"On behalf of myself and Harold and the whole gang up here at Possum Lodge... keep your stick on the ice." - Red Green, The Red Green Show

So, today started as many others, mainly with me waking up. Heck, I guess if my standards are that low, that would be the same as every day. That’s a good thing, because to hit room temperature in my bedroom would mean I was about 50F. The Mrs. was extraordinarily kind and watched the boys until I could sleep no more, and I got up at a time that was so late I’m embarrassed to tell the whole Internet.

We then went out on our biggest quest for the day, namely watching hockey. Specifically, recreation league hockey. Now in San Diego, they might play rec league softball, but this is Alaska, and playing softball in temperatures like today, while possible, would be silly. Imagine connecting with a great pitch, only to watch your bat as well as your arms shatter due to the cold.

We packed up and drove off to watch our friend’s spouse play hockey. We watched their spouse scooting around on the ice like there were rockets attached to the skates. It was a wonderful game, although my friend’s team got spanked like a red-headed stepchild.

At the very end of the game, one of the players on my friend’s spouse’s team was fairly disgusted by the score, and slapped the puck away from the ref. A penalty. I talked to my friend, and they had played with that player on the co-ed team last year, and she had several times gotten a bit upset.

Oh, did I tell you we were watching a girl’s rec league team? Our friends were husband and wife, and they both played on hockey teams?

Yeah, that’s Alaska, too.

You might be surprised, but hockey is a sport that both husband and wife play up here in the north, and from time to time on the same team.

Most kids start playing hockey about age five or six. Why? Because if we were to wait for summer sports like soccer, we’d be waiting until June, and get to play until mid-August. And, because we have to wait long enough so that the hockey uniform suppliers make uniforms large enough for a four-year-old to wear.

The ice rink today was full from the early AM to the late PM with games. There are no fewer than three rinks that will be in a similar situation all day long, Saturday, Sunday, and all of the week nights. That’s a lot of people slapping a lot of pucks around.

As we watched our friend play, The Boy watched the players chasing the puck around with grace and sportsmanship (mostly). He looked up at The Mrs. and said, “I want to play hockey.”

Now that fills me with pride. Unfortunately, first he’ll have to learn to skate without clutching at the wall of the rink like Sharon Stone at a role other than “D.A.” or “Mom” in a Hollywood movie.

When they asked that bank robber (was it Willie Sutton?) why he robbed banks, he said, “Because that’s where the money is.”

Why do good hockey players come from places that touch the Arctic Circle?

Because that’s where the ice is.

So, we watched the end of the game, and The Boy was duly impressed by the skating. Unfortunately, that has other implications. I’ll have to get up and take him to go skate. Soon, he’ll be zipping around the ice like an electron about a hydrogen atom, and I’ll be clutching the wall like the old guy I am.

Heck, maybe one day I’d even be good enough to play for the girl’s team . . .