I finally got a photo of Jim Cuddy, something I've wanted since I was about 7 years old. I will never grow up, certainly not for as long as all my idolized middle age guitarists keep rocking my world.

Canada Day 2011 was fantastic. Drinks in the physics department at work, getting to leave early to celebrate my country's birthday in Trafalgar Square. An all-out ball hockey tournament and partaking in a massive impromptu Flip Cup game in one of the sponsor tents. Drinking Trafalgar Square DRY of Canadian beer, which lead to the organizers panic-buying massive amounts of Red Stripe as a substitute. Red and white, cute.

Blue Rodeo was the perfect headliner for the concert. They played nearly half the 5 Days in July album on top of other classics, and closed the show with Lost Together, which was even more fitting than usual.

Jim Cuddy, I could read your lips, singing the anthem in French. Be still my French Canadian heart.

That and Heathrow Terminal 5 was clearly designed by someone who grew up playing with Lego and Technic sets.

I always dreamed of some sort of a Chris Carter/Neil Gaiman collaboration. And though the potential for that ship may have sailed, I got the next best thing with Neil Gaiman penning an episode of Doctor Who.

I like that we were given a genuine look into the Doctor's emotions while still having a pretty decent stand-alone episode that didn't necessitate more near-death experiences for the main characters.

crimson. eleven. delight. the smell of dust after rain

Petrichor. Opening the old controlroom with a telepathic password was a nice touch. I am tempted to dip into some TARDIS fic now, especially if she's the one who can grant someone access to the time vortex itself just to expand how that's played into past storylines.

The general geekery of getting to experience Doctor Who the moment it airs was followed by having a Eurovision party Saturday night. The ultimate educational programming to teach anyone international (or at least European) relations and geography!

Sunday was highlighted by a trip to the 90s with a Lois & Clark marathon and following the boxscore of the IIHF World Championship Final between Finland and Sweden. With 3 minutes left in the game, I got a call from Mirella who was out watching the match on a big screen and I had the pleasure of hearing the insane cheers as the Finns slammed in a couple more goals. GO SUOMI!!

There were two particular highlights of the tournament that I did manage to catch thanks to lovely people on Youtube who got goal footage up asap. Mikael Granlund's slick stick work in the semi-finals against Russia. The goal even made it onto the front page of NHL.com within minutes. And the goal that tied the game and fueled the fire for the Finns. A rough defensive performance from the Swedes at the end of the second had Mikko Koivu pinned down on the ice but he STILL manages to kick the puck out to the blue line. One slapshot later, the game is tied and it was all one-sided from there.

Signs that I do indeed live in the UK now.

It's no surprise to find James May on billboards during my everyday perambulations. And advertising beer! A warm welcome indeed.

On impulse, I went to see the Drive-by Truckers at O2's Shepherds Bush Empire on May 5th.

The architecture of the concert hall reminds me so much of the Metropolis, my favorite Montreal venue. Shepherds Bush is not quite as long but it has an extra level or two of balcony seating and numerous bars flanking the side walls. Approval.

DBT impressed me. They seem to change up their setlist frequently, which is refreshing because I didn't know what to expect and even though I didn't get to hear some of my favorites, I was blessed with gems I hadn't discovered yet and I am definitely looking forward to seeing them again. They let their music set their mood, they roll with it and while Patterson's vocals were a little low when they jacked up the decibel level of Mike Cooley's guitar, it was pleasantly harder and more raw than on album.

And so persists my adoration of middle-age guitarists.

I was slap bang right in front of Cooley throughout the whole gig and I could not stop watching those hands.

Southern rock, Jack Daniels, loudness. Some things never change.

03.24.1996 - 07.06.2011

Rest in peace, my little man.

Jaclyn and mom were with him until his last breath. I couldn't feel farther from home right now.
to mould like clay, to break like dirt

My algae eater now happily floating about in Jaclyn's tank as she adopted my fish when I moved. The synchrony is beautiful (even though she claims mine, on the right, is being a bit of a pest at times).



Sarah captioned the moment fantastically: "my life would suck without you".

( O Captain, my Captain )

"What you got from Koivu during his years with the Canadiens was everything he had - on and off the ice, including the many millions the Saku Koivu Foundation raised to combat the killer disease he conquered.

What you also got was someone born to wear the C."

- Red Fisher, Montreal Gazette



The crowd erupted at the end of the anthems as the jumbotron cut from an old clip of Koivu to one of him live on the ice in a Ducks jersey. Cue the emotion and the first of two thunderous ovations that night.

After nearly two whole seasons without him, seeing him play twice in one week has been good for my sanity (not to mention getting to see him play with a fellow Finn because oh, the chemistry). I didn't think I needed any closure with the city of Montreal, but it did reaffirm how deeply rooted my adoration of this man is. I love his constant domination in the faceoff circles, his deke that almost always lands him a goal in shootouts, I've missed his particular and recognizable way of skating into the offensive zone on his heels and hell, I even miss his notoriety for taking ill-timed slashing penalties. And then, after the match, they announced his name as the second star of the game with such booming grandeur and familiarity as though he really was playing on home ice. And for those few hours on Saturday January 22nd, 2011, when he was skating yet again on Bell Centre ice, everything felt right again.

I took it for love, or at least something beautiful out there in the spotlight

My graduation gift to myself:

The Black Mailbox | Highway 375, Nevada

* Drove over 3000 miles in one week across 4 states in the American Southwest

* Approached the sign-posted limits of Area 51, which involved driving down the longest stretch of dusty unpaved road. The sight of the dust in my rear-view mirror blotting out the hills of Nevada is a sight I will always cherish. Saw the Black Mailbox! Ate dinner at the Little A'Le'Inn, a foray which was punctuated by loud blasts which we were informed by the owner were sonic booms from test flights.

* Roamed amongst the vast epicness that is Bryce Canyon in Utah and the Grand Canyon in Arizona. Climbed all over things in a responsible fashion.

* In the middle of a night drive, we found a splendid little diner called the Thunderbird Restaurant advertising Ho-Made Pies,along US-89 driving down from Bryce Canyon.

* Endorsed hockey in Phoenix, AZ... but cheered for Anaheim. The Ducks may have lost but Koivu is still Captain of the face-off circle.

* Took one of the best detours ever to visit the Very Large Array on the Plains of San Agustin in New Mexico. I still need to visit Arecibo one day but this was probably on par in terms of radio astronomy appreciation. I know it was one of the highlights of trip for Mary too and I'm so glad she had made the connection that it was in the general vicinity.

* Went to Roswell (ROSWELL!!), New Mexico where there really isn't much to see apart from the UFO Museum, which is well worth the inexpensive admission, filled with affidavits of eye-witness accounts of the 1947 incident itself, military documents, UFO crockery and general documentation of reports and hysteria (including one particularly long-winded, poorly structured, type-written report, from a man who claimed he and his friend saw UFOs over their cabin in Ontario one night. He ends the letter by saying 'we were sober, and my friend is deceased.' which I think is the best sign-off ever).

* Upon leaving Roswell, at long last I saw some tumbleweed.

* We straddled our car along some dirt road in the middle of nowhere between New Mexico and Arizona and stargazed.

We had the most colorful assortment of lodgings over the course of the week including taking Mary to a pyramid (Luxor), allowing Mirella to spend her first night in the U.S. in a castle (Excalibur), a circus tent (Circus Circus), the Windmill Ridge, a Holiday Inn Express, some Super 8 and Motel 6 rooms, a Comfort Inn (which after two nights at Motel 6 felt like a palacial suite). The Windmill Ridge won us over in the way of charm with its themed log cabins and exquisite breakfast, even if there was a slight hiccup with water supply in the area due to construction while we were there.

10 days in the American Southwest taught me that a) there really is a frightening mass of fundamentalist support burrowed down there b) I really frakkin' love driving (and that Mirella harbors awesome driving skills!) and c) there is such a thing as having too much bacon. I think every meal incorporated bacon in some way.