Friday, August 22, 2008

It's hockey night in ... Texas!

Hockey season has started again. Sasquatch had his first practice on Saturday. I think they must have been trying to weed out the wanna-be hockey moms from the die-hards, because we had to be at the rink from 7:00 am until noon. I know. Even God doesn't get up before 7:30.

Fortunately, I knew to bring the two things no die-hard hockey mom should ever be without: caffeine and chocolate. I had my 2-gallon Thermos of coffee (which I like to call, "Keg O' Pacemaker") and a bag of Oreos (which I like to call "Oreos"). 

It's kind of a shock to walk into a frosty ice rink after a summer in Tejas, which is Spanish for "five degrees cooler than Hell." My body didn't know whether to sweat, shiver, or have to pee. So I had a hot flash and accomplished all three.

We have a new team manager this season. Last year the position was filled by Perky Cheerleader Barbie Mom. I loved her, except for those mornings when we had 6:00 am games. The woman would literally be bouncing in the stands, filled with the sheer joy of all things hockey and children and sunrise. I just wanted to sit on her, and follow that up by whacking her on the head with my Keg O' Pacemaker.

Anyway. This year's team manager is Number Cruncher Goalie Mom. She's not perky, but lemme tell you, if you need someone to beat up a referee behind the rink after a game, she's your go-to-girl. If you know anything at all about hockey, you know not to mess with a goalie mom, because she might be even crazier than her goalie kid.

Ask anyone who's been around ice hockey for a while - goalies are different. They're a weird subset of humans. You've probably heard the expression, "His elevator doesn't go all the way to the top." Well, a goalie's elevator goes to the top - and out the roof. Goalies are intense, and about half a puck away from being criminally insane. It's really a good thing that doping isn't a big problem in the NHL, because goaltenders would take 'roid rage to a whole new level. If a skater stepped in the crease, that goalie would rip the dude's face cage out with his teeth, and then eat it like a Triscuit.

I haven't met all of the other parents yet, but I do know that Dr. Dad's kid is on the team again this year. I like Dr. Dad. He's smart, and funny, and he uses an Apple computer. I use an Apple. We Apple groupies users think alike. We all want our daughters to marry a guy who works at the Genius Bar.

As is his custom, Sasquatch grew several inches over the summer, which meant that he needed new hockey equipment. I really need to find out if that compost heap of socks & underwear in his room is giving off growth hormones or something. 

New skates, size 13: $500!! You'd think that for that price, they'd come with an iPod dock, a built-in ice level digital video camera, and some Flubber in the heel cup. But no. All I know is, when the season's over, I am not throwing those skates out. Maybe I'll make a purse out of 'em. Oh, wait, I know. I'll send them to China. The Chinese gymnasts can use them for 3-bedroom apartments.


Chris said...

Oreos...i like to call them little sandwich cookies of joy...

40winkzzz said...

Thoughts while reading this...

(1) I'll stick with football, thank you. Four nights a week of practice at dinnertime beats being somewhere at 7 am any day.

(2) If you don't already, you REALLY need to go read Lidna at . She is the only blogger I have ever read who is as funny as you.

(3) Size 13? Everything really IS bigger in Texas. Except that Spaz has a 13-y/o friend whose mom wasn't sure she should sign him up for football b/c she wasn't sure they'd be able to find size 14 cleats. That's the West Michigan Dutch factor. Good thing all those Hollanders don't live in Texas; the combination of Dutch genes & TX soil would render them all 6'11" tall and wearing size 19 shoes and covering up their pretty blonde heads with 28-gallon hats.

(4) I really should be writing a birthday post on my own blog instead of writing novels in other peoples' comment sections. But between bday party and too much late-night Olympic viewing, I'm too brain-dead to be original today.

(5) Think I'll go refill my cup o' pacemaker.

lillinda said...

"My body didn't know whether to sweat, shiver, or have to pee. So I had a hot flash and accomplished all three."
I've been there, unfortunately. This has just became my favorite quote of all time ! You got me rolling with that one. Laughing so hard, I'm waking Grumpy up !
love ya, girl

Kelley said...

7 A.M.... I have to say now I'm hoping I never have a hockey player in the house. I don't do 7 A. M.

cassydoodle said...

I thought of you when I saw this. :)

cassydoodle said...

Oops.. sorry about that.

Just copy and paste this link. ;)

PS: Magoo says "Thank You" for the virtual dog treat.

bubbebobbie said...

Woo Hoo, Guess what! As a Hockey Mom you are well on your way to being Mayor of Dirtville!
Because of Jesus, Bobbie

sandi said...

I just wanted to respond to Kelly's comment (7 a.m. hockey = not for her...)..

I can do you even better..I've got a competitive swimmer, and he is required to be at the pool at 6 a.m. 5 days a week ALL SUMMER LONG, and at 9 a.m. on Saturdays. For 2 1/2 or 3 hours.
Oh, and if he really WANTS to, he can practice TWICE a day, 5 or 6 days a week. From 6-8:30a.m, AND 6-8:30p.m. (this does not even take into account the swim meets that take up your Friday night/Saturday and meet can take place over the entire 3 days. No, I am not lying about this. I swear.)

Something is wrong with this picture. Maybe his Brazilian swim coach is really a crazy hockey goalie mom incognito. Just sayin'.