Capt. Mondo's World o' Mondo-ness

Ballet and Shopsy's
Took the girls this morning to an "open house" ballet practice offered by the National Ballet company for free at the Hummingbird Centre. Both Annie and Vanessa had been looking forward to this for the better part of the week, and though it wouldn't exactly be what I would call my idea of a fun morning event, I couldn't say no.

I also had a better idea than the girls as what to expect: a practice session, with lots of stretching and exercises. No explicitly choreographed dances or tutus anywhere in evidence. Vanessa was crushingly disappointed at first, but we stuck it out, and in the end when they got to the jumps and the rehearsing of their dances for that evening's performance her mood had greatly improved. Annie had fewer pre-conceptions, and seemed to enjoy the whole thing.

Afterwards we went to the Shopsy's across the street, where we dined on large helpings of comfort food, which of course went down very well. I found myself gazing upon the myriad black and white pictures on the wall featuring largely anonymous (to me) celebrities, striving to find familiar faces, and finding few. And then pondering the fleeting instance of fame -- all the while trying to keep the kids happy. And realizing that trying to be a good Dad is what matters to me the most at moments like this.

We ended up going to the CBC building, intending to see the museum there, which unfortunately proved to be closed, though it was supposed to be open. Took a picture at the behest of a group of visiting tourists, all wearing the same colourful neckercheif of their tour group, who were disappointed not to get in, but still wanted a picture of them in front of the Friendly Giant exhibit which faces the glass-walled entrance. The girls and I spent our time vainly waiting for the museum to open by watching some ancient black and white era comedy show I had never heard of called Peppiatt & Aylesworth, in the adjacent (and otherwise empty) Graham Spry Theatre but it was enjoyable.

The weather was turning grey by this point, so we headed to the NFB HQ on John Street and watched an hour's worth of dialed-up cartoons before heading home.