Hubby is beside himself with glee over the Leafs finally making it to round two of a playoff series. Too bad they disappointed him with a loss the first game against the Florida Panthers. If all of this is just words to you, I’m with you. I only know this shit because it radiates from my television screen and like osmosis, I have no choice but to absorb the content. Hockey has always been a part of our relationship. From back in the day when we lived in Toronto and would saunter on down to the Maple Leaf Gardens to see if we could get our hands on tickets for a game that evening, to now, a few years later (*cough, cough*) and a few provinces east, to watch his fave team hopefully make a bid for the elusive cup. Finally. After all this time. We have a deal that if the Toronto Maple Leafs ever made it to the Stanley Cup, we would be in Toronto to see that happen. Could it finally be happening? Should I get online and buy the plane tickets? I’ll have to dig out his Eddie O jersey. I’ll have to clean his Tavares jersey. I think he spilled beer on the front during a tense moment. He is crossing his fingers and toes but remains realistic. We have only yet begun to fight. Or something like that.
I would happily trot on down to the Big Smoke to watch a game or get caught up in the hoopla of a win, but watching game after game on the television, just isn’t the same for me. In person, it’s a different ball game…er, hockey game. It’s lively and entertaining. You can hear the skates on the ice and the sweariness of the players. You can cheer with the crowd and feel a part of the game. At home, I fall asleep after the first period.
As a Canadian, I’m failing at our national pastime. I hope I don’t get kicked out of the country or banned from participating in Canadian things. I’ll dress the dog in her hockey jersey and pretend to root for the team…when I’m awake. I’ll drink beer and say ‘eh. I’ll put little Canadian flags in my garden on July 1st and only buy Canadian maple syrup…and stuff. That should guarantee me a place in my country, even if I suck at hockey trivia, right?
If the Leafs manage to pull off some wins, maybe I’ll get more excited. If not for them, but for Hubby. After all, he has cheered for them for more than 32years and will continue to do so even if they suck. I’ve seen him swear at them and cheer for them. It can get pretty sweary and loud at our house during the playoffs. I hope he can see them finally win the big cup.
Let’s Go Leafs!
There. That should do it. They’re practically a shoo-in now!
You. Are. Welcome.
Go Leafs Go! Mags cheers for anyone who gives her snacks.
I’m not sure if I accomplished anything worthwhile besides trying to convince Hubby he should start packing for our trip. We leave in a week. He’s still trying to decide what to wear. And to complicate matters, we are only packing a carry on. For a two-week vacation. Aside from that, I think I managed to clean the main floor of the house and do a half-assed job at making one dinner, but I think I’ll run down my week, if for no other reason, to make you feel better about yourself. Because even if you got out of bed without hurting yourself or disturbing the dog, you had a banner week! Go you!
10. I drank a lot on Friday night in front of company who have never seen me drunk before and now I think I’ve scared them off. Or at least, had them rethinking their options to be in my company for future drinking. I may send them a greeting card apologizing for my ill-timed nodding off and pretending I wasn’t drunk. Is there a card for that? I need a card for that.
9. I took credit for fixing the dog. She had a red swollen mass develop inside her eye. After much debating and Google-ing and asking our breeder’s opinion, we concluded she had cherry eye. Mags is 10 years old, and those things don’t happen in older dogs. Breeder Lady told me how to massage the eye in hopes the mass would pop back into place. (it’s referred to as their third eye and can pop out when poked or injured. Or for no good reason at all, like it feels like making an appearance so go ahead and deal with it, bitch) After massaging the area for a few times on Saturday, we awoke Sunday to find Mags back to normal. For Mags, ‘normal’ is up for debate. I’m taking credit for her return to her original state. And for not panic-dialing the vet and sobbing on the phone that my dog was deformed by an unknown entity.
8. I went shopping with Hubby multiple times only for him to debate the return of all the new clothes to which I eye-rolled. I also witnessed the trying on of every article of clothing he owned to decide if they were worthy of vacation space and drawer space. He ended up culling drawers and forming multiple piles of clothes of which are to be further determined where they should go. A truly enjoyable experience akin to stabbing oneself in the eyes with cocktail forks. Okay, that’s a little over-the-top even for me, but I’ve had better experiences in line at a grocery store. A really long line. Like back to the back of the store line, where someone is still trying to pay with nickels and forgot to pick up the salad dressing, so the cashier makes a pithy call to the stock kid to go find it, to discover that it has sold out, so now there is only the crappy kind left. That line.
7. I tried to feign my way out of saying I didn’t know something when really, I did know and when asked repeatedly if I knew, I tried to keep up the good fight and say, ‘of course I don’t know!’ until I caved and spilled my guts and confessed, and then it got awkward. Until it didn’t. And the thing I knew was a good thing, but I wasn’t supposed to know the thing, but now I think everyone knows the thing, so now everyone is happy to know. You know?
6. Son requested I send pictures of him when he was young and in hockey. Hubby found some and I got into seeing his face when he was little and then I lamented how fast everyone has grown up and how old I am, which then led to remembering I am a grandmother and then I wanted to day drink. But I resisted and had coffee in my Best Grandmother Ever mug and I felt better.
5. I went to the dentist to have a cleaning, only I couldn’t because I had a hip replacement seven months ago and needed to take antibiotics before having any dental procedure. This information would have been advantageous to know before hijacking daughter to drive me there and back and then to work. Son had the car this week and I’m SOL for independently arriving to appointments and trivial things like work, so payback is awesome when Mommy needs to go to the liquor store at 9am to buy wine! Drive Daughter, drive!
4. I work in an environment where being quiet is paramount. I had students testing last week and decided I needed lunch. I was returning from heating my soup when I opened the door so expertly stealth, I even surprised myself. I was congratulating myself on my silent manoeuvres when I dropped a glass jar, sending it crashing against the door causing a loud bang to which I laughed out loud and slammed the door. The soup survived. The students were alerted to my awkward entrance. There. Perfect.
3. Apparently, there was a big hockey game on Saturday night, and it was a nail biter and exciting, except I slept through the entire thing and even when Hubby tried to wake me up to tell me how great it was, I nodded and went back to sleep. I wonder if this is how it will be when a big event suddenly happens like the world is set to explode or a big sale happens at Marshall’s. I’ll say, “yeah, yeah, I’m sleeping here,” and miss the whole thing. Maybe I need an alarm clock that can tell me when I’m missing a big event and slap me into consciousness. Don’t let me sleep through the big Marshall’s sale, please.
2. I’ve been trying to decide what to wear on the plane. Everyone is saying to dress comfortably, but for me that’s sweatpants, a hoodie, and my hair in a ponytail. I don’t think that will cut it going to Europe. Pajama pants? If they’re pretty? Ah, if only I could wear that and my slippers it would take the word ‘comfortable’ to a whole new level. I could take a squish-mallow and my eye mask. A blankie? Ugh. I guess I’ll wear pants.
1. Before Mags came down with an eye from the Zombies of the Apocalypse, I referred to her as an asshole a couple of times. Then when her eyeball looked like it grew a twin, I felt guilty, and that the Universe was punishing me for calling my companion an asshole. She is the one thing in the house with a heartbeat who lives to see me walk through the door and who doesn’t criticize my cooking. And who tolerates my ridiculous need to put a book in front of my face instead of rubbing her belly, like a proper human should. But, in my defense, she was barking at the other dogs in the ‘hood for no good reason. And then promptly shit all over the floor. Asshole. Face it, she was embarrassing the family and I was forced to call her out on it. Now that she has recovered, I feel less like an asshole myself and more like the loving companion she deserves.
Until tomorrow when she barks at the neighbours and shits on the floor. Asshole.
A recovered Mags. Her eye twin has retreated, until I call her an asshole again. Ugh.
Kayjai 