If It Please the Court

 So we were in Edmonton to see my brother-in-law get sworn in to the King's Bench (the superior trial court of the Canadian province of Alberta, nooo I did not just Google that). We knew it was kind of a big deal, but wow, it was really a big deal. The swearing-in ceremony was in an actual courtroom, and while we were waiting for the whole thing to begin it did feel a bit like we should be preparing an alilbi. 

My brother-in-law is an extremely intelligent, witty, hilarious, well-spoken man who apparently also has a keen legal mind. He worked for a law firm and then was a constitutional law professor at the University of Alberta for years, and was often on the news as a public commentator on constitutional issues. This ceremony was the kind of thing most of us don't get until we're dead, which is kind of cool. There were speakers from the university and the province's law society as well as the freaking lieutenant governor of Alberta, and then Eric's own speech. This could have all gotten tedious, except everyone was very articulate and, as is appropriate for friends of Eric, very funny also.

Eric's speech probably should have been recorded. The two principal things I remember were "I always thought that if the Lieutenant Governor of Alberta, my childhood friend Neil, and my dear Aunt Kate were in a room together I would have been having some kind of weird dream", and "when I looked in the mirror and saw my hairline I realized it was telling me to dress for the job I want". 

It was a great excuse for a partial family reunion that didn't center around a funeral. Matt and I stayed at a hotel right in downtown Edmonton so we could walk to the courthouse, and the first day we went out for brunch and accidentally ended up at a place that was probably too hip for us (there was a family of mother, father, two little boys and a baby girl that should have been featured in some picturesque Families in Fall magazine spread) but the food was really good - I literally said the words "there is a little too much bacon on my breakfast sandwich". Then we walked by the art gallery and decided to go in since we had time before the ceremony. 

There was an exhibition called The Light Fantastic with a bunch of interactive installations that were SO cool. I was talking excitedly about it later in the day and then realized Matt's uncle the artist was there and felt slightly sheepish, and he looked at my face and said "art is supposed to be fun", which I appreciated.

 There was also an exhibit on art about sports, with interesting juxtapositions between older art and more modern pieces (including a giant athletic cup).

We finished just as my right leg started going numb, which is always the mark of a perfectly timed outing.

On the walk back to the hotel we saw a kid dressed as a lobster, whose waddle was very enjoyable.  

We stayed at a hotel with Matt's stepdad and had a few meals with him, which was lovely. We had one dinner at a The Sherlock Holmes Pub which we had walked by after brunch. There was live music, which worried me, but it was just two guys and it was the perfect volume where you could hear them but still converse, and they were really good. I sent a short video to our group WhatsApp that it felt weird to be in Edmonton (western Canada) at an English pub listening to Farewell to Nova Scotia (Eastern Canada). And then - THEN - they played The Log-Driver's Waltz! 

There was a dinner for a larger family group on the Saturday, and we all went over to Eric and Sarah's house on Saturday morning. I kept thinking, at the reception after the ceremony which was at a theatre, and at Eric and Sarah's house which I hadn't seen before, that I should take some pictures, which is my usual role. But there were a lot of people I didn't know, and it felt like it would have interrupted the flow, and I ended up not. Except then I had last-minute regret and took Everyone-Already-in-Their-Coat pictures after dinner. 

Then the next day we all went to the airport to fly home but it didn't take, and that brings the first week of NaBloPoMo almost full circle. 

Hoppin' Through the Forest

Okay, so a bunch of people got it. This was my exchange with my friend Suzie, who read the post before anyone else had commented. 

The way my babysitter taught it to me also said Little Rabbit Foo-Foo was hopping through the forest picking up the field mouse and 'shmucking' them on the head, not 'bopping', but I'm willing to accept that that was incorrect. 

Throwback Thursday: Halloween Edition

 Last year on the first day of November I posted about the festival of drunkenness and debauchery that was our friends' annual Halloween party. 

My costume was super lame this year. With the Spain trip followed closely by having family here for Thanksgiving and then my dad's health crisis (largely resolved now), I was not feeling it at all, and while in the past I have been able to scrape up something decent at the last minute, this time I failed utterly. Matt went through all of the Rubber Ducks stuff Angus left and made such a convincing MiLB coach Angus said he looked like he should be holding a beer and a hot dog. Oh wait....

Ha ha, get it?

Random pics of my kids decades ago that Facebook spit out in my memories, *sob*.

Random pics of costumes I liked at the party this year and actually photographed. 

Random pics of Tony doing unspeakable things with Alina's mouse.

Which brings me to this: Who gets this costume? I thought Eve would, and was sad when she didn't, but then it made perfect sense. I will reveal the answer tomorrow if no one gets it.

Random pics of the basket of reading glasses on the kitchen counter, which made Dave's teacher friend say exactly what I was thinking; "is this the new key party? 'okay, who has 2.75, you're coming home with me.'"

Fun Stuff in Spain Part III

 I know, I know, that was already a trip ago, but I worked and grocery shopped because there was zero food left in the house and took my parents for their flu shots and it was what everyone kept calling "a lovely summer day" but IT'S NOVEMBER, and I wore jeans, which I sorely regretted, and I need an easy post.

The reason I went to Spain was because it was our thirtieth anniversary during the trip, so a couple of months before, Matt said "I'm supposed to be at ECOC in Spain for our thirtieth wedding anniversary. So either I'm not going or you're coming to Spain." And I've always wanted to go to Spain, so I said I would go. 

Our actual anniversary was on Monday the 21st. It's a huge joke in our marriage that we never remember our anniversary - or rather, we know what it is but we always lose track of when it's actually September 21st. This is made both more and less understandable by the fact that for *counts on fingers* a lot of years we had kids that had just started school in September, and my parents' birthdays are the 20th and 23rd (I know, shut up). Once we were at a brunch on Matt's school reunion weekend and I was telling people how we always forget our anniversary and one woman said "what is it?" and I said "September 21st" and then said ".....it's totally September 21st, isn't it?" and she said "I wasn't going to say anything!" I dunno man, we are intelligent people who mostly manage to stumble through life intact, I don't know how.

The marketing manager for Matt's company is a very nice woman named Cheryl who was extremely concerned that Matt was going to screw up the anniversary thing. She arranged for flowers and champagne and heart-shaped pastries to be in the hotel room when I arrived. She had someone book us dinner for Monday night at a really nice restaurant on the Mediterranean. I am not overly concerned with this kind of thing at all, but it was very thoughtful. 

So we spent our anniversary one of my favourite ways - eating tiny colourful food by a big body of water. It was a tasting menu, and it was all very good - only one raw seafood dish, which isn't really my thing but Matt likes it. Unlike in some European countries, a lot of people in Spain don't speak English, which is fine with me - I found it really amusing when one girl in a shop kept yelling to another girl things like "how do you say 'grapefruit' in English?" in Spanish while trying to make my juice. The waiter really wanted to describe every dish in detail, and we got about sixty percent of it. 

It was especially funny when he got to the second last course and said "this one is easy. Mango sorbet. Is mango.... sorbet." 

The very last course was tiramisu, and I was full and the mango sorbet had been a perfect ending, so I told Matt I didn't really want the tiramisu. I had a feeling this might not go over well, since I had been watching other tables, and the chef making the tiramisu table-side was a bit like Rowan Atkinson in Love Actually wrapping Alan Rickman's sleazy gift for his mistress in a box and then a bag, with confetti, then an elaborately-curled ribbon, etc. etc. 

Matt asked if he could just have one tiramisu and the chef said dramatically "is one tiramisu.... two plates!" So I had some tiramisu. 

Unsure Exactly What I Was Thinking

 "I will get a less lame post up tomorrow" hahahahahaha no I will not, it's November, getting A POST up is the most I am going to commit to every day. Five paragraphs? Four lines? WHO CAN SAY.

Anyone wondering how many posts I can milk the whole 'Stranded in Edmonton" thing for? I know I am.

Throughout the whole experience I was very aware how things could have been very much worse for us. We were traveling business class, my husband is a super elite (obnoxious term) Air Canada million-miler, we didn't have kids or pets with us, and we were at the airport with Matt's aunt and her husband and his uncle and his wife, all of whom we adore and never get to see enough. We hung out at Boston Pizza for a bit, where the waitress kept apologizing for slow service while we were completely happy for things to drag out because there was almost nowhere left to sit in the airport as every damn flight was delayed but no damn flights were cancelled yet. Katherine and Kate and I wandered around and shopped a little and giggled at stupid things. Everyone would split off to their own gate for a bit and then come back together when it was obvious nothing was happening yet.

Our flights were all cancelled fairly close in time. We were prepared to take a shuttle to a Hilton, but then Air Canada texted Matt that they had booked us into a room at a hotel attached to the airport. We had not abandoned the others to hang out in the lounge all day, but we decided that our familial love did not extend to turning down this surprise benefit - everyone assured us they would do the same. My contacts were nearly welded to my eyeballs at this point, and my feet were tired and boiling. 

The hotel was sort of fancy, sort of funky, sort of weird. Matt went and had a martini and a snack at the bar while doing some work, but I just are a handful of peanuts, showered and went to bed with Dungeon Crawler Carl (that's a book). 

We just had to get up and walk out to check in to our flight the next day. As I said, I was so aware of our privileged situation, and tried really hard both days to be nice to both employees and fellow travelers. I didn't get mad when people stopped with their suitcases right in the middle of a thoroughfare and pulled out their phone. I waited patiently in long lines and thanked employees profusely. I walked slowly and was careful not to knock into luggage or children. 

We got into the Super Elite lineup at check-in, and we were the only ones in it. Beside us was the Priority Check-in line for those who are, you know, slightly less elite. As the agent beckoned us to come, the man at the head of the Priority line said "Excuse me!" loudly. He was in the wrong line and pissed about it. The agent said "who is super elite", which we were (royal we), but Matt beckoned for the man to go ahead because he didn't want to inflict him on the other people in his line or the check-in agent if he had to wait any longer. 

We were so close to the end of the whole ordeal. We were so much luckier than the people in the long lines. Be gracious, I told myself. Who knows what he's been dealing with? 

As he turned to go, he looked at Matt belligerently, and Matt said sarcastically "is it okay if I go now?" Instead of saying thank-you, the guy muttered "nice try dude". 

"Say 'have a nice day'" I thought. But somehow when I opened my mouth what came out was "You're FUCKING WELCOME."

Sorry, better angels. I tried. 

THE COOKIES

Okay okay, I knew it wasn't cool to leave the whole 'mystery of the cookie aroma' thing like that. Shortly after we texted, everyone else walked to our gate and declared that they absolutely could smell cookies baking. As I said, my allergies were terrible and Matt has a very dull sense of smell, but as soon as I stood up and walked two steps from my chair I could also smell the cookies. Was there an invisible border over which the cookie smell could not travel? Was it the power of suggestion? We will never know.

I didn't even end up eating the cookies on the way home. I had $40 of vouchers and I got two chai lattes, two tea biscuits and six cookies which added up to 39.01, which on the one hand is horrifying and on the other hand was quite satisfying. Then I carried the little box of cookies everywhere for the rest of the day. 

I just got the classic chocolate chunk rather than a variety, because there was a long line of people trying to use vouchers and I didn't want to take any longer than necessary (I was TRYING, you guys).

So... yeah. They're big-ass, soft, chocolate chunk cookies, of course they're fucking good, what big thing did I think I was going for here? No complaints, George.