Goose bumps…
Last night I watched the first and second period of the Canucks game at the Charlatan with Frank and Piper,
while Prudence worked on her X-files…
As I sat there sipping on my Snake Bite,
I reflected on the year and how last November I thought I must be dying,
by December I knew I had died one hundred times,
and by January 2009 I started keeping my eye on the Canucks…
You just never know where life is going to take you,
and with what speed…
I’ve just opened a virtual savings account called,
Build it and they will come…
The other night,
as we watched the Canucks play the Blackhawks,
Starshine, Little Gem and I were reminiscing,
about how last year we didn’t know the name and number,
of a single player on the roster,
and now we do…
We also have some basic knowledge,
and growing opinions,
about ownership…
As Piper drew pictures for her Mama,
on the notice for parent-teacher meeting,
s that I was supposed to return to school a few days ago,
Frank and I discussed how Kyle Wellwood was scoring better last season,
with the chubby cheeks he developed from sitting by the pool,
and eating chips,
while he healed himself…
Then the corporation messed with him,
by getting him all fit for this season,
rather than just letting him find his best form naturally…
It so enraged me to read that,
Kyle was resisting the urge to change his game in an attempt to snap his slump (bzeimer… Van Sun… Nov.19),
that I nearly asphyxiated myself on the arm of a gingerbread man,
in the basement bazaar at Hycroft Manor…
I tried that in Toronto when I wasn’t scoring…
I tried to change the way I played…
I ended up being a minus on the season,
so I can’t change too much about my game…
Buddy,
that was T.O,
this is NOW…
You’re playing in Supernatural B.C…
One of the great things about being a teacher in this province is that,
despite the fact that we were legislated into a union by the government (smooth move Exlax),
we are considered professionals,
and that means we have the professional autonomy,
for better or for worse,
to articulate mandated curriculum in the best way that we know how,
for the students we are hired to work with…
Not all teachers enact their role or see students this way,
because we have forgotten that without a student,
there is no teacher…
Just like without a hockey player there is no coach,
no management,
no owner,
no fans…
and no NHL…
So Kyle,
when I checked in on things this morning I noticed that you scored a goal in the third period…
Great work…
I didn’t see that coming so soon for you but I’m glad that it did…
Now let’s review…
You’re a fully intact professional hockey player…
As far as I know there isn’t any language in professional contracts,
that allow management to castrate their players,
but it is always your responsibility to read the fine print before you sign up for anything…
As a professional you have every right to be your own guy out there on the ice,
as long as you remember that you are an individual who is part of a collective…
Civil libertarian principles hold no power in this quantum field…
I’ve done my own research,
I know enough about you,
and I don’t have any concerns about you being a team player…
In fact you are one of the only Canadians in the league that I’d let babysit my kids…
So go out there,
and show them what you’re made of…
When Starshine was five we were sitting down to some southern comfort of ribs,
baked potatoes,
and coleslaw,
when she said,
You know Mama, I’m not your Barbie…
With a bone in my throat I asked her what she meant,
rhetorically,
because I already knew…
Well at Papa’s house I get to choose my own clothes,
but when I’m at your house you always dress me…
More choking on a bone,
heavy sweating,
arrhythmia…
It’s like this,
there are two kids and only one doll…
One of the kids is always getting to dress the doll,
and the other kid wants a turn…
I know this is hard for you so I have a suggestion…
How about every night you choose three outfits and I’ll pick one of those,
then we’ll both be getting what we want…”
Earth to Kyle:
Despite what Scotty Rintoul says about local fortune tellers and mystics,
with all due respect,
I saw it coming,
and I see more…
But you have to continue to listen to your second brain,
and be fully prepared to say,
I don’t think so…
You can go your own way...
Brown sugar…
Earth to self: Do NOT leave home without a camera,
pen,
notebook,
and a white bikini,
in your purse…
Last night I walked out of the Hycroft Centre after a 90 minute massage…
The ventilation system in the tiny little room was blowing like the North wind…
Off and on the whole time I was laying on the table,
being worked over,
and under,
and through…
I left that space,
and some magic hands,
headed down South Granville past 15th,
on my way back to my Swedish station wagon parked on Fir Street…
Granville felt deserted…
Rush hour was over…
It was dark,
and rainy…
Suddenly a unmarked police car came careening up towards me…
A police officer stepped out of the vehicle…
I looked around for the scene of a crime,
but all I saw was a tree laying in the carpool lane…
I said,
in my sweetest sugary little voice,
Officer…
Are you going to give that tree a ticket for obstruction of justice???
He didn’t really know what to say,
but decided to go along with it…
He asked,
all gruff and tough,
Should I???
I said,
I’m going to leave the decision in your hands…
I don’t like to mess with the laws around here…
I walked up to the base of the tree,
expecting to see some exposed roots…
But the tree looked like it had been sliced off the sidewalk…
I looked up to see a white delivery truck missing a side-view mirror,
which was the place of impact with tree…
And I saw the a driver…
The driver and I stood looking,
at the tree,
together…
I asked him,
How’s your driving???
Driver said,
I’ve seen better days…
I think the tree was dead…
Look,
no roots…
I said,
You’re right…
It looks like it fell over…
Just like that…
I asked,
Do you feel bad???
He said,
Yes, I do…
I said,
It’s okay…
It was obviously time for the tree to let go…
You probably saved someone’s life…
Imagine if that tree had fallen over in traffic,
or on a parked car…
In fact when you pull back,
and really look at the whole situation,
your timing is better than perfect…
Driver smiled on one side of his face…
I said,
It’s okay to cry…
You’ll feel better after…
Driver smiled on the other side of his face…
Police officer took down license plate,
and necessary statistics,
trying to get all of the facts straight in his notebook…
Radioing in to headquarters…
Adam-12 we have a 3-11-W in the southbound lane…
I walked on,
and wondered about another one down…
A little less carbon dioxide being filtered out of this SUV world…
I hoped that Tree would end up as climbing apparatus in a school playground,
or as fuel for a sweat lodge…
Together we climbed hills and trees…Learned of love and ABC's...
The General’s shower…
This afternoon I went to a charity event in my city…
for the first time…
And as we all know from hockey,
timing is everything,
especially when you’re waiting to sit on Santa’s lap…
I spent quite a bit of time in the children’s Christmas craft room,
up on the second floor…
In the craft room there is a closed door…
I asked if I could sneak a peak,
into that space behind the door…
The lady in charge said,
No!!!
It isn’t open…
Something must have happened in there last year…
You can’t go inside…
I never take no for an answer…
I worked her over a bit with my dumb clown routine,
and before I could say Bob’s my grandfather,
Tah Dah,
open sesame…
Clue #1:
Life is a highway...
Silly Rabbit,
this has nothing to do with beer…
Clue #2:
I'll stand if you want me to...
Nope,
not a jail cell…
But you’re gettin’ warmer…
Clue #3:
When there's nothing here but my old piano...
I didn’t know that it was appropriate to use words like liver spray,
needle,
douche,
and bidet,
back in 1911,
let alone wash with them…
Clue #4:
Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell...
Silly Rabbit,
tricks are for kids…
Clue #5:
Is it magic that makes you appear???
And in through the saloon doors…
Don’t worry they are made of glass,
not smoke and mirrors…
These eyes cry every night for you...
This is NOT the Canuck’s locker room…
But I had a dream that I was in there once,
taking a look around…
Too smelly…
Just kidding…
Not enough yang…
Now I’m just goofin’ around…
Right next to the craft table,
a few inches from the DO NOT ENTER door,
there was a garbage bin…
And since I was already looking in all the wrong places,
I took a glance in there and pulled a dozen red roses,
and the Sports section out of the black hat…
Vancouver Canucks+H1N1=queue jumping???
Not a smooth move…
Note to Kyle Wellwood:
Buddy, Who’s Your Daddy is losing patience in this performance-based business…
I have no idea how professional hockey works but the other day I was over at Frank and Prudence’s house flipping through a book on hockey plays, and I got all weak in the knees…
Some might call this too hippie for hockey,
but if I may suggest,
as a prophylactic to you getting benched for not producing,
ask for a dream to help you figure out what you need to do on the ice,
and just when you are falling asleep,
ask yourself to remember the dream…
When you wake up,
make a note to self…
Then the next time you get a chance,
don’t resist,
just do it,
properly…
This may take some practice,
but you’ve got time,
and if you can figure out how to get into the NHL this should be a piece of cake…
And more importantly remember that you are playing your home games in a stadium that has been built on unceded territory,
in a jersey sporting a killer whale logo…
No image is neutral,
so use this power for good…
As part of your prescription for a playing a better game you may want to consider having some conversations with Great Spirit,
in the name of recognition and respect…
You don’t have to tell anyone,
we can keep this our little secret…
Tell it to me slowly...
Canuck'd 