Stag and No Don't!

Since childhood I've never really been a fan of formal gatherings. I'm not talking 3 piece suits and 5 course meals, but get togethers that are planned well in advance with hundreds of people expected in attendance and the idea of mingling. I'm still not a fan of those kinds of things, but Saturday night's Stag and Doe for my buddy Steve went over almost as smoothly as one could ask.

A bit of nostalgia from being back in the club I spent much of my childhood in until my parents' less than amicable split aside, it was great. And I even managed to have that fun while relatively sober to sober and able to drive home.

Of course there were a few awkward moments with aunts and uncles and cousins I'd never seen in my life, and a Chem prof who actually taught my section (that I rarely attended) in first year. Some old highschool faces showed, few of whom seemed to recognize me. Some old friends of my dad's side of the family were the club bartenders. They didn't recognize me either, which is probably for the better. And for the best, I could only find one picture of myself still hanging on the walls in a dark dingy corner where, curiously enough, I used to spend most of my time sitting in the younger days.

There were of course the pictures of my grandfather and cousins everywhere, but the few with my grandmother probably brought back the most memories. It was after she died that that whole side of the family, my dad included started coming apart. She was the glue...or the doughy goodness of all her baking that kept together the assortment of fillings.

Anyways, after that little bit of reminiscing I ran the mini-putt game all night where a father and daughter brought some real competitiveness that I thought would be lacking. They tied for first and got to fight over who would keep the 40 of Canadian Club, that being the only prize of the assortment they cared about.

And through it all I didn't drink my face off, and was feelin great for the drive down to Toronto to see the Jays. Gorgeous day, and the traffic was infinitely better than a weekday evening, or apparently during a TTC strike. But apparently getting to the stadium a full hour before the first pitch still wasn't early enough to guarantee me a bobblehead, and then they went on to drop the first game of the series, and chalk up the first loss of a game I've been to all season. At least I learned by bobblehead lesson, and will be much better prepared for when Cito Gaston's porcelain embodiment comes to town.