Why have a birthDAY when you can have...

(for my hockey team, the inspirational reminder...)

My Fellow Dragons:

In honour of Birthday Week, my kind, lovely wife allowed me to have a three and a half hour nap this afternoon.

(Okay, it may also have been due to me getting up with her yesterday at six a.m. to drive her into Toronto (in the rain) so she could be at work for 8:30 when I didn't have to be in until 9:30.  And it may have been because she then got to sleep on the drive home as I drove in DVP/404 Friday traffic, in the foggy rain, with the sense that a sinister succubus was tailgating my soul the entire way.  So -- nap on the way into work + sleep on the way home = nap for Kevin on Saturday afternoon.  Or it might have been the fact that she has final accepted the celebration known as Birthday Week.)

For those uninitiated and unaware of the wonders of Birthday Week, it is the natural and at times necessary extension of the birthDAY celebration into a week-long bonanza of birthday goodness.

As an illustration, last week my lovely wife and I were at a store and she made a joke at my expense, to which I exclaimed, "Whoa!  Hold it!  Birthday week!  You can't say that!"

My patient, lovely wife then explained to the cashier that it was my birthday on Sunday and somehow I felt entitled to a week-long celebration.  I then explained to the cashier that when one's birthday is so close to Christmas and New Year's that people tend to lose sight of it, Birthday Week is a natural response.

My wife looked at the cashier for support.  The cashier responded quite calmly, "I celebrate Birthday Month."  My wife was speechless and looked aghast at the thought.  

The truth of the matter is this: I believe if you meet the right person at the right time, that stranger's birthday gluttony can make my mere birthday indulgence look reasonable in comparison.  I believe that the notion of Birthday MONTH has cemented the significantly more manageable Birthday WEEK into an annual January event.
Thank you greedy cashier lady for my making my tiny and yet petulant pouts of self-centred egotism look acceptable.  Without people like you, my birthday would only last for a day.

GENTLEMEN...

Alas, today is in fact the last day of Birthday Week.  So on Sunday there will be no reason to service me with the tremendous hockey pleasure I was given last week.

Last week was a birthday hockey present unlike any I have received before: a 11-6 shellacking delivered to our opponents -- a game where almost every player on the ice managed to get a point on the game sheet (sorry Sean), a game where Brent scored six goals and then offered to donate three of them to me so I could have a birthday hat trick, a game where the third period saw dogs sleep with cats, Charlie Brown finally kick the football, defensemen play forward and forwards drop back to defence -- all without causing any kind of birthday, Epiphany-iotic apocalypse.  Well done, gentlemen; well done.

This week we leave the beauty of the MC Centre behind us as we head to the much-much smaller, much-much dingier Rinx 1.

There, on the infamous 'girl rink' we will battle the Jets -- a team that we beat after coming back from a 1-4 deficit to win 7-5.  

Is anyone expecting a victory like last week's? -- oh gawd, I hope not.  I am hard-pressed to remember a previous Dragons victory like last Sunday's game.  I think it's been done *to* us, but I don't recall us delivering such a spanking to another team.  And a six game unbeaten streak? I can't remember that, either.  But as the Cajun French say, "Laissez les bons temps rouler."

Sunday early evening in Rinx 1.  

Mark is out for a bit (appendectomy and then the flu will do that to a guy -- heal up, dude!) but I hope everyone else is in non-surgical, non-vomitous good health.

Let us know if you cannot attend.  

Otherwise, let the non-Birthday Week year continue with Dragons joy!

All the best,

Kevin.

Birthday with Dragons

 (Another hockey greeting for my patient and indulging team.  They were kind enough to take me out for drinks after our dazzling victory.)

My Fellow Dragons:

So I'm sitting at Starbucks, not in the comfy chair, but instead I am perched on a tall chair at a tall table and able to look down upon the other customers and smile silently and smugly as I enjoy my position of self-inflated superiority.

Bob Dylan whaling on the coffeeshop's playlist? -- He can't ruin my mood.

The books staring at me on the bookstore's shelf -- "Why Won't Men Ask For Directions?", "Is There Male Menopause?"' "Why Do Men Leave the Seat Up?", "Can You Have Too Much Sex?", the obligatory shortest title "Does Size Matter?", and finally "How Do Men Think?" -- all try to undermine my undeserved seat of power.  All fail in their reverse-misogynistic attempts to spoil my mood of caffeinated enhanced delight.

Three reasons for my happiness...

1. My eyes are fine. There is no glaucoma, but I should go for another test in two years.

2. The car passed its emissions test and the renewal sticker has been obtained. 

3.  It's just a cyst. Nothing to worry about. Not testicular cancer or anything like that. Just a cyst.

Three friggin' great pieces of news. 

Oh, and, AND even with tomorrow's birthday I will still have my final toe in the much desired 18-49 demographic so every time I watch "The Good Wife", "Elementary", "Fringe" and "Archer", Nielsen is begging to suck the juice out of my much valued eyeballs to confirm their tv viewership for advertisers. So I still have that going for another 12 months.

And yesterday my lovely wife asked what I want to do for next year's first dates/ways to leave your lover/Labatt/shades of grey celebration.

(Do you want to know how fiercely Canadian I am? -- when I was percolating on that list the other day, the number of US states did not even cross my mind. It wasn't until much later in the percolation process that I realized, "Oh yeah, American states."  Adam Sandler, Paul Simon and beer came first. So very Canadian.)

As of tomorrow, I am the same age as Captain Kirk in "Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan". And I think that my hair is way, way nicer than the toupee that Shatner was rockin' in that movie. Please don't tell me if you think otherwise; if it's an illusion, it's an illusion I will cling to by its roots.

Because tomorrow is in fact my birthday, but much, MUCH more important...

GENTLEMEN...

Dragons hockey! 

A five game unbeaten streak is carrying us into 2013. Five games of glorious undefeated joyous pleasure. If those games had been beautiful women, each and every one of them would have had a delightful "Oh My!" smile on her lips. 

Welcome to the new year!

To usher in this year of non-triskaidekaphobian wonderfulness, we will battle they of the unnecessary apostrophe, the Zulu's.

Last winter we were in the same division as the Zulu's and then we were moved above them. And (continuing this email's theme of undeserved smug superiority) although we are once again in the same division, we are still above them in so many, many ways:  better looking, better listeners, better at math and definitely more polite and respectful towards both women and young children.

Gentlemen, Sunday afternoon. Down at the MasterCard.

Welcome to 2013. My eyes, my car and my non-Shatner-esque hair all feel like its gonna be a good year.

I look forward to starting it off on the right skate with you.

Hope to see you there.

Dragons' farewell to 2012 (for Dan)

(This was to my hockey team at the tail end of last year.  Dan asked why I haven't written in awhile.  I can never recall whether "awhile" should be one word or two.  So, for Dan...)

My fellow Dragons:

Imagine the heartache and the tremendous sense of loss I felt yesterday when I dropped into my local steal-their-wi-fi Starbucks, only to discover that they had removed the comfy chair!

The comfy chair -- much coveted and much beloved -- gone from the Starbucks!  Replaced by a selection of much less comfortable, much less inviting chairs.

It was as if your favourite girl, she of the beautiful, quirky, crooked smile and gorgeous Grecian nose, had decided to have plastic surgery to correct nature's wonderful imperfection  and make her more common.

(Nuts, I gotta find out what time that comic book store in Barrie opens on Sundays.)

GENTLEMEN...

Sunday night we start the long goodbye as we bid adieu to 2012 and play our last game of the year.

Oh yeah, sure-sure, we gather again in 2013, on my birthday no less, but Sunday night is the last time we will do battle on this side of the new year.

(Because if the comic store opens at noon, the boys and I might be able to sneak a visit in before we head up to my folks. There's nothing I *need*, but there might be something I *want*.)

We will take to the ice to battle the Heat. And I'm torn between an analogy of (a) dowsing their flame, (b) chilling them out, (c) turning up the heat on the Heat, or (d) showing the Heat what it really means to be on fire.

I think I'm gonna stick with the last one. Cuz, holy flip floppetty frig -- and I do not want to jinx it (I really, really don't) -- but we are on fire!  My fellow Dragons, a four game winning streak?  Ummm, that is just deliciously delightfully darn great. Comment tu dis, holy flip floppetty frack!

(Y'see, my lovely wife isn't big on making additional stops on the way to someplace. She just wants to get there, and it stresses her out when we don't go directly to where we are going. Versus me, I figure there is often/usually/always time for one more quick stop. This brings me great pleasure, being able to squeeze one more thing into the trip; she, however, refers to this as "Death by bookstore.")

The game is at Rinx 1. And it is a late night game. So it is 100% understandable if you are unable to attend given the seasonal shenanigans that tend to occur this time of year. Just let us know which way the wind is blowing.

As for me, I'm 50/50 whether I will be able to attend. My lovely wife is in Montreal for the weekend, but my Sunday consists of driving up to Bracebridge for a late family lunch, leaving the family get-together early in order to drive back to Newmarket and grab my hockey equipment, driving down to Toronto to meet my wife at the train station, and then driving to the Rinx to play hockey while my best girl cheers us on.

Oh, and I gotta try to squeeze a visit into a comic book store, too.

Therefore if the planets align, I will be at the game. If they do not align -- well, at least the Mayan calendar was wrong.

So...

Please print out the team list from the truenorthhockey website in case I cannot attend.

But I do hope to see you there, for the final game of 2012.

All the best,
Kevin.