Today we set out to the dinosaur mecca of Drumheller for some bone work. The Royal Tyrell was fantastic, and we were all set to go on a guided hike when I was rejected at the 11th hour owing to the impracticality of my pretty summer sandals. We all got our money back and went to the hoodoos instead, where me and my improper footware scrambled up and down the stone bluffs. I kept thinking of my highschool geography teacher, and how disapproving he would be of me and my ridiculous shoes sliding around on the talus. “Good way to turn an ankle.” Still, his long-ago teachings allowed me to distract myself on the way down by trying to recall relevant geologic terminology. That part of my brain is pretty dusty, so the long hike down was decently filled up.
My favourite part if today’s museum experience was the exhibit on cerasaurians. I could imagine the herds of herbivores, chewing placidly under sharp horns. The combo of the decorative frill and big horns reminded me of so many sartorial ideas from my goth club days. Priscilla, Queen of Jurassic Park.
I also enjoyed the awesome T. Rex skeletons. When I was a child, T. Rexes were posed upright, awkwardly holding their small forearms as if embarrassed to be late for a dinner party. Now they pace low to the ground, big fierce jaws at the ready to snap me up like an hors d’oeuvre. Brr.
Blake is still doing well, with the occasional plunge into atrocious behaviour. All 4 year olds are possessed by Satan, and His Satanic Majesty likes to come out at fancy restaurants. Why is it that the angels only come out right before a nap?