

Photos (Top to Bottom): Hunter Boots; Wüsthof Knives; both dresses Diane von Furstenberg; KitchenAid; Urban Outfitters; Apple; Stuart Weitzman at Nordstrom; FashionBeans
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.
Someone at Nordstrom must have been sleeping on the job. For reasons I can’t explain, this dress ended up at Nordstrom Last Chance with a $49.95 price tag on it. It was the only one, it was in my size, there was not a stain, not a rip and not a silk thread out of place. Pure coincidence, and clearly I planned my trip to Scottsdale at the right time.
It was only in recent years that I learned how crucial the right pair of shoes are to completing an outfit. Tonight after work, I completed the dress by picking up these “kicks” at Holt Renfrew’s seasonal sale. The original price tag said $188 but the register rung them up for $109. It’s think it might be love.
Growing up on BC’s coast, I’ve always said that I adored living somewhere that the residents experienced four distinct seasons. It wasn’t until visiting the Phoenix suburb of Scottsdale last week that I realized I really just tolerate the four seasons because it’s what I’m accustomed to. Once you realize that living without rain is an option, downpours are much more loathsome.

Photo: mikemac29 on Flickr
As I flew into Sky Harbor International Airport around dinnertime, I was instantly blown away by the sprawling size of Phoenix. Twinkling city lights stretched further than I could see through my sliver-sized window. Upon arrival, my host-with-the-most wasted no time in acclimatizing me to Phoenix nightlife. After a tasty little dinner at Hanny’s, a restored men’s department store, we walked a few steps to the US Airways Center to witness the Phoenix Suns completely slaughter the New Orleans Hornets.

Photo: jasontho on Flickr
To say I was instantly hooked would be an understatement. Between sitting fourth-row, center court and the hip hop music thumping while the teams were playing, the game had a genuine schoolyard feel to it. Steve Nash has quickly become a legendary name, but it’s only when you see him on the court that you understand why.
Being that it was Veterans’ Day in the U.S., a first-quarter patriotic display instilled swelling pride within the entire crowd. And sadly, it was the only time I took a picture during my entire trip.

Photo: Frank Kehren on Flickr
On the following day we found ourselves getting through a lazy morning with a trip to Nordstrom’s Last Chance outlet – one of only two in the U.S. I managed to score a current season DvF silk party frock for 85% off and a Marc Jacobs handbag for 90% off retail; he snagged some Diesel jeans down from $350 to $30. No word of a lie.
Shopping is exhausting work, so after a quick late lunch stop at The Vig (and believe me, the VigAzz burger lives up to its name), the rest of the day was a write-off. After seeing a bit of Scottsdale by bike, I was toast.

Photo: Daniel Greene on Flickr
It’s kind of impossible to visit the City of Scottsdale without partaking in their shopping – it’s practically a sport to some of their residents. Scottsdale Fashion Square is certainly the pièce de résistance as it stands towering over the canal-woven Scottsdale Waterfront. With in-mall shops like Barneys New York, Louis Vuitton and Burberry mixed in with Anthropologie, Forever 21, Sephora and J. Crew, it redefines the term “a shopper’s paradise.”
As we made our way through Old Town Scottsdale, we noticed crews setting up for that evening’s The Big Pour, a street festival of (mostly) local breweries. After heading home to engage in an entirely sweaty and intense game of basketball for two, we were ready to shell out $10 and purchased our passports to debauchery. By the time I’d indulged in more than my fair share of 4 oz. samplers, we decided to kick it up a notch by making our way to a hopelessly chic cocktail bar, AZ88, where the whiskey flows like milk and honey.
While dramatic art installations – like the Dead New York City Taxi Driver exhibit below – can largely be argued as the bar’s claim to fame, I must put in a vote for their vicious Sidecar martini. A healthy splash of Cointreau was enough to finish me off. The rest of the night was a blur, including a trip to the Mondrian. It may – or may not – have involved a burlesque swing, too often nearly falling down and puking onto Hayden Road from inside the hired car. (Damn you, Sidecar!)

Photo: cam.riley on Flickr
It should come as no surprise to any of you that Saturday was black-marked by a hangover, so after spending half my day in bed, I finally had it in me to get up and out into the sunshine. Like Greater Vancouver, Phoenix is comprised of neatly parceled suburbs.

Photo: Conekt on Flickr
After grabbing mondo-sized iced Americanos (note that it’s pronounced “Ameri-con-o” down there), we made our way to the southeastern neighbourhood of Tempe – home to Arizona State University. It’s entirely picturesque, featuring a gorgeous waterfront walk around Tempe Town Lake, stunning sunset views and fresh air. For dinner, the Vancouver girl that went all the way to Arizona had sushi. Though, I wasn’t complaining – it was surprisingly fresh and delicious. We capped the night off with a flick at Harkins Camelview, catching a showing of The Damned United. Cute British football movie but it never engaged me. Take it or leave it.

Photo: phxpma on Flickr
By the time Sunday arrived, I had a hard time believing I had to leave already. Normally whenever I’m away from home – even if only to Tofino or Seattle – I feel entirely unsettled and can’t relax, but my time in Scottsdale was amazing. Thankfully we had a bit of time (though not enough if it were up to me) before my flight for a short jaunt half-way up Papago Peak. The views were breathtaking and I can’t begin to convey the sense of absolute peace I felt sitting on those red rocks. My boots are still covered in dust from that desert and I hesitate to wipe them clean.
While some – mostly my mother – are disappointed that I neglected to take any photos, my reasoning was simple: why lose time clicking shots to capture memories when you can experience them? I wasn’t there to play the role of the tourist; I was there to just be there. My time spent there was entirely precious, rejuvenating and incredible to me, and it should come as no surprise that I can’t wait to return.
When Peter Griffin’s welfare cheque on Family Guy was accidentally written out for $150,000 instead of $150, he built a moat around his home and rented the Statue of David. The kids of The OC spent cash like it was going out of style and were seemingly in constant competition with each other. Al Bundy dressed the part of a man made of money when his bank account temporarily swelled on Married… With Children.
So what’s the deal with our compulsion to spend-spend-spend instead of save-save-save?

Photo: Loadtr
A few months ago I wandered into Chapters looking for a book for women on financial management. I was starting from the ground up, so I knew that a little bit of leadership in my budgeting goals would be necessary. It’s easy to say “I’m going to stop spending money and start saving it,” but we all know that actions speak louder than words. One thing the book emphasizes is that understanding why we spend is the key to learning how to stop.
The last man in my life that I was constantly trying to impress – whether subconsciously or not – had incredibly particular tastes and expectations. Though unspoken, it was implied that my hair always needed to look somewhat luxurious, my nails needed to sport a specific type of manicure, my clothing needed to be as stylish as the labels in the seams, a tan was preferable and I wouldn’t dare go to bed at night without my legs shaved. Ghosts are tough to compete with.
Feelings of inadequacy or insecurity can reveal themselves in countless ways, but in women they generally rear their ugly heads in the form of spending. Whether we’re trying to impress a man, stay neck-at-neck with our girlfriends or keep up with the Joneses, the results are the same. “Retail therapy” provides a quick fix, but the high often crashes as soon as it starts. And sadly, until we can identify our personal reasons, any changes we attempt in an effort to better our financial situation will come back like a boomerang and knock us upside the head. This applies to women and men, and can concern alcohol abuse, unhealthy relationships, drug use or sexual habits.
While only a week into my strict and self-imposed budget, I have quickly realized how much I actually enjoy this new lifestyle. It’s become apparent to me how much I craved a structure I simply didn’t have. While I initially assumed living within a tight budget would cause me great stress, I’m surprised to learn how stress-free it has instead made my life.
Reaching a place of understanding, self-acceptance and personal peace in my life has given me an incredible freedom that’s causing a ripple effect. Does this mean I won’t still purchase so-called finer items? Certainly not. But if and when I do, the only person I’ll be purchasing them for is myself.
In case you haven’t heard, it’s hot in British Columbia. It’s not just those warm, late-spring days we’re experiencing either. It’s humid, sticky, sweaty, still-air hot!
Last weekend I hauled my summer clothes out of storage and discovered shorts, a skirt or two and some pretty little sun tops. What became apparent to me is my severe lack of breezy, flowy summer dresses. I’m particularly fond of maxi dresses (and especially the one Carrie Bradshaw donned as she downed margaritas in Mexico). This weekend’s mission: grab a Slurpee before finding and purchasing the perfect summer dress. A new pair of sunglasses and sandals wouldn’t hurt either…
With the summer months headed our way at warp speed, it should go without saying that we humans aren’t he only ones who suffer in the heat. Can you imagine enduring this heat all the while also wearing a fur coat? Though don’t even get me started on the idiocy of fur coats…
Yesterday a Saanich woman was outed to animal control by a passer-by after having left her small dog locked in her vehicle. The entire episode was caught by an A-Channel news camera. Upon returning to her car, the lady wildly waved a water bottle at the crew and said “see, I do have water here.”
To this, the animal control officer replied, “Ma’am, dogs don’t know how to open and drink from water bottles.”
Here are some personal thoughts and ideas on how you can keep your “fur baby” cool during the summer months:
UPDATE – Cesar Millan recently Tweeted this: “Dogs sweat thru the pads of their feet, but their primary way to keep cool is panting. Overheated dogs drool excessively.”
Have any other ideas? Share them in the comments! And while you’re at it, wish a big happy birthday to Danielle’s other half!
Earlier I was speaking with a friend in an attempt to find a topic to blog about. After politely declining the subject of the Middle Eastern conflict (you can read about that elsewhere), he suggested “the fleeting nature of women’s fashion and how it breeds unnecessary consumerism.” Seemed to me that was a bit of a sore spot so I probed further…
As it turns out, his wife was petitioning to him for a new pair of boots, justifying said boots because they were on sale from $350 down to $250. It seemed reasonable to me. His argument, however, was that she already has a number of perfectly good boots. And further, she wanted these new boots simply based on the fact that “the toes are more blunt on these ones.” And with that, I sided with him instantly.
I can readily admit that it took me a long, long time to finally understand the concept of shoes beyond basic function. I could appreciate how essential it is to own a pair of sneakers, a pair of heels, maybe some galoshes for the winter and, most definitely, snowboard boots for obvious purposes. But it wasn’t until I finally hit my mid-20s and decided to buck fashion trends for what I wanted to wear that I was able to recognize just how crucially footwear is correlated to fashion.
They say that shoes make an outfit, and it’s true. Imagine a dreamy, creamy summer dress paired with black, square-heeled pumps instead of ballet flats or espadrilles. Or a sleek and tailored pantsuit with a pair of Doc Martens. Ridiculous, I know. But does this mean that it’s necessary to hit the shoe shops for countless pairs to match with each and every outfit? I think not.
Why did I disagree with my friend’s wife’s attempt at rationalization as mentioned above? To purchase a pair of boots simply for a different toe style is completely unnecessary. Flip open any Vogue magazine. While the pages are plastered with couture, cruise wear and the unconventional, a running theme is fashion that exudes class, style and tradition. I’m of the opinion that it’s okay to spend several hundred on a pair of boots – bearing in mind that they should be both functional and timeless in their design.
While my sturdy pair of Frye boots may run upwards of $350, will I still be wearing these a decade from now? The chances are quite likely. The same can’t be said of footwear (or any fashion, for that matter) that is trendy or fad-ariffic. Style du jour will fade with each season and disappear like a tumbleweed. And other items, such as the perfect pair of jeans, a stunning little black dress or delicate heels are comparable to a Chanel suit – iconic fashion statements that transcend the passing of time. Those pieces are what are worth the extra dollars.
On a final note, what is it with men and boots? My friend also confirmed to me that almost every man finds a woman in boots irresistible. Perhaps I’m just a little naïve (or maybe my brain doesn’t function as imaginatively), but what goes through a man’s head when he sees a woman in boots? And further, do you men prefer a woman in boots or a woman in a sexy pair of shoes?
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.
It would seem I’ve been missing-in-action from the online world over the last two days. No blogging, no Twitter. Sometimes a break is nice, but it’s even nicer to get back to it. Here’s what you, me and we missed out on…
Video: tempest_kat on Flickr
I’m not the only one Lex has fallen head-over-heels for. It seems Charley’s found herself a younger man…
They’ve been on a few (play) dates now, exploring nature together. I can’t wait for Christmas so I can get a snapshot of the two of them kissing in front of the Christmas tree!
Video: tempest_kat on Flickr

Photo: basykes on Flickr
See this handbag…the one I’m toting here?
When I first bought it from Joe Fresh (yah, at Superstore) a few months ago, I fell in love with it. And because it was so cheap (it was $4.95 – I literally paid for it with pocket change), I bought two more to keep on deck. But the straps on that bag have been pissing me off for so long now because they have no hope in hell of staying on my shoulder. They’re always slipping, slipping, slipping down every ten seconds and I’m ready to rip the handles off and dance all over them, Danny Tanner style.
This has been a thoroughly discouraging experience. I’m done with Joe Fresh.