Made by my clever friend Missy, the wool whisperer of Minnesota, my custom cap drew lots of compliments and questions when I donned it for two draws at the Continental Cup recently. I do not have a good hat head, but this one actually works. I am not claiming that my headgear was responsible for Canada's sweep of the Cup, but I am not saying it wasn't, either.
We got so caught up in the grunt-poems emanating from the pebbled ice, that we booked a hotel and ticket package for next year's Cup. In Las Vegas! It was held there last year, with such overwhelming success that organizers, who certainly know on which side their bread is buttered (it's buttered on the side of Canadian curling fans of a certain age who would like to escape winter for a week in January), made the call to bring curling back to the Nevada desert.
I've never had the urge to visit Las Vegas before, but this changes everything. Instead of driving for an hour across the city on winter roads to watch the best curlers on the planet, I will be able to walk from my hotel room in my flip-flops.
And I understand that the Neon Museum is really cool. Vegas, baby!