starcatcher.ca

Tattoo time again, folks. That time of year when Melissa becomes a Tattoo Widow (and Emilia a Tattoo Orphan) while Daddy goes off to the Metro Centre for a week to sing for a few minutes and frak around for a few hours. The main difference this year is that I’m not taking any pictures since our camera’s on the fritz.

Unlike past years, I’m not writing about everything, mainly because I don’t have the time. Mom and Melissa’s only complaint about the show was that there weren’t really any kid-oriented or straight-out comedy acts to keep the young’uns entertained in between the bands and gymnasts. What’s there is good, though, especially if you like bands, and pipes, and more bands. The choir is singing some Robbie Burns, some Beethoven, and… Michael Kamen? An eclectic mix, I suppose… Choir’s a good size, too, with lots of new faces, which is always cool. Good seeing my old choir buddies again and having long conversations about everything from the myth of talent to poop.

Is it different this year? I think so, but then again it’s different every year, all while managing to stay the same… It never really gets old, though, despite the fact that I don’t have the urge to go out dancing every night like back in the first few years. I’ll keep on doing it until I’m old and gray. Or at least until we have another kid and it’s too much for Mommy to bear to be home alone for a week with two balls of energy.

Oh yeah, a special “hi” goes out to our friends Mark & Cindy’s daughter Laura, who is the “girl in the front” of the wedge of girls-in-white-dresses-with-”candles” in the middle of the military tribute scene at the end of act 1. I’d go backstage and say hi in person if it didn’t come across as very creepy.