Idol worship

I hate to admit it, but Caroline and I have become addicted to the most recent season of American Idol. I've never really seen it before, and missed out on the highlights of recent years, like William Hung singing "She Bangs!"

I always wondered what the fuss was all about, and I'm not sure I'm closer to knowing the answer, but I do know that it's one of my guilty pleasures. This week I was sad to see Becky O'Donohue go home- she's not the best singer, but hey, she's hot! I thought people would vote for her just so they could look at her for a few more weeks (or maybe that's just me!)

Being 30, I'm probably outside the normal age range for loving the show, so I guess my idol worship will have to stay my little secret. My very public, blogged-about secret.

Counting crows?

Not to push the crow issue too far, but can you spot the difference here? Which is the crow? Which is the raven? Apparently, it's quite obvious. Raven on the left, crow on the right. Too bad the bird we saw in Canmore today was the bird on the right. That's all I have to say.

Eating crow

I just read Caroline's blog and feel the need to offer my rebuttal. First, about the bed thing: I didn't say it goes under the pillows. I was taking exception to the method of folding back the flat sheet half-way down the bed, then TUCKING IT IN. I would go to get into bed, and couldn't get into the damn thing without practically ripping the sheets off. I merely suggested that the top sheet be folded over just a little, not three feet.

And as far as the crows go, I never realized I was married to an ornithologist. According to my sources (Wikipedia), ravens are part of the crow family, and look just like crows except that they are bigger and have shaggy throat feathers and a few other features that only a bird expert could identify (and apparently I am not one of those experts). So, on our first anniversary, in the interest of our marriage, I will concede defeat, and take my lovely wife to a movie. And I think I'll pay out of our joint bank account.

Brokeback Mountain

On Thursday night Caroline and I went to see the highly acclaimed, controversial gay cowboy movie, Brokeback Mountain. I was curious to see what the fuss was all about and the movie was all shot around Calgary, so I thought I'd check it out for the gorgeous scenery in my back yard.

I know that volumes have already been written about the movie, and I don't have much to add in the way of the movie's themes, etc. But I will say that Brokeback is one of the single most heartbreaking movies I've ever seen. The character's lives were messy, but at the end of it all I found myself silently and deeply moved. I'm no expert when it comes to picking Oscar winners, but I'll be very surprised if this film doesn't run away with the awards.

I love the Olympics, but not tonight

Saturday night in Canada is sacred. As if corporate executives at CBC were trying to compromise between Saturday- and Sunday-Sabbath observers, Canada's weekly ritual starts at 6:00 p.m. every Saturday night. But the sacredness of Saturday night has nothing to do with organized religion, per se. Saturday night is sacred because it's Hockey Night in Canada.

Every week it follows roughly the same format. Games start around 6:00, with either Toronto, Ottawa, or Montreal playing because they're 2 hours ahead. Then a second game follows after the first, featuring one of the three western teams- Edmonton, Calgary, or Vancouver. Besides the games, which are entertaining in their own right, Canadians tune in to hear a wildly-attired Don Cherry interrupt Ron MacLean and shout his opinion about a variety of topics, some hockey-related ("only sissy Euros wear visors"), some not ("any Canadian who doesn't want to carry the flag for Canada in the Olympic opening ceremonies should be ashamed of himself").

So tonight I sat down with a drink and a half-bag of Doritos to enjoy the full HNIC experience. I caught the tail end of the Rangers-Leafs game, but to my horror, as soon as that game was over, they switched to Torino to Olympic coverage. To add insult to injury, figure skating is on. Next to curling (yes, I realize I could lose my citizenship for this), figure skating is my least favorite Olympic sport. Any benefit I derive from seeing pretty girls in short skirts is nullified by having to watch pretty boys in tight pants. So while I hope that our Canadian skaters do well, I'll just have to read about it in the paper tomorrow morning.

Like a boa constrictor, law school has been squeezing the life out of my creativity, reducing what was already a mere trickle down to a couple of tiny, inconsistent drops. Hence, no blogging. Because I spend all my time, in and out of school, reading and writing, the last thing I feel like doing in my free time is spending more time on the computer, blogging.

Having said that, I really miss it. It's not so much that I miss "putting myself out there", cause to be honest I don't really know if anyone even reads this blog. I guess it's more a matter of simply taking the time to collect my thoughts and see what I think about the things that are going on around me.

Today, for no apparent reason, I feel inspired. Not in an overwhelming "Eureka!" kind of way, but in a "I feel good and want to write" kind of way. So to my unknown muse, I say thank you. And in the words of the Violent Femmes, "Good feeling, won't you stay with me, just a little longer..."