Painting Party

Regular readers know that H and I are in the habit of neglecting our blog after a visit. Perhaps it is because we've just seen each other, and find the blog cold and impersonal (mockery is so much better in person, no?). However, the weekend was a success.

• Did we (M) paint? Yes, almost every wall in her apartment. C'est magnifique!
  
• Did H finally buy furniture? In theory, yes. The delivery services forget that a key part of their job is delivering said furniture.
  
• What about money. Did M spend it all? Hmm. A fair chunk. H needed a lot, but she'll be happier for it.
  
• Will H be OK, financially? Of course! She has enough left that she won't need to rent out her air mattress to the neighbourhood crack whores.
  
• Was M harassed by airport security? Yes, she was politely groped by a respectful guard. But he did ask nicely.
  

More pictures to come, but for now, here's a taste of our weekend:
If you like gin, you'll like H's weekend creation: combine equal parts of gin, lemonade and club soda over ice, garnish with frozen blueberries. As the blueberries thaw, their juices mix into the drink for a funky effect. Seriously tasty stuff.

Sisters Are Doin' It For Themselves

Now that H has been reimbursed (am I not entitled to payment for services and expertise?), I'm looking forward to my upcoming visit. I clearly didn't spend enough time with her over the holidays.

I do like home projects. As H can tell you, I'm always doing something to (hopefully improve) my house, though if it takes too long, I tend to get distracted, stop, and hope that someone else will finish it off. That never happens.

But our weekend will be different. I can tell her what to do, without any of her impudence. She'll thoughtfully listen to my advice and let me spend her money. (Furniture! Paint! Throw pillows!) She won't mock my colour wheel or collection of fabric swatches, or call me Martha (to my face, anyway). If we get cranky, I know I can lighten the mood by using completely legitimate and relevant terms like butt gauge and stud finder.

We've got a packed agenda, but it won't all be work: she's also promised to take me to her favourite coffee house (!), tea house, and pub. Anything to distract her from crimping her hair.

Oh, Sister, Where Art Thou?

In certain Canadian provinces, February brings something called "Family Day." No, it's not as lame as it sounds. For suckers with jobs, it's a day off work, ostensibly to be with your family even though most spend it with their beloved PlayStations. For those who don't work, it's just another day.

This upcoming Family Day M is coming to visit me. She even got me to book her ticket in a brilliant tax-evasion scheme for which I have not yet been reimbursed.

You see, my new apartment is rather lacking in, well, everything, which includes furniture and multiple spoons. And although I'm now used to my lonely air mattress and no longer think that this place looks like a hovel where you'd go to screw for 10 bucks, M thinks it needs a more lived-in appeal. Maybe M-as-in-Martha-Stewart is right.

At first I said, "Hell, I've got Internet access, a few bowls, and a air mattress with a sophisticated built-in pump. What more could I need?"

M said, "Do you have a chair?"

H: "No."

M: "More than one fork?"

H: "No."

M: "Have you taken a vow? Joined a cult? Or otherwise gone bankrupt and you're just too ashamed to tell me?"

H: "Not yet."

M: "Then I think I can help you."

H: "Fine. But no accent walls."


How much would you pay to use this space by the hour? (Cat not included.)

Professional Service, My Ass

As H offered up in last week's post, I had a troubling encounter with airport security. More of an embarrassing inconvenience than anything, but we felt I should tell all. The event occurred after I checked my bag and had made my way in line for pre-boarding screening.

I was paired up with a delightfully pleasant security officer who began looking through my carry-on bag. That's expected. What wasn't expected was his horrified reaction to my travel-sized sunscreen, sample mascara and lip balm, flouting the required clear plastic bag. OK, I'll admit that I should have checked the sunscreen (at least) but I did ask the first security officer about my "contraband" and she did confirm I could take it with me without a baggie. (Yes, it was an actual security officer; no, it wasn't someone who looked like one.)

When he questioned why it wasn't bagged, I told him the first security officer said it was fine, and even pointed her out, feeling a bit like a tattle tale as I did so. But that didn't wash with the petty bureaucrat, because he lectured me about "security protocols, travel safety, and dangerous, liquid goods" and condescended how there are signs posted everywhere, why couldn't I read? He placed my sunscreen in a baggie, then the lip balm (after opening it and sniffing it – ew) and then the tiny tube of mascara, but not before shaking it in my face and saying, "This is a liquid!"

Honestly, if I hadn't been so angry, I would have been laughing.

Before I was moved on to the metal detector, he mused that I seemed "perturbed", and asked if there anything I wanted to say to him. Not wishing to get detained, I kept my thoughts to myself and told him I was "fine".

After the metal detector, I went to grab my bag, but another security officer stopped me and asked to look through my belongings. I told her to go ahead, then she called yet another security officer-in-training over to the station and said, "I don't know what I'll find, but I know I'll find something."

Fantastic.

So I watched as she pulled everything out, as she took each magazine by the spine to shake them out, opened my wallet and examined each coin, opened each pocket, opened my key chain light (a present from my dad!) and peer inside, and finally, poke my almonds (that is, my snack food).

Then I was free put my stuff away, and wait for my plane. Oddly enough, nothing about me or my identical travel contents (minus some almonds) flagged security on the way home. And even though she'll take every bloody opportunity to tell me "I told you so", it's worth noting that H became righteously pissed off on my behalf. That was nice.

Two inches of TERROR!

West End Girls

H was a fab hostess and succeeded in keeping me entertained, even though it challenged her comfort limits to be out of the house and away from her computer so much. I think she's growing as a person, just not literally.

Friday was commerce-centric. Money was exchanged for many goods and services, and later, we refreshed ourselves with food and drink:

But it wasn't all about acquiring stuff. We hit the road on Saturday. Our first stop was a museum, where we "celebrated the long history and spectacular diversity of life, from the tiniest grains of pollen to the mightiest dinosaur". Hell yeah!


After enriching ourselves and dodging excitable children, we relaxed and ate pickles. Seriously.


We scampered into the badlands, climbed moderate slopes and tried not to fall. We were obviously pleased with ourselves:


Then it was back to the car, where we spent the next couple of days subsisting on snack foods and driving from town to town, stopping at various natural wonders along the way:

We truly did cover the spectrum of nature. And I even got to drive, after a refresher course in defensive techniques:


As expected, there was only one instance of violence. There was no permanent damage and after some talks, we forgot all our troubles with a big bowl of strawberry ice cream.


Merci, H!

Oh, and the security story is lame, but it still pisses me off. I'll tell it tomorrow.

Au Revoir, M!

I must say, M's visit was absolutely splendidly and mostly went according to the plans I had others make. Of course, there were a few minor snags, but whatev.

First, although I believe the rule is lame and stupid and controlling, I specifically warned M in her last post NOT TO BRING LIQUID on the plane. But perhaps my saying that it is the "first deadly sin" was ambiguous to her, because she had an altercation with big-word-using security personnel at our country's largest airport. M will tell you this story in her own words.

At the really big mall we visited, M got upset because I wouldn't take her to see the roller coaster. When I couldn't find her after 10 minutes, I asked security to page a "curly blonde in a snit" and they said that someone fitting that description had just been by looking for a "short jerkass with a 'tude," and so we reunited.

We saw many sites, some of which were absolutely crawling with tourists and, worse, children tourists who were cartoonishly hyper, but all in all, I think M was impressed by some of our country's natural wonders. This graffiti we found sums up the trip nicely: You can feel the meaning, even if it is a little flawed.



(Thanks to whoever sprayed this. It made my fuken day!)

Wild Rose Country

Today's the day I leave work early, always a much anticipated event! But more importantly, I leave for five fun-filled days with my favourite* middle sister.

I know H has worked hard planning my visit; at least, she's made others work hard. I'm packing light and I have extra money in the bank, to get the most shopping satisfaction out of my trip. Beautiful scenery awaits me too. My camera is fully charged, with a fresh memory card. I'll do my best to be a respectful tourist.

Distractions are necessary. An important part of any travel plans is reading material**, preferably magazines, and the trashier the better. I expect to return home knowing the season's best nail polish, all about flawless hair and makeup, fall's fashion preview, the right jeans for my body, various amorous techniques and different horoscope interpretations. All that - and more - will be mine.

I've also thought ahead and packed some snacks - no liquids! - to avoid the need for a questionable airline sandwich.

But the very best part? H will finally quit whining about "promises".


* Technically, my only middle sister.
** In-flight movies aren't always guaranteed or watchable.

A Promise Kept... Finally!

Our one reader might remember that a couple of months ago, M and I had a major conflict. Basically, she promised that she would come and visit me, but then reneged on that promise, something about being unable to afford it due to mortgage payments or some unnecessary expense like that. (And then I noticed that she had some new South Park memorabilia, so I know where her money goes. Maybe I can't blame her for that.) Lame.

However, I'm pleased (and somewhat apprehensive, and a little tired) to tell you that M has finally made good on that promise. On Thursday night, she will be coming for a short trip to my current part of the country. Oh, the plans I have made! We're going to cover the spectrum from desert to mountain. And go to a really giant mall. M loves malls, whereas I believe I am allergic.

So here is a sample of our first destination. That's me in the centre of the picture. Before any Halfpint jokes get flung around, check out my disclaimer.