, I realized that whether it related to my topic or not was moot, so I’ve decided to drop it altogether and cut to the chase.

“What’s the deal with language these days?”

When ICQ made its first appearance in 1996, chat speak was born. Words and phrases became abbreviated and emotions were instead expressed through cleverly strung together punctuation marks. Further still, punctuation itself was completely thrown out the window. It’s a slippery slope, my friends, and since then we’ve been inundated by way of MSN, AOL, text messaging, MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, e-mail, e-cards, blogs, webcams and smart phones.

While technology has certainly made the world a smaller place and brought people closer together (though that is still open to debate), it has also turned us into incredibly disgusting and ridiculously languid communicators.

Photo: MrPhilDog on Flickr

It can be assumed that the majority of Canadians have been taught, generally speaking, a basic education in the public school system. Many more of us have been fortunate enough to attend post-secondary institutions. The expectation concerning our quality of work only increases as we pursue higher levels of schooling. Words – both written and spoken – are arguably the strongest method of communication no matter which language one speaks.

Have I missed something along the way? I was by no means the most scholastic student in any given class. I made efforts when warranted, pulled off a consistent ‘B’ average throughout most of academia and never gave one subject more attention over another. Yet somehow I’ve still managed to walk away with an understanding of spelling, grammar and punctuation.

An alarming rate of educated adults still mix up contractions with possessive words. “A lot” has always been, and will always be, two separate words. When joining two thoughts with “and,” why use a comma? The “and” in the middle is the conjoiner. Run-on sentences are never acceptable and the only exception to this rule is if your name is Ernest Hemingway or Raymi. Though, even those two know what’s what.

The truth is that this unfortunate phenomenon is not restricted to chat windows and Facebook walls. Glaring blunders are popping up in grocery store fliers, newspapers, magazines, work-related correspondence and on billboards. I can’t help but wonder if our educations have failed us or if we simply no longer care. It’s time for the lost art of language to make a triumphant return.