On Frozen Blog

Tonight I will miss my fifth Capitals’ home game just in calendar year 2009 because of a girl. It is possible that I missed a total of five home games the previous two seasons combined. When I say miss, I don’t mean watch at home instead of from the Verizon Center press box, or in delayed fashion from a DVR recording. I mean miss as in, forget about its even being contested, and logging on the following morning and finding out the result then.

In two of the first four AWOL instances, I wasn’t immersed in a romantic interlude with my Sweetie but merely at home the night after an outing with her, alone with my thoughts and engaging merely in intoxicating reverie. I lose sleep thinking about her, and subsequently on a fair number of mornings I go to work enormously fatigued. But it is the fatigue of the best kind.   

Tonight I am cooking dinner for Sweetie. Again, I will see no hockey. Yet I am happy. Most. I raced home from work last night to begin cleaning Chez pucks for her arrival. That effort went til near midnight. I awoke before 6:00 this morning to resume, get a haircut, pick up dry cleaning, and shop for the evening meal. [Tenderloin, joined by a Robert Craig Cabernet and lemon ginger sorbet]

You might ask, understandably: “Can’t you quickly and discretely get game updates from a BlackBerry while she pardons herself from the dinner table to use the restroom?” Indeed I could, but I won’t.  

I

am

ill

Very.

I save approximately 80 percent of the text messages she sends me, none of which ever detail line combinations. I haven’t even taken her on an ice skating date.

When I learn of sales on candles at Target I race up to fetch a basket full in the middle of second periods.

I
learned of Don Cherry’s attacks against first Alexander Ovechkin and
then Ted Leonsis only in the last few days, for while it is true that I had HNIC
on the past two Saturday nights, the TV was muted, as I was busy
composing love letters to Sweetie then.
 
Of course it wasn’t supposed to work out this way; were Eros and Aphrodite fair and compassionate they would smitten me during hockey’s offseason (but not near the Entry Draft).

If the American economy enjoys a recovery in 2009 it will be on the back of American candle makers. I like candles, a lot. But Sweetie loves them. And so my home these days is illuminated much like a 16th century monastery.

I figure some semblance of equilibrium and balance eventually will arrive in my life; most of my media colleagues are well partnered and able to handle deftly their professional and wooing duties.

This would really help hasten my return to my mistress hockey: a first round matchup between Pittsburgh and Philly.