Tuscany Parents Are the New Fanatics

Sometimes I marvel at how much parenting has changed since I was a kid. So many of the people in my neighbourhood appear to be way more intense then my parents ever were. Today, I saw something to do with this that really made me laugh.

I was driving my brother to a friends house where he's staying for the week while my parents are in Europe. On our way there we passed the Tuscany Elementary School, a hot spot in this neighbourhood. I never like to drive past there at 8 am or 3 pm cause it moves so slowly.

You can imagine my surprise when the area was busy at ten to seven. My brother and I drove past, staring at the parents and children running every which way on the school's front yard. Was there some kind of school barbeque? No, they weren't eating. They were all just standing around.

As we turned the corner around the school, we realized these parents were lined up, waiting to go in the front door of the school. Was Tuscany Elementary selling Metallica tickets or something?

On the way home, my curiosity really got the better of me. I pulled over and asked the nearest parent what was going on. His answer surprised me;

"It's parent-teacher interviews tonight."

The were lining up around the block, basically camping out in front of the school to talk to their children's elementary teachers. Now I have stood in ridiculous, camping out line before. But that was for Lululemon, not talking to a teacher.

Who knew children's education could become such a passionate hobby?

The Motorcycles Are Out!

I think I'm way too urban, but I guess that comes with living your whole life in the city.

The weather has been beautiful in Calgary. At least, this week. Unlike last week when it was snowing most every night, right now it's sunny and gorgeous outside, the birds are singing, the grass is visible (although it's that lovely shade of brown) and it looks like spring is on the way... for now.

I remember when I was a kid, and my family used to go walking along the bluffs over the Bow River. My mom would always get so excited when April, May or sometimes June would hit, and she'd walk down the bluffs to discover the crocuses were out. In fact I remember one of my sisters coming home once and announcing that piece of news to the entire family. We may have gone out to look at them right away.

Now I am grown and somewhat mature, but I still get giddy at the idea of spring. Yesterday, when I was leaving school, I was getting especially excited. I'd had a great day, things were looking up, and I was fairly dancing as I walked out to my car with Adrianna. Then, as we reached my parking lot in outer Mongolia, I exclaimed;

"The motorcycles are out!"

Adi just looked at me. Which is really unfair because she has known me since I was five, and should know that I frequently say completely ridiculous things.

Still, it's very sad that I have transgressed from little purple flowers to guys wrecking havoc in the Mount Royal parking lot as a sign of spring.

Our Chicken Pot Pie Belongs in the Guggenheim

I should have known after the incredible success of our first cooking adventure that it was too good to be true. Nevertheless, when Adi and I had our second cooking night two weeks ago, I was again expecting perfection.

Oh how little I have learned.

For our next cooking night, Adrianna and I made chicken pot pie. The recipe suggested using pre-made pie crust, and though we originally thought we'd just make our own, by the time we go to the day of, we were both so tired that we just figured we'd go buy some. 

So we bought a box of Tenderflake ready-made pie crust, and took it home, ready to try our culinary skills again and prove how naturally awesome we are. Then we opened the box of pie crust.

First of all, it was frozen, second, it was in squares. Nice little cubes about the size of your palm. We picked up these cubes and turned them this way and that wondering what to do with them. It was a square. Wasn't it supposed to be in sheets? Or something? That's the way I'd always seen this ready-made stuff. The recipe we were using suggested using a ready-made lattice top and baking it before cooking it on the pie. What were we to do with ready-made cubes?

Looking back, it sounds even more stupid, but after much deliberation, we decided we'd cut up the cubes and arrange the strips in a lattice top. Adi got the lovely job of arranging the short little strips of  pastry while I made the filling. Our lattice didn't look like a lattice, but the pieces were so short we figured it wasn't worth the effort to do a real one.

Then we poured the filling into the casserole dish and waited for the top to finish baking. Everything was still going smoothly, and we'd have a lovely chicken pie like the one in the picture, right?

RIGHT???

Wrong.

First of all, that silly pastry dough wouldn't cook, it just got kind of oily and gross looking. Second of all, the dough was of course quite flaky, and the different layers just sort of spread out while it was cooking. We took it out of the oven and tried to arrange it on our pie, but it was just a mishmash of flaky dough thrown on top of chicken and carrots.

When completed, our chicken pot pie in no way resembled the picturesque pie in the cookbook, but some bizarre form of modern art, like you'd see at the Guggenheim.

Only then did we looked at the Tenderflake box, and saw the instructions: "Roll out defrosted pastry dough before cooking."

I don't know if any other cooks out there are as stupid as me, but when you're making chicken pot pie, just make your own dough. If you're like me, it's easier.

?'s Are Awesome

So if you read my previous post, ?'s Are Curvy, you will be interested to know that I got the internship with WHERE Calgary. They offered me the job today, and I start on May 4.

On that note, I really have to say I'm impressed with the diligence of Mount Royal's Career Services. I was at the gym when Where called to offer me the job, and seeing as working out is one of the only activities where it is still acceptable to not have your phone, they left a message. My career advisor, Chad, got wind of the fact that they were trying to contact me, and sent me another message as well as a frantic e-mail telling me to call the Where people ASAP.The poor guy has to find placements for 30 some students in a recession, so he can get a little intense, but you have to give Chad credit for doing a very difficult job.

And yes, for those of you who may get asked what your favourite punctuation mark is, the correct answer, is a question mark.

The End of the World As We Know It

My older sisters are constantly reminding me about how lax Mom and Dad have gotten with me and my brother since when they were living at home. I have to admit they're right. I remember when they were teenagers and I was a kid, and they had a lot more rules then Peter and I do.

Mostly, my parents have gotten more relaxed about the amount of media in our house. When I was little we had no channels, played no video games, and didn't really use the internet. And considering the fact that we went to Waldorf school, it was interesting enough that we had a tv. I remember being excited when we got one with a remote.

A few years ago, by brother rented a game cube, and instantly fell in love with pressing buttons and pretending he was a car racer/warrior/all star basketball player. Seeing it as a good incentive, my mother told him that if he practiced his piano for a certain amount of hours each month, he could rent one again at the end.

My dad saw a way to make this venture cheaper. Why didn't we buy a game cube and just take it out at the end of each month? Yes, that was an excellent notion, and the cube would only be out at the end of each month. Right?

My brother is a mastermind. The game cube remained out. The piano was forgotten and eventually quit.

So when Nintendo came out with the Wii, my brother was prepared. Our house became riddled with comments like; "Oh, but you move around. It's video games with exercise. Jason has one (my brother-in-law)."

That Christmas, we got a Wii. My sisters were all shocked and appalled. At least until they made their own Mii's and played some tennis. I might also add that I often see my brother playing his "exercising video games" from the couch. Although that's a bit harsh. He does, after all, play some kind of sport in every season.

Last week, I came home from school. My mother was in the kitchen. She looked up from whatever she was doing at the table and said these fatal words;

"Elena, we're getting cable. The guy's coming to install it next Thursday."

(I'm busy looking in the fridge) "That's nice Mom, did you know that the 12 year old who killed her family in Medicine Hat only got six years? (What she says finally hits me)

WHAT????????????????

"We're getting cable, honey."

"Who are you? And what have you done with my mother?"

"We thought we'd give it a try. Your brother and dad can watch their sports games, I can watch the history channel, and you can finally watch the news. But it's only a trial, if you and Peter don't moderate how much you watch, it's gone."

So now here we are. My brother and his friends are watching March Madness and will be for the next several days. My parents, the people who raised me with the idea that tv is evil and rots your brain and couldn't I just read a book or go outside, have got cable.

It truly is the end of the world as I know it. The world has ceased to make sense.

Jim and Karyn Redd got cable.

The Alpha Auntie

You probably know that I'm an aunt several times over. If you didn't, well I have one niece and five and half nephews. I call them my ibbi because there is no word in English for nieces and nephews, so we made one up. At the time we invented it, ibbi spelled out the first initials of all our sister's children's names. We would keep adding to it, but then it would eventually just be gibberish.

This is one of my nephews, Isaac. He's the only ibbi who lives in Calgary, so he's the one I see the most often, and the one who got to model for a lot of my photography assignments. The above photo was actually my final photo for the angle of view assignment.

Anyway, this past Saturday, I went to my sister Emily's (Isaac's mom) to do some work for my kitchen gadget story. Isaac was having his quiet time when I got there, so I remained out of sight for the first little while to prevent him from getting too excited and not getting any rest at all. When he finally came downstairs, I experienced one of those moments in life when you feel so totally awesome. He squealed, ran right for me and called out, "Auntie!" and gave me a big hug. Then he preceded to go jumping around the kitchen gibbering about his trains.

After boosting my ego, Isaac went running into the living room where his dad, Shaun, was. Still bouncing, he announced;

"Daddy, Auntie's here!"

Shaun (who of course, already knew I was there) responded with, "Which auntie, Isaac? Is it Aunt April? Aunt Jaima?"

Isaac looks at his dad for a minute and then says quite seriously, "No. Just Auntie."

I guess I have no name. I'm just the generic aunt.

Though, as Emily pointed out, I'm the aunt he sees the most often, plus I'm the unmarried one who is not in Finland. So really, I'm the Alpha Auntie.

Score! I will now go check off "Become favourite auntie" from my to do list. It's been there for seven years.

The Dog-Eared Pages Are Not So Utterly Illuminating

My friend Holly recently started a book club called the Dog-Eared Pages. Our first meeting was on Wednesday night, and The Last Lecture was the first book we read. I would recommend it to anyone.

But my opinion of The Last Lecture is not the purpose of this blog. Although, that would be a very good blog if everyone hadn't already done it.

The thing that surprised me most about the Dog-Eared Pages is that almost everyone finished the book. I've heard things about book clubs, and one common cliche is that people join book clubs, and then never read the books.

Granted, The Last Lecture is a very short book, so it was easy. I'll be interested to see what happens next month, when we discuss Les Miserables. Abridged of course.

I think I get most of my misconceptions about book clubs from The Vinyl Cafe, this radio show on CBC that I really like. If you haven't ever listened to it, you should. The Vinyl Cafe tells stories of a fictional family of four; Dave, Morley, Stephanie, and Sam. One story tells of when Morley (the mom) joins a book club. She works hard and stresses about finishing the book on time, and then gets to the meeting and realizes that no one's read the book. But, everyone else tries to pretend that they have read it and are in fact very intellectual, saying things like, "This book was utterly illuminating." 

What utterly illuminating is supposed to mean, I have no idea, but I'm glad that for now, the Dog-Eared Pages do not have to pretend that they know what they're talking about.