Magpies

By now you are all quite familiar with my little sis, Magpie. She's the funny sister, and, depending on whom you ask, also the pretty sister, the fun sister, the successful sister (career + husband + baby), the forgiving sister, the artistic sister, and now that I'm shacked up with Hawk, the good sister, too.

Well you know what? I'm the tall sister and I was here first!

I'm off topic. The topic was supposed to be that because Magpie, Mum and I had a lovely girls' night last week for the first time in what felt like ages, I wanted to write a post about Magpie.

We went to Transcend, had hot drinks and cookies, and chatted for a couple of hours. The evening was a very pleasant one. It started out as a party: Hawk's good buddy was still at our place, and we invited Mum, Magpie, Noolbenger, and Cobrastarshine for dinner. I made taco salad without spilling taco meat on any of my appendages. After dinner, there were some shenanigans with the camera:

I think there is a baby in this photo, too. Otherwise, I don't know what Noolbenger is looking at.

I give up protecting Cobrastarshine's identity with black bars over his eyes. When he hits puberty, he's either gonna think this is awesome and I'm the best Aunty ever, or hate me for the rest of his life. It's a gamble I've got to take for the sake of my art.

Then the boys went their separate ways, Hawk and co. to write, Noolbenger and Cobrastarshine to their home in Dovercourt. Finally, the girls were free!

There are no photographs to document the next several hours because that shit got crazy.

Anyway, that's not the point of the story. The point is, the good conversation Mum, Magpie and I had made me want to blog about Magpie.

But how do I go about this? Do I try to define the essential Magpieness of Magpie?

Or instead, do I tell MORE AWESOME MAGPIE STORIES?

That's what I thought.

Story time!

I'll work backward in time. The other day, when everyone was here, I guess I left my massive to-do list out. Magpie saw it and added to it. When I saw her addition, I had no choice but to check it off and send her a picture. The subject of my email was "Done and Done".

It says "Eat Poops". I crossed it out and double check-marked it for comedic effect.

Her reply to my email?

"i'm so funny"

I only get to see Magpie about once a week. That's pretty good for most sisters, I guess, but we lived together for years and worked together for years. Now that she's on maternity leave, I think it's safe to say we're both in sista withdrawl. Sure we used to get into raging fights and hated each other for large swathes of our teenage years, but I think now that we are adults, we can finally fully appreciate each other.

She's been drawing a sketch a day and I think she's got an idea generator. When it told her to draw her BEST FRIEND, I instructed her to draw ME. She agreed, not even very reluctantly. However. I have not yet seen this picture. It's been several days. I'm getting worried it might be a picture of her husband or the dog or WORSE! Another WOMAN!

Because we're besties, we send each other LOTS of emails. (Example to follow. Let me get there already). I was saving this one in hopes that there'd be more like it, and I could do a post that was all Home Maintenance by Magpie, but alas, nothing in ages. So, I think I will end this post about Magpie in Magpie's voice.

So yesterday I started doing some outdoor home maintenance that I always gotsta do in the summer.  Like trimming stuff, mowing blah blah, sweeping the siding.  I was working on the front step when I noticed that the "1" in 13303 was missing.  I wasn't sure how long it hadn't been there, but was pretty certain I had just swept it away.  I looked all over.  Could not find the "1".  So, I made my OWN.  This is the far away shot.  Looks...okay.  But in the next email you see that no.  It does not look okay.

This is an upclose shot.  Yep.  Cardboard, permanent marker and duct tape.  I know.  I am amazing.

There is something missing from the list at the beginning of the blog. She's also the resourceful sister. If she weren't so damn funny and self-deprecating, no one would notice how hilarious that 1 looks. How many people do you know can solve problems and be hilarious at the same time?

Dear god, I hope she sent me those photos with the intent of publishing them ...

Guest Posts: Dick's Final Installment

Here it is! The breathtaking conclusion to DICK'S SURGERY!

DICK’S SURGERY 

Instalment Six, Success and Checkout

10:00. “I’ll lie here and wait for the urge. I’d better not sleep in case my bladder relaxes then spasms; that would be a disaster. I’ll just think of pleasant things:  Mrs. Dick in the garden pruning her roses; better yet, nurse Sarah in the garden.”

10:30. “Nothing yet. I suppose I shouldn’t get so uptight; the nurses have been very kind and supportive.” 

10:45. “I may as well get up and see what happens. It’s pretty dark in here; I’d better ring for Nurse Fannie.”

“What’s up Dick?” she chimed out in her usual friendly way.

“Let’s do it,” I said. Fanny led the way to the bathroom, turned on the light, ran water in the sink and slid the door closed behind her. I sat there, the plastic sombrero situated expectantly in the front of the toilet. I was more relaxed now. “And here we go:  100 ... 200 ... 300 mL,” I counted as the plastic hat filled.

From there the night went well. Not much sleep, but more peeing and even some pooping. I had succeeded!

One last physio session, dressed in the hospital gown over my pyjama bottoms.   “Drop your pants so I can check your wound,” said Nurse Gillian. The wound looked good.

Next was X-ray:  “Drop your pants so I have a clear shot at that hip.”  

Then to ultrasound:  “Drop your pants so I can check your leg for blood clots.” 

Time to be discharged and here’s Nurse Gillian with the checkout sheet. “Physio, check. BM, check. 200 mL of pee, check. X-ray, check. Ultrasound, check. Fragmin self administration ...”  Before that dedicated nurse could continue, my heroic Mrs. Dick threw her entire five feet nothing, 100 pound frame on the unsuspecting nurse and sent her flying into a nearby laundry cart. I grabbed the sheet, checked off that final item, signed the sheet, grabbed my copy and hobbled away as quickly as I could, dragging my walker behind me, through the front doors to the old truck, hand in hand with my very own Mrs. Dick.

Mrs. Dick, ready to turn the compost.

Excuses

I know you are all waiting for the final instalment of Dick's Surgery.

You will have to wait some more. It comes with an illustration by Magpie, and that illustration isn't done yet.

Here's part of why. In Magpie's words:

I hate today.  I was just out cleaning the front of the garage because it was super dirty.  I was going to use my windex sprayer that attaches to the hose.  But it loosened off and I got drenched, so I tried to reattach it and got more soaked, so I turned the water off and reattached it, but it fell off again and I got even MORE soaked.  

Then I decided to just use the normal sprayer and got soaked by that, then I cleaned the doors and paint chipped off of them.  

Also, the second time I tried to use the windex it popped off while I was in the driveway.  I took it, threw it (hard, while making some kind of warrior amazon woman roar), it hit the fence so I ran up and PUNTED it while yelling MOTHER FUCKER.

Our neighbours probably fear me.

Then she illustrated that little incident instead of Dick's Surgery.

I think I'll remind her about the picture she promised Mr. Finchley when she calms down.

Conversations

That's right. I can speak Baby.

Curses

I have a dress and it is cursed.

I saw this dress in Smart Set one time when Sandcat and I were taking a break from work. It's so pretty.

I thought, finally! A maxi dress with shape and flow! And such a lovely pattern! And colours perfect for my skintone!

Sandcat and I weren't really on a trying-on-clothes break, so I decided to go back for it later. There may or may not have been whispered promises made (to the dress) over my shoulder as I left the store.

That weekend, Hawk and I went shopping. I was on a mission. Nothing could deter me! Not even a full change room! Not even Hawk's doubts about whether I could wear it to work! I purchased my first ever maxi dress.

I wore it to dinner the day I bought it.

That's when the curse began.

Hawk and I dined at Cocoa's in the Delta downtown. I was eating peppercorn steak with mashed potatoes and mixed veggies. It was quite delicious. I would roll the veggies in the gravy, just for a bit of spice, then deliver them to my mouth, savouring every bite.

At least, that's what I did with the zucchini, and the asparagus, and the red pepper. Not so with the carrot.

No, the carrot slipped off my fork onto the tablecloth. The nice, clean tablecloth. A tablecloth fit to eat off. So, I delicately speared the carrot with my fork again and raised it to my mouth. At least—I started to.

Then, everything went wrong. The carrot bounced off my perfectly flounced bosom onto the floor, leaving a streak of gravy in its wake.

The next time I wore the maxi dress, its hem caught in the strap of my Jesus sandals (note: when shopping for shoes, a good rule of thumb is to pause and ask yourself "WWJW?", or, "What would Jesus wear?")

That ankle strap plus my hem? Dangerous combination. Also. This fucking shoe is now on sale for $14. I cannot believe I paid $40 for a FOURTEEN DOLLAR SHOE! I think that is something Jesus would NOT approve of. He always struck me as being rather thrifty. In fact, he'd probably buy one shoe for $7 and multiply it into a pair, then maybe a second pair in brown.

Anyway. Now the hem is ripped a bit and I haven't yet fixed it. I don't know if I'll get a chance to fix it, because this dress is cursed!

I wore it to work and I spilled my lunch on it. That was the day I realised the dress was cursed.

I wore it on the weekend and the velcro closure on my laptop bag attached itself to the front and pulled a bunch of fibres out.

The belt is now lost in the wilds of my bedroom.

I wore it last Sunday and got a sunburn.

I modelled it for my Mum for this blog post and this was the closest I could get to a smile.

Probably next time I wear it I will be on my way to work in the morning and get run over by a hipster cyclist on a one-speed. He won't be wearing a helmet, but I'll be the one who gets the concussion.

BECAUSE THIS DRESS IS CURSED!

Summertime Adventures: Part IV

Another thing you can do in Edmonton in the summer if you are Hawk is to invite your old friend to town for two weeks to write a screenplay and spend the first four or five days doing other stuff. (UPDATE: Screenplay is now almost done. Soon they will be famous and I will regret poking fun at them when they take each other to the Academy Awards and not me.)

Like go to West Edmonton Mall on a hot, hot Sunday afternoon instead of going to Heritage Days (another Edmonton Festival, like A Taste of Edmonton, that is woefully similar every single year).

Here is Hawk and his buddy at Bourbon Street.

This photograph is meaningful for a few reasons. One, one of these guys doesn't like having his picture taken and isn't here for me to ask if I can publish it. Oops. Two, it's a great relief that I got to take the picture, because mere hours before this, one of these guys was riding THE ROLLER COASTER THAT FELL APART!!!!!!!!!!  (FORESHADOWING!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

When I was little, Galaxyland was called Fantasyland, but I guess there is also a Disney Fantasyland so Disney sued West Edmonton Mall and they had to change the name and decorate it with an unbelievably hideous space theme.

Here you can see Hawk standing between some of Galaxland's hideous pillars, which I think 
are supposed to be a rip-off of the inside of the TARDIS, only painted
blue and yellow. At least Hawk is looking sexy. Me-ow!

Another thing that happened when I was little* was the roller coaster in West Edmonton Mall broke and killed some people and as far as I'm concerned, that means it is set to break again any second.

That is incredibly illogical. It's probably now the safest, most strictly maintained coaster in the world to make sure it doesn't ever break again, but I dunno ... it freaks me out.

Plus, there are two different roller coaster type rides intertwined here,
the red track (doom) and the yellow track, which looks like it might be a fun ride
except for the fact that it is intertwined with DOOM!

Hawk and I had to wait approximately FOREVER for his friend to have his turn on the coaster so I took a bunch of piccys.

VROOM! When that car flew under the pedway I almost wet myself,
it was so fast and noisy. (Exaggeration level: slight. I actually almost barfed.)

Doop-de-doo

The rides are set up in such a way that some, like this one, go right over your
head if you are standing on the pedway. Not only are they intertwined
with each other, but they are intertwined with innocent bystanders.

We were running late for our movie so I didn't get to ride the carousel. If I were there with my Papa,
I WOULD HAVE GOT TO RIDE THE CAROUSEL!

Anyway, it's super good that the roller coaster didn't crash and fall apart and kill a bunch of people again. 

______________________

 *These summertime adventure blog posts sure are heavy on things that traumatized me in the past, eh?  Like that tornado, now known as Black Friday, mentioned here? I'm still scared of tornadoes. I get nightmares. This one time when Magpie and I had a babysitter, there was a tornado warning so I gathered up all my precious things in my comforter and spent the evening hiding in the basement bathroom like a coward. Summer is scary!

Summertime Adventures: Part III

Every night during Klondike Days, I mean Capital EX, I mean, whatever, at 11:00 pm, Hawk and I would hear the fireworks go off. Some nights this would happen.

     HAWK: The fireworks are going off! Let's get out of bed
           and go look at them!
     RED PANDA: SHUT UP HAWK

Sometimes this would happen.

     RED PANDA:  Oooh, Hawk, the fireworks are going off!
     HAWK: [From the office]  That's nice.
     RED PANDA:  LOOK AT THE DAMN FIREWORKS HAWK

One night, Red Panda discovered the "Fireworks" setting on her camera*. She subsequently discovered that her hands are VERY shaky. However, she is presenting some of those photographs here today because they look like she took them that way on purpose.

I totally took them this way on purpose. If you want good photos, go see this blog. You know you come here for funzies, not high art.

That's the CN Tower on the right, getting in the way. It's much less ugly at nighttime when you can't see it.

I hope you enjoyed my artsy fireworks photos!

Note: I wasn't even tempted to caption them with Katy Perry until I was halfway done typing that last sentence. Now I'm VERY tempted ... but I'll spare us all the embarrassment. You're welcome.

_______________________________
*Yes Magpie, I don't know how to use my camera. Shutty.

Summertime Adventures: Part II

There are lots of fun things to do in Edmonton in the summer. One of these fun things is called Capital Ex.

Capital Ex used to be called the Edmonton Exhibition. In 1964, it was renamed Klondike Days, shifting the theme to reflect Edmonton's history as a stopping point on the route to the Klondike during the Gold Rush. I wasn't there in '64; it might not have seemed like such a silly idea at the time. If you have lived in Edmonton in recent years (unless you live under a rock in Edmonton) then you are probably aware of the recent name change. Wait, what? Changes?

The organisers of the fair, Northlands, changed the name to Capital EX (both the E and the X are capitals) with the spurious reasoning that "everyone calls it The Ex anyway". At least, that is what I recall hearing in the media. Everyone I knew called it K-Days for short.

Personally, I was fine with the name change. The Klondike Days theme was fine, and didn't really need to be changed as far as the average fair-goer was concerned, but at least Capital EX referred to Edmonton ... dear me, I will be getting into hot water with the Klondike Days enthusiasts now!

Now, after a mere six years, they decided that Capital EX wasn't a good enough name. It didn't really resonate with Edmontonians. Northlands opened up the new name selection to voting.

BIG BAD IDEA.  Edmontonians are stupid! Case in point?

My last blog entry.

I had always assumed that Edmonton's slogan, "City of Champions", referred to sports, as, while growing up, I'd heard it so often applied to sports. It seems, though, that when the term was coined, a completely different sort of champion was in mind: a survivor. Indeed, the champion reference is about how Edmontonians responded after the Black Friday tornado in 1987. Life and death/sports. That's how smart we are.

Naturally, the Edmontonians who cared enough to vote voted to name the fesitval K-Days. As in, short for Klondike Days, but not actually short for Klondike days; offically K-Days.

So, here are some photos of an exhibition with an ACTUAL name. You won't see anything like this next year!

Riding the Tilt-A-Whirl is a Red Panda and Hawk tradition.

Remember what I said about Hawk and barbecue?

A funny photo of me to end the set. I didn't know this is what I look like.

Know why I love going to Capital Ex (soon to be K-Days) every year? The evening after Hawk and I went the first time, he told me he was falling in love with me.

Summertime Adventures: Part I

Sometimes people call Edmonton The Festival City. I think that's a misnomer because I think all cities have festivals all summer long. Edmonton has a major identity crisis going on right now (wait for the future post where I describe our trip to Capital Ex for more on that). For now, I muse, can they really be the City of Champions with their hockey team performing the way it has been? (Sandcat tells me it's a team-building year.) Or with our famous Olympian triathlete coming in last, and having to apologise to us? My goodness.

See this sign? It's official. What's there to do?

Well, Hawk and I like to visit Edmonton's festivals whether we are the City of Champions, Festival City, or City of Champion Festivals. I don't know how many of them we missed, or will yet miss this summer, but we've made it to our two favourites so far. The first one we hit up was A Taste of Edmonton.

A Taste of Edmonton is my favourite summer festival because it is all about eating, then, if you are in the mood, it can become all about drinking.

I remember the first time I went. It was with Magpie. The day was superhot. We ate way too much and were so thirsty, yet instead of going for water, we had wee thought bubbles over both our heads with images of Ice Cold Coca Colas in them. We hit up a vending machine. Ice Cold Coca Cola vended for us. I twisted the lid and WHOOSH Ice Cold Coca Cola baptism.

It was awesome.

Until we got home and found the boys eating a freshly ordered pizza. The smell of greasy delicious cheese mixed with the heat and our distended bellies was too much. We were forced outside onto the back stoop to loll in the sun like overfed basset hounds, contemplating how good it would feel to empty our tummies versus how bad it would feel to vomit up greasy food and no-longer Ice Cold Coca Cola.

This year I was going to write a proper, descriptive food blog about what Hawk and I ate. But really, there isn't much point, because the food at A Taste of Edmonton is generally good food. The same usually reputable restaurants come every year and serve their same best dishes. It's a no-lose situation, unless, like me, you want to see what else the Lingnan has to offer besides Crack Chicken. Or Padmanadi's besides Salty (not-) Chicken Strips. Y'know?

Also, I took too long to get my butt in gear with the writing. So instead, pictures with captions, in the hopes that you, too, will be tempted to come to Edmonton and try out A TASTE OF EDMONTON.

Deep-fried won tons from Panda Hut Express. They also gave us a coupon. Inside the wontons was cream cheese and crab. They were delicious, but so rich I felt sorta queasy after, and they were the first thing we ate! I don't know how I feel about them. When I was little, we'd go to Chinatown in Vancouver and get Won Ton Soup and Dad would tell me I was eating rat brains and I wasn't sure if I should believe him or not. I think I like rat brain won tons better than the deep fried variety, but I sure wouldn't want to be walking around in a crowd slurping hot soup. I find the won tons have left me in a state of internal crisis.

Hawk has a barbecue problem. He also has a coffee problem, but that's another blog. I think that in the two times we went he must have had four barbecue dishes. I could look it up on my paper, but I'm too lazy. This is some sort of pork on a bun with coleslaw. Hawk thought it was amazing. I was ambivalent. I like my barbecue cooked on a barbecue, not just barbecue flavoured. Hawk didn't care. Hawk was happy. Hawk got to eat most of it.

Padmanadi's salty chicken strips were overcooked. In my head, the chickens were laughing at me twice, once, for escaping, and secondly, because my false chicken was crunchy. DAMN YOU, CHICKENS WITH YOUR SNARKY ATTITUDE!

After the second barbecue pork on a bun (barbecue, not barbecued, because it was not cooked on a barbecue. Barbecue, I recently discovered, is incredibly complicated. See the comments on: http://grammar.quickanddirtytips.com/is-it-ok-to-abbreviate-barbecue-as-bbq.aspx), I quit taking pictures. Oh, Hawk.

It sure was busy. Sorry I don't have any pictures of myself. My face was covered in food.
Mmmm.

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City of Champions photo from http://www.canadabulldog.com/where.