It’s one of those perfect Vancouver evenings – the kind where the weather assures us that Autumn has arrived but also that Winter will very soon come blustering in without much warning. It’s perfectly cozy.

The rain is falling in sheets, the wind is whipping around the City’s towers and whistling in the elevator shafts, leaves slick the sidewalks (and the boots that tread them), the coffee-pimping mermaid has decorated her shops in red, white and sprinkles and your humble narrator is once again blogging in her leg warmers.

Did I mention that I set up my Christmas tree last night?

While I had planned to wait until returning from Phoenix, I found myself sipping on a perfect peppermint latte yesterday afternoon. The taste created inspiration and my mind snowballed from there.

I got home from work and cleaned every inch of my 434 square-foot apartment before hauling three bags and a box from my storage locker. Tree, lights, sparkly ornaments, a shining star and a fistful of Christmas CDs.

Call me crazy but wouldn’t you make the most of something you loved so much? Christmas comes only once a year and it’s absolutely my favourite, so I’ll milk it for all it is worth.

I’m going to walk three feet into the kitchen and fry up a garlic and grilled cheese sandwich with squash and nutmeg soup for dinner. While I do that, you can stay here and check out my little man…

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

A few years ago, I was in my boss’s office when he asked me what the difference is between a website and a blog. After a brief description of each, he asked if I, in fact, had a blog. He then proceeded to pointedly ask me why anyone would be at all interested in what I have to say about anything. While he meant it mostly in jest, he also made a very good point. Why would anyone be interested in what I have to say? Half the time I’m not interested in what I have to say, so why would someone else?

Over the last eight months, my frequency of blog posting has dwindled faster than my bank account balance at the Clinique counter. While it isn’t that I don’t have anything to say, the narcissistic charm that blogging once held has been slowly fading away. Allowing perfect strangers a view to a thrill during bikini season has lost that loving feeling, while no one really needs (or should care) to know what I made for dinner, which movie I went to see or who I’ve been hanging out with these days.

My mother loves to take photos when we go for walks. This, however, normally translates to stopping every 400 metres to stage a shot. While her enthusiasm is sweet, and there’s always a time and a place for snapping photos, how can two people create memories together if they’re too busy trying to capture them on a digital memory card? I’d rather live and love my life rather than watch it pass me by because I’m too busy letting everyone else know.

Maybe Twitter has led to the demise of it all. I’ve realized that I can share my wit and wisdom in 140 characters or less, rather than dragging each of you through a large volume of mostly superfluous paragraphs just so I can hear myself speak, so to speak. (Though speaking of, doesn’t “superfluous” strike you as a bit ironic because it is, in itself, a superfluous word?)

However, that said, some people still have an insatiable need to know, some people still love to lurk and I still love to mold the English language, bending it to my will. Let me break down these days for you:

Photo: Comox Valley SPCA
Bobbi Sue 4 is available for adoption.

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.

Meet Jake and Zack. Both boys are pomeranians and, though not brothers, clearly have a lot of cuddly love for each other.

I’m sure your first instinct may have been a heartfelt “awww…” However, if you look closer, you’ll notice that Zack is missing his right eye. If Jake’s mouth was open, you wouldn’t see a single tooth. And though their bodies are being held in a big hug, what you don’t see are the massive patches of fur that have been ripped off and the deep wounds that cover their bodies.

Jake and Zack were seized just two weeks ago from a hoarding breeder within BC and, if you can believe it, were forced to engage in dog fighting. Yes, these little 3 and 7-pound pomeranians were forced to rip at each other. Now they’ve got a loving – yet temporary – home with Jordy’s former foster mom. These boys are just two of many dogs that you have the opportunity to help out.

Do you have a craft, some dog toys or supplies, a business, a service or just something extra lying around that could fetch a price?

Please consider donating to the silent auction that Furever After Small Dog Rescue is holding in late November. Jordy is just one of many dogs who’ve been helped and re-home through this fantastic organization.

If you’d like to help out, please leave a comment or contact me directly. Donated items are tax deductible and 100% of the proceeds help dogs like Jake and Zack.

The countless destinations scattered across Vancouver Island are each known for something special and unique. Though nestled along its namesake river, the rushing body of water is only one of many things Campbell River has become famous for.

Photo: Macpablo_Campbell_River on Flickr

Photo: Logantech on Flickr

Resting on Earth’s 50th parallel, this city of 32,000 is a short 90-minute drive from Nanaimo and a three-hour trip from Victoria. Serviced mainly by the Island Highway, route 19, access to Campbell River can also be gained by air or by sea.

Map: Beaver Lodge Bed & Breakfast

The Kwakwaka’wakw people of the Wakashan First Nations migrated from Fort Rupert, rooting down in the area in the 1700s. It’s believed that this group dominated much of the land and neighbouring bands, including the Coastal Salish. When Captain George Vancouver sailed in by way of what’s now known as Discovery Passage in 1792, the town of Campbell River very slowly began more than 200 years of settlement to become the city it is today.

Photo: Discover Campbell River

Campbell River from Smelt Bay, Cortes Island – Photo: proudlydonut on Flickr

With deep roots in hard work and industry, Campbell River has long been known as a fishing town. Curiosity began as early as 1880 when sport fishermen discovered the abundance of salmon. It wasn’t long before the industry sector caught on as well.

Since then, lodges, fishing groups and even conservation groups have sprung up, each with an interest in what Campbell River is famous for. The area has even played host to some Hollywood infusion, welcoming the likes of Bob Hope and Bing Crosby over the years, all vying to angle the “perfect catch.”

Photo: Macpablo_Campbell_River on Flickr

Photo: Logantech on Flickr

Anyone who has visited Campbell River will attest to the small town nature and charm that’s still evident on city streets and in the magnificent views. Though much has changed over the last handful of centuries, the moonlight still hits Discovery Passage the same way it always has.

Photo: russilwvong on Flickr

Photo: Fizzcity Gallery on Flickr

Local First Nations bands still have a strong and proud presence in this community of hard-working citizens. Many of Campbell River’s families work in industry sectors including fishing and the local pulp mill. Tourism is also a big draw, and it’s not unusual to see luxurious cruise ships criss-crossing off the shore en route to Alaska.

Discovery Passage – Photo: Frans & All on Flickr

Growing up, I always knew we were nearing Campbell River on our trips when I spotted the incredible – and graffiti-laden – boulder near Oyster Bay.

Photo: Alanna@VanIsle on Flickr

Photo: clompers on Flickr

With seemingly endless natural beauty, it should come as no surprise that a number of blockbuster movies were filmed in and around Campbell River. Some of these films include The 13th Warrior, Final Destination 2 (highway scenes outside Campbell River), Seven Years In Tibet, The Scarlet Letter and Trapped.

Photo: Tony Cyphert on Flickr

Photo: Macpablo_Campbell_River on Flickr

With its close proximity to ferry service and a local airport, there’s no excuse to skip past Campbell River. Though a little out of the way of some of Vancouver Island’s bigger cities, it’s well worth the trip – and very close to Mt. Washington. For more information on the region, or to plan your trip, visit Campbell River Tourism’s website.

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.

With 2010 around the corner, news outlets are reporting that bookings have increased at ski resorts in BC’s interior. With the crowds and chaos expected during the month of February on the North Shore and in Whistler, it really comes as no surprise. While our interior’s small towns may boast some tasty snow, may I instead suggest something with a view as well?

I know me and my favourite gal are looking forward to it…

While the deadline for early bird season passes has come and gone, that doesn’t mean you can’t still hit Mount Washington for a fantastic day rate (considerably less expensive than comparable mountains in the interior) once the snow starts falling. Here’s hoping that the dusting that fell last week is just a preview of what’s to come.

Crews have been scrambling over the last month to clear brush, bushes and trees to make for expertly sculpted runs on some of the best snow BC has to offer. Also new for the 2009/2010 season is extended night skiing.

Photo: Mount Washington Alpine Resort

It’s bright lights, big mountain with twilight riding operating from 3:30 p.m. until 10:00 p.m. – that’s a lot of skiing or snowboarding in a 24-hour period. Hungry bellies and beer cravings can still be satisfied at a number of Mount Washington’s dining establishments that are also gearing up. And remember that you don’t need to go far to get a good night’s sleep (only to get up and do it all over again the next day) – tons of gorgeous condos and chalets dot the side of the mountain.

For more information and to plot a winter escape to Vancouver Island, visit Mount Washington’s website. I’m pretty sure that the winter packages will blow your mind.

I’ve been more prayerful this year. When people ask me if I consider myself religious, for some reason I take offense. No one, however, asks me if I consider myself spiritual. I consider myself spiritual. By that it can be construed that I’m deeply aware of the spiritual aspect to my whole self. It’s as much a part of me as my mental well-being, my emotional quotient and the health of my physical body.

I believe in God; yup, the supreme Allah. He’s who I pray to, who I believe in and who I share it all with. Not out of a sense of duty or of obligation. It’s born out of the simple desire to feel connected to Him and to keep my spiritual heartbeat strong because without either then… what? Exactly. I never want my life to read like a guilt-inducing slogan on the neon sign of a church. I’d rather it resemble the sensation of a breeze in a tree or the roll of a wave.

A couple weeks ago I was twirling my hair like I usually do only to find some unusually short pieces in the back. As my fingers searched, I found a few more small sections that were more than six inches shorter than the rest of my hair. Panic. I’ve always had long, strong, soft hair and never experienced any breakage.

A few weeks before this incident, I started using the shampoo bars from Lush in an effort to save cash. Though I know that shampoo that excessively lathers generally isn’t good for your hair, I liked the smell and felt squeaky clean afterwards, so I kept with it. That is, however, until I found tons of broken, thirsty, stripped and damaged hair.

I didn’t waste a single minute booking with Mari at Lounge Hair Studio. While most people would like to sugarcoat a situation, Mari simply shook her head and told me it’s “really bad.” An hour and a half, a follicle treatment, deep conditioning and almost six inches later, this is the result:

Shorter? Yes, but with new layers, swing and softness – and thankful I didn’t walk away with hair as short as Betty Draper. I’ve been forbidden from using Lush’s shampoo bars ever again and cautioned against any other cheap-quality shampoos. Keep your meat-eating snickering to yourself because this is the first time this has ever happened to me. As much as I’d like to save money, I’m indefinitely back on the Bumble train.

Check back in a few weeks… Mari’s giving me Cameron Diaz’s colour.

Growing up, most of us went through musical phases by genre, but in my case I seemingly went through phases based on geography. At one point I was in a British chapter, listening only to Duran Duran, Blur, Pulp, Oasis and The Verve. During junior high I was stuck on the U.S. of A. and couldn’t get enough of Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Stone Temple Pilots. Looking back, the most loved part of my musical trip around the world was most definitely Canada.

Canadian music has, without a doubt, had the deepest impact on my personal musical history. While I’m not sure if the same is true for most of you, I know that for myself, I can pinpoint almost any time in my life and attach a song to it. When I entered high school, “Naveed” by Our Lady Peace was forever on repeat. During the summer of 1996, many day trips down Vancouver Island were filled by Sarah McLachlan’s “Building A Mystery.” High school graduation was marked with Bif Naked’s I Bificus and I can recall countless snow-filled walks through my mom’s neighbourhood in the Comox Valley with Sam Roberts’ debut record spinning on my Sony Discman.

Perhaps it’s simply the fact that, because these artists are homegrown, there’s a naturally instilled sense of pride when listening. Whatever the reason for the intrinsic connection to music of the Canadiana variety, it amazes me how nourishing it feels to re-visit my past by listening once again. Several days ago I purchased “Bobcaygeon” by the Tragically Hip on iTunes and have since lost count of the number of times I’ve listened to it. That is, however, when I’m not relentlessly spinning Closer, Sarah McLachlan’s greatest hits collection.

Maybe these songs feel safe to me. Maybe these songs represent times in my life when everything turned out alright and serve to remind me that everything is still turning out alright – or even better than before. Regardless, despite it all, this music ensures that I walk to work each day with a huge grin on my face. Yes, even on Mondays.