weekend recap

Thursday:  well, we've seen the results of our game on Thursday.

Friday:  first Christmas concert.  My assessment upon returning home:  "Well, on the bright side, Henry Higgins would have preferred hearing us to hearing a Cornishman converse."

Saturday:  second game 9am, vs. flt and devilvern and company.  We won, but because of a goofy seeding procedure thing, we had to play in the semifinal at 4pm instead of going directly to the final on Sunday.  But I had the second Christmas concert at 4, so I called in the spare I'd arranged previously.  Sang the second Christmas concert; it went much, much, much better.  Heard directly afterward that my team + the spare had won the game, huzzah.  Met my parents, had dinner.  Went back up to the club to watch the late games, during which J, my Kayser skip, missed an open hit for the third time in as many [shots? ends? games? whatever, he was having a bad weekend] and reacted by slamming his broom onto the boards and breaking it, then storming through the warm room snarling at himself ("Goddammit, you suck!") on his way to try to find his wife's old broom and eventually borrowing a club broom to finish the game with.  It was incredibly uncomfortable; although apparently he apologized to his teammates and opponents, he didn't apologize to the other players on the ice or the folks in the warm room, with the result that another guy I've viced for -- who is quite the broom-slammer himself, although not quite so violently -- wouldn't shut up about how I needed to talk to J about this kind of behavior.  The irony was RIFE.  (On my other side was Smug Bastard, whom I was vicing for this weekend, who when he gets frustrated -- because, note, there is no curler alive who is not frustrated to miss shots s/he knows s/he could have made, and there is no curler alive who has never had this happen -- when he gets frustrated, might visibly scowl.  All I needed was J's wife to be there quietly panicking, darthrami shrugging offhandedly, and datlowen doing his standup routine, and I'd have a complete set.)  Anyway, I sent an e-mail when I got home, asking him to promise never to do that again.

Sunday:  up to the club for the final, 10am.  We had the hammer, by virtue of having won more games to get there; blanked the first, took one in the second, stole one in the third -- and then gave up two in the fourth, and never really got our groove back.  The indicative example is the fact that, on my second shot in the fifth end, I was literally begging Smug Bastard to have the front end sweep my rock, and by the time he called for the sweep it was too late and my perfect back-line-weight come-around for a tap back and roll behind cover wrecked on the guard and left us nowhere, and then two shots later when Smug Bastard had an open draw for a second point (in what should have been a much bigger end), he came up short.  I mean, really.  (Lather, rinse, repeat.  They took one in the sixth and stole two in the seventh, and we were playing too badly and they much too well for us to take three in the eighth.  We couldn't even get two to tie and force an extra end.)  Anyway, we lost that game, which was a pity because it was the first time we hadn't played well; but it was nice for the other team, whose skip had never won a first event final and whose vice had never been to one.  I like the first time people win first events; it's very exciting.  So that really did make me feel better, when we were talking about it at the table after.  In less-happy news, though, the skip of one of the second-event teams, who is not in the best health, had not showed up for his game, and the team had drafted a spare from the warm room, but apparently the rest of the warm room had spent the whole game trying to call him and getting no answer; so we kind of had no idea, as of lunch time today, what was going on with him.  This, I admit, was on my mind through the whole of the third Christmas concert, the first half of which (apart from the processional) was the best of the three, and the second half of which was miles better than Friday but not as good as Saturday.  My parents enjoyed it, which was good.  Went to dinner, then left them back at the hotel, and returned home via grocery store (I had no coffee left in the house) and the gas station.

I've decided not to do laundry tonight, because I will need to have something to do tomorrow.  Seriously, a free Monday evening, I don't have the faintest idea what I'd do with myself otherwise.