FAITES DU BRUIT!

The ostensible reason for our recent trip to Montreal was for Pierre to take our daughter and myself to see one of the final games before the big whoop Grey Cup Game, which is being played tonight even as I type this.  At the game we attended, the Montreal Alouettes won big-time against the BC Lions, 56 to 18.  I was the only one in the stands to cheer the Lions AT ALL, EVER, throughout the game, and I only did so once, for fear of my life.  The rest of the stadium was silent the few times the Lions managed to score, silent being a relative term as the decibel level in the place was akin to that of an over-amped giant beehive full of happily buzzing (roaring) bees at all times.  I just could not believe the amount of noise in the place, but when you consider it was full of 54,000 people, mostly men (and by men I mean pumped-up, half-crazed, rabid sports nuts), I guess it's understandable.  And I'm just talking about the times when they weren't being encouraged by the guy with the microphone to "FAITES DU BRUIT" (make noise)...which I thought he was inexplicably saying "ONE TWO THREE" but as most of football seems inexplicable to me,  I didn't question it.  After awhile, though, I did notice the crowd roaring, banging empty seats, stamping, blowing horns, whistling whenever the 1-2-3 signal was given and I eventually looked up at the giant screen to behold the magic words "FAITES DU BRUIT" and all became clear. Well, at least that part of the game.

I don't think I was ever in a place with 54,000 people all at once before.  Here's a cross-section of what it looked like.  They actually got the "wave" going around the entire stadium a few times.  I was too busy with other things to participate...

Other things looking something like this

Well, no, it wasn't the hairy leg I was preoccupied with, more to do with not spilling my beer.  Truth to tell, I only consumed one.  But at least I did my part.  Here's what was attached to the leg

Beer Boy really got his exercise, carrying beer up and down the stairs.  Unfortunately, hot dogs weren't delivered to the seats but our dutiful daughter went and lined up for them for a half hour or so.   We ate them too fast for me to get a picture.

Of course there were cheerleaders to go along with the display.  They're more distracting than anything else but still inspiring enough for this aspiring little cheerette to get her groove on.

I have no clue who these guys are but they were pretty stoked about the Alouettes being Number 1.  At least, I think that's what the fingers signify.  It's all a mystery to me.

So now, gentle silent readers, I must hurriedly post this and dash off to join the men folk over at our buddy's house to watch the final game of the NFL season--the Grey Cup.  This is the game the Montreal Alouettes won the right to play in.  They have won that right 7 times in the past 10 years...but have not won.  Their reputation is on the line tonight.  I'm just in it for the half-time nachos and beer that promises to be served up.

Go Als!

UPDATE:  The Montreal Alouettes won the Grey Cup 28-27 after being behind at half-time 3-17! 

Swannee

Here's a little nod to those folks out there who are celebrating Thanksgiving this weekend. 
(hello Nashville!--you know who you are)

Rescuing the public yet again from an aggressive swan, Larry the zoo-keeper begins to plan his Thanksgiving dinner menu.
Maxim:

Time for somebody's swan song.

 

And speaking of swans...

 

Here's a window that caught my attention while I was swanning around Montreal last week.  But I've gotten ahead of myself here...see the post below to start our trip to La Belle Province.

The Québec Trail

A little over a week ago, we hit the highway to Québec.  Our traditional first stop is the Irving Big Stop (recently renamed the Blue Canoe but still the Big Stop to the locals).  Irving is a gas station/convenience store/sometimes restaurant/sometimes truck stop--the Big Stop variety being the epitome of all the aforementioned incarnations.  We were very pleased to meet up with these classic Canadian voyageurs stopping by on their portage.  Being true Canadians, they were very nice and posed for this photo.  I was so pleased to catch the Canada Geese flying over the scene as well. 

Inside the store you can buy all the latest designer hunting outfits as 'tis the season-- for shooting moose, that is.  If you have a license.  I hope our friend in the canoe we saw outside escapes unscathed.  I don't think it would be very sportsmanlike to shoot a moose that's wearing a Santa hat.  Kind of an easy target.  And still on the easy target topic, I don't know about you, but personally I'd opt for the bright orange get-up if I was going to go roaming around in the woods with a bunch of guys toting shotguns.  I may not be the only one to think this way as there seems to be a preponderance of camo duds and only a few of the obvious "I am not a bush or a moose so don't shoot!" variety left on the rack..

Our tour guide for the trip will be none other than Captain Canada himself! 

(Note the parking area for moose in the background.  A clever ploy by local hunters to lure the unsuspecting creatures into their trap!)

Torched

My neighbour in the burrow where we live e-mailed me some photos of the big event that happened there this morning while we're still off gallivanting in Montréal...The Olympic Torch was passed!  If only they'd taken a moment to torch the abandonned house (seen in the background)!

On the Road Again

I wish I could have bought this little number when I was out in Vancouver.  It would have made a swell present for Pierre.  And it would have been such fun to ride off to Quebec in it tomorrow morning.  Yup, we're on the road again.  Going to visit the in-laws in Quebec City and then our daughter in Montreal.  But the Prime Motivation of the trek, at least according to Pierre, is for him to take our daughter and myself to a football game at the Big O (Olympic Stadium) this Sunday.  Now, I hate almost all team sports (who am I kidding--pretty much all sports.  Go ahead and boo!) and maybe especially football.  But the opportunity to observe my partner making an absolute fool of himself (okay, not that unusual)  and having a ball (pardon the pun), as well as hanging out en famille, eating hot dogs and drinking beer, was just too much for me to refuse.  I had thought I might bring my knitting along to keep myself amused in the stands but my daughter has advised against it.  Too much risk of getting mustard in the yarn, and it would also interfere with my drinking arm.  Such a wise girl (she has a master's degree from Oxford, you know.  Proud Mum.)

I hope we won't see too many of these little bandits' corpses littering the highway en route.  I also hope we won't need our snow tires because Pierre steadfastly refuses to have them installed as he claims they're too noisy for such a long ride (10 hours to Quebec City from here) and he swears it's not going to snow on our trip.  Heard that one before!

BTW--the teams playing on Sunday will be the BC Lions and the Montreal Alouettes.  I'm from BC and Pierre's from Quebec, so things could get interesting in the stands.

Go Team!  Go Me!  See you soon!
I've left you a kiss goodbye here

A County Welcome

When company's comin' to visit, the folks here in Albert County like to make them feel real welcome.  Why put out just one sofa when two will be just that much comfier.

Why do the folks here in Albert County go to such great lengths to make people feel welcome?  Well, I think the sign on this door 'bout says it all.

Get Your Motor Running

Out walking the backroads of the village I came across this interesting specimen of vehicular phantasmagoria.

(phatasmagoria: Rare.  a shifting scene composed of different elements)

 "Shifting"--get it?

It was being off-loaded into this ginormous garage that had recently been built beside a mini-home (ie. non-mobile mobile home).  The garage is twice as big and at least twice as high as the home.  Good to get one's priorities straight.

I know pretty much diddly-squat about engines, but I'm pretty sceptical that this windmill affair can actually make the car go.  Maybe it's a new wind-powered auto?

Couldn't resist doing a little colour job on her.

We Interrupt This Blog...

New and Improved: Movin' On Bonus Valu-Pak!

We interrupt this blog to bring you a bonus illustration, generously suggested by FCW (that's a Fart in the Cosmic Wind for those of you who haven't caught a whiff of his blog before) who sent me a link to a (White) Spot of nostalgia that beautifully illustrates the drive-in I mentioned in the post below (see: "Movin' On").

White Spot No1, Granville Street - 1958

20"H x 32"W; Limited Edition Giclee ; Price:$700

Artist:  Brian Croft

The folks here at Décolleté (well, me) have also thoughtfully provided a video of the tune "Beep beep!" where you can view some pretty sweet little Nash Ramblers and join in the singing with Margaret over at Margaret Panpipes, who knows all the words to the chorus.



Happy Days, indeed.  At least for a kid like me who enjoyed riding around in the back seat of her parents' car, going to the drive-in restaurant for supper, and listening to goofy pop songs on the radio. 

I hope my little self-indulgent trip down Memory Lane will not make too many of you younger folk out there, such as my dear blog pal the  Sagittarian, or my adoptive baby brother  Owen,  feel that their childhoods were deprived in any way!

And here's a family photo, taken round about this time.  I'm sitting on my grandmother's lap (note my poodle skirt! My saddle shoes, alas, had already worn out), my great-grandfather sits behind us, my dad sits in the centre of the picture (note his cool jacket with the leather sleeves), my mother (note the bright red lipstick and long hair pulled back in a braid) holds my relatively new baby sister on her lap, while my great-grandmother sports a jaunty neckerchief.  My grandfather is behind the camera.

Movin' On

And now a word from our sponsor.

I'm not much into cars but I was quite taken with this little number.  It reminds me of one of my all-time favourite automobiles, the Nash Rambler.  "Beep beep!  Beep beep!  It's horn went beep beep beep!"  Anyone other than me remember that golden oldie?  My family used to go for burgers at the then drive-in A&W, as opposed to the now drive-thru.  It seemed so exotic to have a waitress roller skate out to the car bearing small trays laden with fat-loaded foods.  The little trays were hooked to the edge of the side windows, outside the car.  The windows had to be rolled to just the right height. 

At another burger place, the White Spot, long metallic trays were inserted across the whole interior width of the car, from driver's window to passenger's, and hooked into the sill.  It was a bit like eating from a trough, though. 

After this fine dining experience, we would often "go for a spin" in the car, usually with me standing up in the back, leaning over the front seat for a better view, while my dad twiddled the radio dial and my mum smoked a Black Cat cigarette. 

Those were the days!

A Remembrance Day to Forget

I went out deliberately without my camera this afternoon, thinking I'd just enjoy a stroll.   But  when I passed the colourful display of poppied crosses, put up by the village in tribute to the fallen soldiers, I was moved to rush back home to fetch my camera to record the image and post my own little memorial here.

In taking this picture from what I considered to be an interesting angle, I somehow dropped my camera onto the hard cement monument base and broke it.  No, not the monument, my camera.  Yes, broke it, as in fini, finito, kaputski, game over.

What sort of moral might I draw from this sad occurence?  That I should have listened to my first instinct, which was to just enjoy the walk for itself?  To stop obsessing about recording every little breath I take to share with invisible friends in a virtual realm?  That there is a deeply ingrained saboteur hiding within the depths of my psyche?  That crappy things happen for no apparent reason?  That in comparison to losing or giving one's life, breaking one's camera is not such a big deal?  That I must get on with other aspects of self-expression that do not involve a camera?  What sort of activity, for heaven's sake, might that be?  Even when I make art I still need to document it.  I dunno.

Operators are standing by to take your pledges of sympathy and monetary assistance. 

Thank you.

*****
 Update Two Hours Later:  We interrupt this maudlin post to broadcast the wonderfully good news that Pierre has performed a miracle and fixed my camera!  Please, however, don't let this news interfere with your monetary pledges.

Get'em While U Can

But try to limit yourself to fifty.

Sunday Paper

Strolling down Main Street in the village where I live, I noticed the little, unused building that sometimes houses antiques for sale had its windows covered with newspaper. Finding this interesting, I stopped to take a photo, and discovered the big Baptist church across the street had made the first page!

There and Back Again

So, last time we spoke, I was telling you that I was about to head back to the east coast.
This is how it went...

After taking a bus to downtown Vancouver, I connected with the new Canada Line Sky Train. Half of the ride, though, is underground, so it's not technically a "sky" train at that point. But let's not get picky; it's too early in the morning to split hairs about terminology. I'm just happy to clamber on board and be whisked (again, not shaken or stirred--well, maybe a little stirred, emotionally speaking) out to the airport.




En route, we pass over the mighty Fraser River. Still enough trees to be cut down for the logging industry, apparently. Out the front window of the sky train, we see YVR getting closer. I must admit that it freaks me out a bit to not have a human driver on the train. It's all computerized. And very new.





Here's the other side of that carving I photographed upon my arrival here 5 weeks ago. Remember the surprised face? Well, it was on the backside (literally) of "Big Bird" here. Maybe that's why it had such a shocked look on its face. Inside the airport are more examples of native art, which I love.





And this is a parting shot of yours truly, taken inside the cavernous, colourful, and sparkly clean ladies' washroom. I added a few special FX to disguise my true identity...and age!

12 hours later, my second plane, which left from Montreal, landed with a mighty BUMP! and a resounding bounce or two. I guess the pilot had trouble seeing the tarmac through the fog.

There was a robust, though height-challenged, welcome committe waiting inside the airport.

I think the pilot might have overshot our destination!

Oh, wait a minute...it gets worse. We weren't actually at the North Pole, these were Christmas decorations, up already on November 4! Argh!

But as Scarlett reminds us in the Relator video,

"You can leave whenever you want out."

Going Home

I'm heading back to my home on the other coast.

Bags are packed, lunch is made, plans to return in the spring are waiting to hatch.

I'll leave here at 8:00 a.m. and arrive on the eastern side of the country at midnight, but it will seem like 8:00 p.m. to me because of the 4 hour time difference. Wine and snacks have been promised to celebrate my return.

It's always hard to leave here, with its warm welcome, good company, day trips, old friends, family get togethers, favourite haunts, new scenes, old tricks, cozy evenings, lazy mornings, walks and talks, gorgeous scenery.

It's been great.

Not Such a Dumb Bunny

Question: Does eating the grass at an institute of higher learning make the average dumb bunny smarter?

The University of Victoria is overrun with bunnies! I asked my guide to stop the car so that I might take a few pictures of the hopping, nibbling, twitching, munching bunnies. As I knelt down on the grass to capture an image or two, they turned as one and started moving towards me. I have to say it was rather creepy and just a little frightening.

I don't know how smart these U.Vic. bunnies are generally, but their math skills are pretty sharp. After all, they're multiplying like rabbits!