Elgan speaks
...and her words thunder across the land

All that jazz!

Thursday, July 7, 2005
9:30 a.m.
I can now finally say that I have been to the M0ntreal Jazz Festival. Yesterday�s weather was absolutely perfect--sunny, not too hot, slightly breezy--which was a blessing considering the forecast was for more thunderstorms.

Hubby and I got to our parking place near the art gallery at noon and phoned our friends who were expecting us at that moment that we were walking over and would be there 20 minutes to half-an-hour later. He sorely misjudged the distance and time it would take us to get there, the 1300s on Ontario Street, and 50 minutes later we were knocking at their door, my heels starting to ache and a raw spot on top of my right foot where my sandal straps had rubbed the skin open. Our friends, a retired art professor from Bushop�s and his ex-nurse Philipino wife, gave us a delicious meal (I totally overate) and then drove us back to centre ville (after I bandaged up my gaping wound) where we went to Chapters (Hubby�s sister had given him gift certificates which we are not able to use at home anymore since our one English-language bookstore packed up and left; I bought three books which will go on the pile next to my side of the bed), we had fancy coffees at the Starbucks on the second floor (I had absolutely no room for anything, but they smelled so good), and then we headed out onto the street, through the crowds, to Place des Arts where all the jazz was happening.

On the main stage on Sh�brooke Street was a group of Belgians called S0ledad playing tango music (violin, guitar, accordion, piano and bass). Even though that stuff is so incredibly schmaltzy, it still does something to me, and I was torn between wanting to stay to listen and finding somewhere to sit because my back was killing me. Eventually we wandered away and found another stage where this incredible English-born Scottish guitarist who happens to be living in Germany, Ian MeIr0se, played a concert. He was very, very good. B. and I found a place to sit on the stands quite a distance away from the stage and Hubby and D. stood in the crowd directly in front of the stage where they could get a good view of the performer.

Following that, we proceeded to another stage where our friend Grampa Mike did a set with his friend L. on organ and Kevin O. on drums. There were no seats, but Hubby handed me the section of newspaper he had been carrying around so I could sit on the ground. A small green dragonfly hovered in front of me, appearing to be lost in the huge crowd. I put out my hand, and it landed on the tip of my middle finger, actually setting there for a couple of minutes while it rested. Eventually it flew away, and I watched it disappear above the stage into the open air. At one point I glanced over to the side and saw a couple dancing in the area left open as a walkway. It was a beautiful evening.

We walked back to our friends� car and they drove us back to ours where we hugged and kissed goodbye, then headed home. The traffic on the bridge was horrible, three lanes eventually being squeezed into one (there are two seasons in Quebec: winter and construction) and just 20 minutes away from our destination Hubby asked me to take over the driving because the ibuprofen he had taken for his sore leg had started to kick in with a vengeance. We pulled into our garage shortly after midnight to find a pile of dirty dishes on the kitchen counter (why can�t those kids load the dishwasher, is it that difficult?), so I cleaned that up before heading to bed.

This morning, I am pleased to tell, my two-weeks�-late period seems to have arrived, which should end this nastier-than-usual case of PMS I have been inflicting upon those around me. I long for menopause.

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