#Lockout Problems

The question we get asked most often these NHL lockout days is, “So how are you doing with no hockey?”

And while I cannot legally comment on any specifics, I can reply with a resounding, “NOT WELL.”

I give you a text message conversation between my husband and I on a night when instead of working a game against the New York Islanders, he decided to “help” at home with the two middle children while I took our youngest to a birthday party.

Me: So what do you have planned tonight?

Him: Just ordering a movie and pizza.

Me: Cool.

10 minutes later

Him: What’s your social security number?

Me: What do you need that for?????

Him: I’m trying to order a Pay-Per-View movie and it’s not working.

Me: Why isn’t it working?

Him: I don’t know why it’s not $%&^#* working--you sound like the operator that just hung up on me twice.

Me: I appreciate your frustration sir, how can I help.

Him: If you tell me there are 9 customers in front me, I’m filing for divorce.

Four minutes later..

Me: Did it get fixed?

Him: Text Matty, I’m using my cell phone to straighten out the pizza order.

Me: I’ll just call the house phone.

Him: Don’t--I’m still on hold with the cable company.

Me: What’s wrong with the pizza order?

Him: I made the mistake of ordering cinnamon “sticks” and they only serve cinnamon “rounds.” 

Me: Why does that matter?

Him: It doesn’t unless you’re Archimedes. Which is what I’m trying to explain to them if you’d quit texting me.

20 minutes later

Him: Hey, remember that time last summer when we ordered a pizza and had it delivered to the community pool?

Me: Um, yeah??

Him: So does Papa John because that’s where they delivered our pizza.

Me: It’s November. The pool is closed.

Him: Well, some Tennessee penguins are enjoying some cinnamon rounds right now.

Me: Good thing it’s the rounds--I hear sticks are bad for penguins.

Him: I know where Papa John can stick his cinnamon right about now.

8 minutes later after a panicked text from my son.

Me: Is everything ok?

Him: Yes, dear, why do you ask?

Me: Well, your son just sent me a text saying you were swearing at the lady on the phone. He said you needed “parental control?”

Him: That’s exactly what I exercised when the cable company wouldn’t lift our parental controls and let us order a movie tonight. 

Me: I’m on my way home.

Him: No rush,  we are watching a movie on the computer.

Me: ?

Him: I told them to stick their cable box where the cinnamon don’t shine.

Me: Uh oh.

Him: We are getting a satellite dish on Monday.

Me: I hope they carry the NHL Network.

2 minutes later.

Him: @#$%^%

I repeat: NOT WELL. Please send hockey.

©Tracey Henry 2012

Smashmob

As I asserted on Twitter last Tuesday, I think most of society's problems can be solved with a well-executed flash mob.

This proves that theory. This Smash Mob was one of the coolest things I've ever been a part of in my many years on this planet.

A Lottawa fun in Ottawa

An exasperated, “Why do all of our vacations turn out like this?” Is not the way any weekend should begin.

This was uttered from my oldest as we sat in customs filling out a lost bag report from a foreign city not on our original itinerary as we pushed Matty in a wheelchair after our flight was cancelled.

Sometimes it doesn’t occur to me that things go horribly wrong some days. Stevie was still fighting his concussion, Jessie had an ear infection, Matty had twisted his ankle the night before and our connecting flight to Ottawa for the NHL All-Star weekend was cancelled upon arriving in Washington. I guess I considered ourselves ahead of the game that despite all of those events, we made it all together.



Nor did I know at that time what a fabulous time we would have. Sure, I knew it was going to be fun--we sort of love these kinds of things--but each event was just so enjoyable together, that every inconvenience was sort of eclipsed. We pushed Matty’s wheelchair through the snow and ice-packed streets of Ottawa taking in all of the sites. We attended the parties, the games, the events. We made fun in between and just kind of took it all in stride.



There were players, and mascots and Prime Ministers. There were old friends, new friends, and laughter. There was, “Did you see who that was?” and bad imitations of Canadian accents are higher math calculations on the exchange rate.



But we were all together.

And on that last morning packing up way too much luggage and a ton of memories over the last 48 hours, I couldn’t help but think, “I love that all of our vacations turn out like this.”

Because we hate cancer and love the playoffs

Beard-a-thon, Baby!


Some good has to come out of this beard thing-- vote for Sean's beard and/or pledge some $ to help fight cancer if you can.

P.S. If you love the playoffs, hate cancer and have a particular fondness for Yukon Cornelius, then make another vote for the Intern's beard.....

http://www.beardathon.com/predators/dannyb/profile.aspx