Arts


The Theatre of Humanities at University of Waterloo’s Hagey Hall was the place to be last night as author Christopher Hitchens debated Professor Barry Brummett on the topic of Religion as a positive force in culture. Tickets for this event, in honour of the 50th anniversary of the English department, sold out in a few days, just from the email sent to students and alumni.

About a week before, we found out that Christopher Hitchens’ health would prevent him from attending in person, so he would only be on video. Refunds were therefore offered for those who wanted it, and I’m sure that moved some people from wait list into attendance, but it remained a sold-out event. They even set up an overflow room for people to be able to watch everything on video.

Q’s Jian Ghomeshi was the host. He’s an engaging presence himself, and did a good job of trying to get clarifications of certain points made by each man, and of managing the audience questions.

Both Hitchens and Brummet were very interesting to listen to, though both Robin and I felt the deliberate effort in having to “adjust our brains” to take in the flow of big ideas coming toward us. Once engaged, though, it was pretty easy to stay with that flow. Hitchens had some very funny lines, and some quite profound ideas. He admitted that religion had been behind some great works of art, but pointed out that these were often combined with atrocities. And that there was no real knowing how religious artists of the past really were, since they were not allowed to admit to doubt. Brummet had some provocative comments of his own, like the idea that capitalist ideals may overtake religious ones as a primary cultural force, but mainly argued for rhetorical training as a means for combating religious extremism.

Fundamentally, I don’t think these two gentlemen truly disagreed with each other, so I’m not sure how much this was really a “debate”. Brummett never really said whether he was an atheist or not, but it was clear he was no big fan of organized religion. He just said that people had a tendency to want certainty, to have something greater make the decisions for them, and a need for spirituality. This could lead to dangerous religious extremism unless people learned to think critically.

Hitchens was less interested in how people could avoid the lure of giving themselves over to religious faith; only that they must. He talked about the wonders of the natural sciences, of the cosmos, advanced physics, blacks holes… How could a burning bush compete with any of that?

So mainly, we were just being intellectually entertained on both sides, though clearly Hitchens was the star attraction. He looked and sounded good, considering his state of health (stage 4 esophageal cancer). At one point Ghomeshi suggested they take two more audience questions before wrapping up, but Hitchens requested more. “I don’t really have any other plans for tonight,” he said. So the event took a good two hours in all.

There’s no way I can properly recap the evening, religion and culture both being very large areas, resulting in a wide-ranging discussion. But if you want a sense in 140 characters or less, the Twitter hash tag is #uwdebate.

The recent calendar has been a little busy, starting with a surprise party for Jean last Friday (at Verses), and a Valentine’s Dance on Saturday (at which we received some nice comments on our dancing, actually), and ending with another Verses dinner this Saturday, with a dance class and practice night fit in there as well.

And we also attended…

Moulin Rouge: The Ballet

The first ballet we’ve been to since, I think, the Ballet Béjart tribute to Freddie Mercury, quite a few years ago, in Montreal.

This one featured the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, and took place in our home town concert hall. It was inspired by the Bahz Luhrmann movie, but didn’t imitate it so closely as to get into copyright trouble. So though it is still a love triangle between a woman who works at the Moulin Rouge, an impoverished artist, and a more powerful man, they aren’t the same characters as in the movie. We still get a tango scene, and green fairy scene, but not at the same points, nor for the same reasons, as in the movie.

No matter. The plot isn’t the point in a ballet; it’s just window dressing for the dancing. And that setting and themes made for some really lively dancing. It particularly came to life, of course, with the extended can-can scene inside the Moulin Rouge. That part begun with an unfortunate flub, in which one dancer was nearly dropped, but otherwise the dancing was nothing but impressive. (Not that I’m any expert.) I wasn’t sure what Jean thought of the whole thing, but he assured me he found it enjoyable—even though he knows this may mean has had to attend another ballet in another 10 years or so.

And Friday, we had tickets to Symphony in Space.

Space image

This was a KW Symphony Pops concert intended to feature music with a astrological theme. So there was some Star Wars music, some Star Trek music, and some things you wouldn’t expect, like Bach’s Bradenburg Concerto, which apparently is out there on a space capsule somewhere, searching for intelligent life.

I’ve never seen conductor John Morris Russell before, but man, what an enthusiastic, lively personality he is. Along with being interested in science as well as music, he’s quite passionate about education, so the show also featured some young performers. The most adorable thing was seeing all these tiny violin players trot out to join the symphony in Suzuki’s “Variations on Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”. Brought back memories of my own violin-playing days. But these kids were much better.

The second half was hosted by an astronaut, Bjarni Tryggvason, who guided us through the planets of our solar system as the symphony played excerpts from Holst: The Planets and a bit of Mozart (Jupiter). This part was also accompanied by these gorgeous NASA photos of the various planets. It was really hard to get bored during this concert.

The conclusion featured the Eastwood Collegiate Concert Choir accompanying soloist AJ Bridel on “Defying Gravity” from Wicked. Man, does that girl have chops. Remember that name: She might be someone someday.

All in all it was one of the most enjoyable symphony performances of the season. Well worth making time for!

The Globe and Mail has spent a fortune redesigning itself—again. And certainly, I have no problem with the smaller page size, the increased colour, the glossy pages. But the content…?

The rumor was that, in trying to attract a younger audience (or something), there would be more “fluff”. But really, I find it’s in the “fluff” — the arts, the life stuff — that have been downsized the most.

The 7-day TV listings on Friday I used to program the PVR to? Gone.

Rick Salutin’s always interesting Friday column? Gone.

Tabitha Southby’s often hilarious Saturday column? Gone.

Movie reviews? Greatly reduce. Book reviews? Ditto.

The Style section, which I used to generally love its seemingly being aimed primarily at rich Torontonians, is barely worth looking at anymore. Pictures of expensive clothes. Repeats of the Style emails I already get. Russell Smith’s column reduced to a paragraph. Wine reviews now in list format, with rating numbers. So easy to scan–I sometimes miss it completely!

I’m starting to feel like I should be getting a discount, I’m getting so much less that actually seems worth reading. For the first time in many years, I’m actually think of cancelling my subscription.

Thursday I went to see Joseph Boyden talk about his new book, his first non-fiction effort, Louis Riel & Gabriel Dumont. I was flying solo, but not because Jean wasn’t interested. Boyden is perhaps Jean’s favorite novelist, and being Métis himself, he’s also interested in the Riel story. But weirdly, Jean was busy listening to another author that night—Kevin Callan, who writes humorous non-fiction about canoeing and other outdoor activities.

I have to admit that one of the main things I was wondering about Boyden is whether he looks as good in person as he does in his author. From my second-row seat, it quickly became apparent that, yes he does. The shock of black hair, the great smile with the gleaming white teeth, the compact body, the cool leaf tatoos on his forearms… It all adds up to someone perfectly fun to spend an hour looking at.

Fortunately, though, he was also quite interesting to listen to. He explained how he’d found it very difficult to get this book completed. Having to stick to facts (instead of the “lies of fiction”), trying to cover the lives of two men in a mere 45,000 words, were huge challenges. It took him about 3 years to complete the book.

Of course, he did learn a lot about the two men. He pointed out that Riel was not fighting just for the rights of the Métis, but of all the settlers on the land the railroad was to come through, whether Native, white, or Métis. And when McDonald sent in the troops, he says it was Riel’s refusal to follow Dumont’s advice and engage in guerilla warfare that doomed them. He was very moved by reading the transcript of Riel’s trial, where Riel was fighting not only the charges against, but also his defense team, who were arguing that he was insane.

During the Q&A, we learned a bit more about Boyden himself. He says his interest in Canadian history likely comes from having an elderly father, born in 1898. (His father died when Boyden was 8.) This set many of us off trying to do that math in our heads… And he thinks that his ability to write from a woman’s perspective (as in Through Black Spruce) was helped by having seven older sisters, who frequently dressed him up as a doll. And he’s currently working on two novels, one a continuation of the Three Mile Road / Through Black Spruce series, and another centered around the Jesuits arrival in Canada.

In general, he came across as quite charming and pretty funny, particularly for one whose books are a little dark.

Afterward, I stood in the line to get my books signed: Through Black Spruce, which I had before, and the Riel and Dumont one that I bought on the day. Fortunately I had something to say other than what seemed to be overly obvious, that being that I’m a fan of his writing. “I think you know my mother,” I said. Because, you see, they’d previously worked together at Northern College in Timmins. It can be a small world.

I was pleased–and, I admit, a little surprise–to read that Edwin Outwater, the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony’s young, hunky, charismatic, and talented conductor has renewed his contract through to 2015. I thought he would be lured away.

Not sure if I ever got around to mentioning how blown away we were by the Symphony’s Carmina Burana last year (the season closer). Never mind Tommy; that was the real original rock opera. It’s only disguised as classical music. But really, it’s all sex and drugs and debauchery… It’s rock’n'roll, baby.

This year’s Pops lineup looked so appealing we’ve signed up for all 8 shows, despite the sticker shock of buying that many tickets at once (good seats, of course). This Friday begins with a reprise of one my favorites from the past: Cirque de la Symphonie. It’s the closest we get to Cirque du soleil in this town.

Tons of TV shows seem to be starting this week as well, even before all the summer favorites (Mad Men, So You Think You Can Dance Canada) are done. Not sure there’s room in the schedule for any new shows. I’m rarely very good at picking out the new shows that will last, anyway, so perhaps it’s best not to even start until it’s clearer who the survivors will be.

It’s even back to school time for me, as our ballroom dance classes commence the last week of September.

So many leisure activities to fit in. I get mildly stressed thinking about it, which seems sort of backward.

OK, this was cool.

My current favorite band (at least in subcategory: Best years are not decades behind them), Arcade Fire, has this interactive video on their website for the great song, “We Used to Wait”.

You enter the street address of one of your childhood homes and images from that place get integrated into the video. I was skeptical that the fairly obscure Timmins street where my parents live would be included, but about four characters in, it came up as an option.

The multi-window resulting video was really neat, especially on the big monitor I have at home.

Requires the Google Chrome browser.

Then you can try out your the address of your choice at http://www.thewildernessdowntown.com/

Another thing I like is having Good Seats when I go to any kind of live performance. It’s to the point where I will avoid going completely if I Good Seats aren’t available—or are outrageously priced. Because I’ve tried, and I just know that being too far from the stage really does diminish my enjoyment.

Hence it was that we ended up at a performance of Norman last night.

Norman was playing locally as part of the Magnetic North theatre festival. I had never heard of this festival before, but apparently it’s been running for a number of years now. Every other year it goes to a new Canadian city; otherwise, it’s put on in Ottawa. This year is Kitchener-Waterloo’s turn.

When I heard about it, it sounded like something interesting and that I wanted to support. I was especially excited that Rick Mercer was doing a show as part of the festival. But when I finally remembered to try to get tickets for Rick’s show, the seats just weren’t that Good. Row M, kind of off to the side. It was dimming my enthusiasm.

So I looked through the program for what else might work, and Norman sounded interesting:

Most of us grew up with the work of Norman McLaren. Between slick Saturday morning cartoons or on clunky classroom projectors, McLaren’s mesmerizing work slid unexpectedly into the lives of generations of Canadians.

In the internationally acclaimed Norman, ground-breaking projection technology allows a performer to physically interact with the cinematic universe of award-winning Canadian film pioneer Norman McLaren. Join us as they delve into the vaults of Canada’s National Film Board to combine technology, animation and theatre in an unforgettable visual experience.

Seats were not actually being assigned for this, which made me think they weren’t expecting a big crowd. Smaller crowds always greatly enhance your chance of Good Seats. So I got tickets for that.

The performance was at 7:00. We arrived around 6:35 to find the Centre in the Square looking eerily empty, with maybe 10 other people there at that point? So yeah, no problem getting Good Seats!

As the performance approached, fortunately, more people showed. The crowd was still one of the smallest I’ve seen at the Centre, but at least had swelled to filled all the best seats in the house (though all the bad ones were empty).

I wasn’t terribly clear on what we were about to see, Jean even less so—he had no idea who Norman McLaren was, and had been telling people he was going to something called Daniel that night. After a short announcement, which concluded with the reminder to turn off your cell phones, the lights dimmed, all went quiet, and…

Someone’s cell phone started ringing. Couldn’t believe it!

That is, until I realized that this was part of the show. The single performer, dancer Peter Trosztmer, talked on the phone on his way to the stage, then addressed us about his obsession with Norman McLaren.

The 90 minutes that followed are really hard to describe, but were completely riveting. Peter would talk about McLaren, show parts of his films, but also interact with them in dance movements. He would dance between the intersecting lines. He would bat away the assembling and dissembling balls. He pulled away Norman’s chair in the well-known Chairy Tale, then interacted with his own. He became one of the dancers in the beautiful Pas de Deux.

I don’t know how they did it all, but it was absolutely brilliant.

Intersected with these film/dance pieces were documentary bits, in which holographic images of various people who worked with McLaren spoke about him. Also shown were some interviews with McLaren himself. It all gave me a much deeper appreciation of McLaren’s genius, particularly his skill at making music visual. It makes me want to go watch a bunch of his movies—which, fortunately, the NFB makes easy to do. (And isn’t it fabulous that staid old Canada funds a film board where an eccentric genius can spend a lifetime producing abstract short films?)

Much as I was taken with the whole thing, I wasn’t sure how Jean would react, but I needn’t have worried. Though he opined that it could perhaps have been a tad shorter, overall, he was in awe. He loved it.

So thanks to all you people who quickly snapped up the Good Mercer Seats, thus leading me to one of most intriguing live performances I’ve ever seen.

(Waterloo Region Record review of Norman)

I can’t say I was never a big Elvis fan.

Back in Grade 3, my teacher was a nun. (Separate school system, natch.) Over lunch, she’d play music. Some French stuff (it was also a French school). Some religious stuff. And an Elvis album.

Now, Elvis (I’ve since learned) has done a lot of gospel, but that’s not what she played. She played his rock’n'roll stuff. I didn’t find it odd at the time, but thinking back on it now, it does seem a bit odd. But says something about his mass appeal.

Anyway, of all the music she played, this was the only bit I really cottoned to. I liked me some Elvis. I started bugging my parents to get me one of his albums. Eventually they did—one of the greatest hits things, I guess. I would play it, studiously looking over the cover art, the song list.

But not that long after, I moved on to my next musical love, the Bay City Rollers. (Eight-year-olds are so flighty.) And I never really got back to Elvis. I did and do appreciate that he’s a very influential figure in music history. I watched Jonathan Rhys in the really good Elvis miniseries, and thought that was a very poignant story. But I don’t really listen to him much, and can’t really call myself a fan.

So I had no particular expectations walking into the latest Electric Thursdays concert, Elvis: The Way It Was. But the few I had were immediately shattered when the band walked out to join the KW Symphony. Hey, where’s Peter Brennan? Where’s the Jean’s'Classics band?

Turns out that this was to be the first-ever Electric Thursdays concert to not be scored by Brennan. Instead, conductor Daniel Warren took the honours. In fact, the whole thing was his idea.

Stephen Kabakos in Elvis leatherThe part of “Elvis” was played Stephen Kabakos. In look and sound, he was a reasonable facsimile of “The King.” But he didn’t pretend to be Elvis, instead referring to himself as Stephen, just playing tribute to his favorite singer.

The show was structured according various famous Elvis appearances. The Hawaii concert. The movies. The Ed Sullivan Show. Vegas. The comeback show in ’68 (hey, I remember that one from the Jonathan Rhys movie!). This required a certain number of costume changes, and you could definitely feel the energy drop when Kabakos wasn’t on stage. But it was fun to get kind of a “tour” of his career highlights.

The sound mix was a bit dodgy at first—we couldn’t hear the backup singers at all, and could just barely hear “Elvis”, but fortunately that was quickly resolved. I can’t really comment on the quality of the orchestration, as it really felt like it was taking a backseat to the whole Elvis show most of the time. But certainly the arrangement of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” stood out as particularly beautiful and effective.

Kabakos was in good voice, and was charismatic and funny. “Know why Elvis walked the way he did? To get the hair bounce just right,” he said, demonstrating a “normal” walk with no bounce, and the Elvis swagger, with bounce.

“Why do I always end up sitting in front of a guy?” He asked, during the “sit down at the edge of the stage and sing right into the audience” portion of “Love Me Tender”.

“The men are always dragged kicking and screaming to an Elvis show. The women are like, ‘We’re going to be late’! But guys… The suits are available for rent. Totally worth it.”

To an audience shout that he “take it off” when he commented that the leather outfit was very warm, “You have no idea how long it took to put it on!”

All in all, a fun night out, and a worthy tribute.

The KW Symphony’s latest Intersections concert, Bon appétit, was on the theme of music and food. It was one of the most enjoyable concerts I’ve ever been to.

Held at the small Conrad Centre for the Performing Arts instead of Centre in the Square, acoustics were sacrified but intimacy was gained. It proved a good trade-off.

Principle conductor Edwin Outwater introduced the evening by outlining a fact he’d only recently learned, which is that symphonies first came together as a way of accompanying large feasts in the 15th century. Then he read some of the items served at these feasts (didn’t sound too bad), along with the instruments combined to accompany each course.

Then the Symphony played their first number, Raymond Scott’s “Dinner Music for a Pack of Hungry Cannibals.” (Not the KW Symphony, but here’s a YouTube link.) A lot of Raymond Scott’s music is used in cartoons; this was one lively and fun work.

Up next, Natalie Benninger of Nick and Nate’s Uptown 21 restaurant was introduced, as Edwin explained there would actually be food as part of this concert. (We were also allowed to bring wine to our seats.) She introduced the next piece, the lyrical “Pastorale” from the film Babette’s Feast, the soundtrack to the big meal in the film. It was lovely, but I have to admit to being distracted by the appetizer being distributed while it was being played. And to the fact that Jean and I didn’t get any.  It was apparently a salad of endive and blue cheese from the film, and quite delicious. (I suppose I should add that it wasn’t only Jean and I who didn’t get any. For whatever reason, there seemed to be enough for only about half the audience.)

At some point—maybe here—we also did a video link up to Nick, toiling away back at the restaurant. In his first appearance, he talked about the type of restaurant it was, and the focus on local foods and changing menus. And then the next piece played was Shostakovich’s “Tea for Two”, a variation on that tune that he wrote on a dare. It was a lot of fun. (Look, you can hear that one on YouTube also.)

Nick appeared again, commenting that he was more of a Rolling Stones guy than a classical music fan, but he did appreciate this particular concert. Then he asked Edwin about food, to which Edwin expressed appreciation for Italian and Japanese cuisine, and his sense that chicken was a highly overrated food item.

The final piece of the first half was by a living Canadian composer, John Estacio. It was one movement from the Farmer’s Symphony, called “The Harvest.” It was quite grand, and was served with an appetizer of cornmeal in a honey sauce. (For everyone, this time.)

Before we broke for intermission, John from Art Bar spoke about the wine he’d been drinking during the performance, which was a red blend from Southbrook Winery, and how different characteristics of the wine came to the forefront with the different styles of music. Edwin then asked concertmaster Stephen Sitarski what music would best accompany Pinot Noir. He thought a relaxing smooth jazz, whereas a Bordeaux would require something more intellectual.

At intermission, I bought a glass of the Southbrook red. (I’m highly suggestible.) It was quite nice.

Part 2 led off with Ralph Vaughn Williams’ “March Past of the Kitchen Utensils”, which somewhat sounded as titled. The next number, which featured mezzo soprano Megan Latham, was an orchestral version of the Cole Porter tune “The Tale of the Oyster,” arranged by Edwin Outwater himself. This was a hilarious little number about an oyster who longs for the high life—and finds it on a silver platter. (YouTube) And Latham has a beautiful voice and a very expressive manner.

Nick then introduced a video of a competition between himself and Latham, as to who could make the best version of Julia Child’s Gateau au Chocolat. Quite amusing (and no winner declared). We then moved into Lee Holby’s Bon Appetit, which is an episode of Julia Child’s program, in which she makes that Gateau, set to music. You can definitely picture Child as the piece proceeds. And most happily, we didn’t have to imagine how the gateau tasted, because we all got a piece. It was one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.

And, they gave us the recipe in the concert program. I think I might try it. Heck, it’s only 6 oz butter. Practically diet food, for Julia Child.

Anyway. The last piece was a real change of pace, an adaptation of 60’s band Strawberry Alarm Clock’s “Incense and Peppermints.” Though orchestral, it was very much in tune with the psychedelic original, complete with phase-shifting vocal (in technical terms, Latham used this gizmo to make her voice echo and layer). One the last verse, Edwin joined in the singing as well. And then he thanked us for “coming out for something we’ve never done before, and that I’ve never even heard of before.”

Though the joke was that the near-capacity crowd would then all head to the 54-seat Nick and Nate’s for a nightcap, we just headed home at that point. But we were smiling all the way.

OK, so instead of owning the podium, we just rented the top floor.

(I have to give a CP reporter the credit for that quote.) Wasn’t that fun? The Olympic withdrawal is going to be tough. It’s been the framing device around all events for the past two weeks. Furthermore, that’s been true of almost everyone else. What else does that anymore? Not the Oscars, not the series finale of Lost, not the Superbowl, not even the Stanley Cup.

Big eating weekend

I described last weekend (Feb. 19–21) as my “big eating weekend.” For the Friday, well ahead, we had arranged to meet up with friends at Verses. They were particularly pleased to have meat there. “We’re coming off a month of veganism,” they explained. “If you think vegetarianism is hard? Try veganism.”

Then on the following Saturday, our neighborhood association held a wine tasting dinner at Solé. Solé generally does an excellent job with these, and the featured wine was from Rosewood Estates, which we really like. So we had to sign up for that as well. We ended up sitting with the owner of the winery, who proved to be a very interesting guy, with rather strong opinions about wines of different price points, and the marketing strategies of various regions.

And it was a great meal. It started with their Sémillon, which I judged reminiscent of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, so was pleased when informed that’s what they were going for. It was delicious, as was the smoked trout served with it—amazing stuff, the food highlight of the meal. The main course was chicken with wild mushrooms, and it was served with a Meritage wine. (I was hoping to get their Pinot Noir again, but the 2007 is apparently all sold out.) Dessert featured honey wine, served with an apple caramel tart.

Olympic-wise, that was a pretty quiet weekend. That’s when there was all that grousing about Canada’s performance being somewhat disappointing, which I mostly found irritating. But since we don’t really know our neighbours (and besides the wine people, that’s who was there), it was very handy to have that to talk about.

Shall we dance?

Despite some moments of mild panic—me on the “hockey stick” step (seriously, that’s what it’s called) of the cha-cha, Jean on the intricate shaping of the slow fox—we’re fumbling our way reasonably well through our ballroom dance classes for people who had taken a seven-year break. This week’s class coincided with the Russia-Canada hockey quarter-final, but late arrivals reported on the already lopsided score involved there, and we stopped worrying about that too much.

But our dance instructor wanted to talk about another sport:

“Why did they win?” he asked. After some brilliant responses like, “cause they were good,” the issue of synchronicity came up. “That’s right!” he said. “They danced as though they were one.” Which is what we were all striving for. “And if you practice for 8 hours a day, for 12 years, maybe learn to skate… Who knows?”

That night I planned to finish watching the ladies’ short in figure skating, recorded the night before, but I got distracted by all those other medals by all those other Canadian ladies: gold and silver in bobsled. Silver in short track.

TEDx

The day after dance class, I attended a Waterloo-hosted a TEDx conference. TED stands for Technology, Entertainment, and Design, and the motto is “Ideas worth spreading.” In 21 minutes or less.

The event started by being delayed by technical difficulties. This is when I discovered that I was, apparently, the only person in the room whose iPod was not Touch and whose cell phone was not i.  That is, no portable Internet connectivity for me. So while everyone else tapped away around me, twittering about the delay and receiving updated ladies’ curling scores… I read a magazine. I mean, a dead-tree edition magazine.

There’s some message there somewhere, and I don’t really like it. But at least I didn’t have to worry about any batteries dying.

But once the conference got underway, it did feature some interesting speakers and ideas. Terry O’Reilly from CBC’s The Age of Persuasion on the underrated importance of friction in selling products. An exploration of living architecture (using materials that respond to human touch—a bit freaky). The director of of the documentary Prom Night in Mississippi, who also shared information about how meeting The Beatles played a role in his spiritual awakening. Caroline Disler on how much of “Western” civilization actually comes from the east. And a study of the ecology of restoration, using Sudbury as a model.

And back home, the very good women’s gold medal hockey game! And the equally tough, in their own way, women of figure skating singles. Yu-na Kim perfection, a woman who does triple axels better than many of the men, and Joannie Rochette, showing it’s about more than medals (though it is great she won one).

Timmins wedding

It’s my wedding year, I guess, as we traveled again for a wedding on the weekend, this time to Timmins. But we weren’t on call to do much the Friday night, so after spending some excrutiating time watching the women’s curling final, first with my family, then with Jean’s, we went out to bar with my brother and his wife to get away from sport a bit and listen to some music.

The young singer, Louis-Phillip Sébastien, was quite good. But he was also fighting a cold, so his set was short. Really short. So then the bar turned the TV on the men’s hockey game, which seemed to go pretty well. It was only after getting home we found out that they nearly lost it in the last few minutes.

The wedding on Saturday was lovely, and I think most people had a great time, with lots of dancing. I’m not sure what the attendance would have been had a major hockey game been scheduled that night, but people were content to merely zip into the bar on breaks and report that the men’s curling team were winning gold.

The invitation to the wedding has specified “black and white dress.” On first reading that, I assume that was some other way of saying “dress up nice,” and planned on wearing a fancy black and red dress. But, it turned out that they actually wanted people to dress in black and white. We found this out only late in the game, though, and at that point, I wasn’t too thrilled by the idea of going out to buy a new dress. I just threw in a white throw to cut the effect.

So in case you’re wondering… it is a bit odd being the only person wearing red in the room.

At least I was, until the red sock dance—a weird, franco-ontarian wedding tradition whereby any unmarried older sibling has to, well, dance in red socks. I have no idea why.

The opening of the wedding presents was on Sunday, about an hour before the Gold medal game. We overheard the first period there (knowing by the cheering that it was 1-0), watched the second with Jean’s Mom, and the third and overtime with my family. Scoring with 24 seconds left? Are you kidding me? And then Crosby again scored when it really counted.

While I really think hockey got too much emphasis overall, I must admit that was quite the capper.

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