Yes, nearly five hours of ice hockey for one game. Not being much of a sports fan, for me to sit through any sporting event for a length of time is unusual, but for some reason I kind of enjoy hockey. I don’t pretend to understand much about it; it’s some ice, some big dudes on skates, a little bitty thing they smack around (the puck, and oftentimes an opposing player), and some goals to score. I recognise when a team is doing well and simple rules of play are fairly evident if one applies oneself to viewing a few solid minutes of the game. I’d say my yearly ice hockey fix was satisfied within one evening and conveniently bundled into one game. I had nearly six full periods of regional championship hockey to observe tonight and am pleased to say that finally! someone won. It happened to be the Wisconsin Badgers over Cornell. Now the Badgers go to the “Frozen Four” for the first time since 1992. This evening’s game was also the second longest regional confrontation. I know these things because I listened to the empty-headed announcers prattle on for nearly five hours. The ability to tune them out went in waves, and some of what they said made it past my ears and into my brain. Don’t worry, they’ll be replaced by a catchy cat food jingle or something shiny soon enough. That’s the beauty of ADD…
This concludes my sports reporting.
After the hockey, I settled into that whirlpool in my hotel room I was telling you about yesterday. It’s a corner unit in the main area of the room. It rocks. Although it’s too noisy to watch TV and have the jets on simultaneously, I went through the motions anyway. How could I not?
Oh – as I recap the day – I learned something interesting about the American food I once loved: I can’t eat it anymore. This morning Jodi, Aaron and I met up at the Denny’s restaurant next door to the hotel and I decided to give the French Toast and a side of hashbrowns a go. Mmmm… it was good until it went horribly wrong. I have never in my life had to excuse myself from a table and urgently (yet cooly) rush to the bathroom for fear of reversing that which I just ate. I can only guess the grease of the hashbrowns recognised my bran and soy fed body and decided to have a little fun. Bastards. I don’t know if perhaps it was the brisk walk to the loo or the deterrent state of the public toilet that cured me, but the feeling subsided and I returned to the table without incident. I fear that may be the last time I have hashbrowns. Somewhere, a trumpet plays Taps for a bygone era of my life.
Other things I did today included: walked Ollie (the bull terrier) in the park, and learned all about how numerology can be used for TV evangelism. (Did you know that you can spell your way to 666 with nearly anything if you put your mind to it? I shall have to post more about this absurdity another time. I took pictures of the TV show just to share with you.)
I’m off to do a bit of last minute homework as I wind down for sleep. Tomorrow sees one of the main reasons I’m back in Wisconsin at this time of year: tax time. This should be the last income tax I file in the US. With any luck, I’ll get a return. That would be swell.