I don’t really want to play bars. It’s not a moral stance. It’s just that bars come with a built-in distraction system. Glassware, conversations, televisions that don’t care about your bridge. But The Blues Can in Calgary made the case for itself. It was wonderful. Partly because of the room, which somehow holds attention despite its bar-ness. But mostly the people. Cary Rodin was there. Chris and Denise too. Nothing warmer than old friends, whole night tilting toward very human before we played a note. Not a real piano but Mike and I learn to live with that. The pretend version, not ideal, but workable. We’re lucky, most nights we get real pianos, when we don’t, it feels less like a loss, more a temporary compromise. Teena hosted. Intense maternal energy. She hovered. Not in a negative way, but like she carried responsibility for everything, our food, our hotel, our well-being, perhaps our long-term emotional stability. And there was Tom Phillips who truly save the day after we almost had the show set up in a theatre but then nope. Puzzled expression on Denise as to why no high performance rodeo for Bob? I would like to solve this. This was the 2cnd time I said I was nominated for a Juno in the new category of enduring wobbly intoxicated ladies of Red Deer. Interestingly, it was also the 2cnd time someone at end of night congratulated me for my Juno nomination. Totally sincere. Left me wondering whether or not to explain humour.