Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Roadkill Kitten

After packing (a process that involved trying to cram way too many pairs of shoes in way too small a bag) and, for the last time this year, driving the 300 kilometer journey down the mind-numbingly boring, straighter-than-your-mom straight roads of Alberta, I was back in Edmonton.

I spent most of my weekend at the Fringe, wandering through the Farmer's Market with flowers in hand, gluttenously smelling wafts of mini-donuts and seriously considering a lifestyle of hawking shit to tourists at festivals world-wide. (Alex agrees this is a solid plan. While he sells spray-paintings, I plan on starting up "Revoluntianari-teas" or "Solidari-teas," a knock-off on the Solidari-tees booth I saw at the Fringe this weekend. As per suggested by Danny O'Leary and David Berry, popular teas would include "Chai Gueverra" and "Benito Mussolintea." This brilliant idea is trademarked, by the way, so don't try to steal it.)

Since Alex had Sunday off work, we headed down to the festival grounds, where soon after sitting down, he was voluntold to participate in one of the shows.

I was not impressed when the street performer chose to ride on a bicycle while juggling swords, thus possibly endangering my boyfriend's pretty face.

Making it off the stage alive, we decided that we should celebrate life by taking a day trip to Drumheller.

Except Alex decided to not only endanger his pretty face again, he also decided to endanger *my* life. "Do you want to climb to the top?" I asked him enthusiastically. "Not really," he told me, "but we can if you want to." "I want to." Alex's enthusiasm picked up though, when he spotted the trail.

"Look Jess, we can go up there," he said, pointing to a very steep nearly non-path up the side of the bluff, "and avoid all the tourists."

I was game. Until we started climbing that is. The sheer vertical incline combined with the loose muddy sand was terrifying, and the only reason I kept going up was because I couldn't safely climb down. I nearly gave up at one point, until some old guy at the bottom yelled, "Keep going!" and started taking pictures of our sheer insanity.

Alex Dodd: the face of a killer. (Granted, a pretty face at that.)

I moped in a cave for a bit.

After our hike (aka our impromptu death-defying climb) we drove to the Tyrell Museum and ate a picnic lunch of left-overs.

The museum was awesome, considering we had just watched a docu-series on the evolution of lizards to dinosaurs the night before, but I didn't take any pictures inside (since I was just there a year ago with Brie and Court on our cross-Alberta road-trip last April). However, this picture not only sums up our trip, but it's awesome for one key reason. (Anyone want to take a guess? And just for the record, this picture was taken before we went to the museum or wandered through the giftshop.)

And I only get to see this pretty face for about another 48 hours.

1 comment:

  1. Is it the matching shirts purchased on separate occasions? Is it? Is it?