Ice Hockey Doesn’t Require a Fork

I don’t follow sports, sports follows me. The sports page is everywhere, the kitchen counter, the bathroom floor and ESPN is a permanent fixture. My life is infiltrated by the sports drama du jour and currently it’s the Stanly Cup Playoffs.



Bruins center, Patrice Bergeron



Normally I would feign interest in ice hockey but this year the playoff games have been unavoidably riveting, like a bad train wreck. In game one, the Vancouver Canuck’s forward Alex Burrows bit the finger of Boston Bruin’s center, Patrice Bergeron. Who does that? There were visible bite marks on Bergeron’s finger. The brawl was a channel changer for me. Stanley Cup or not, I can’t watch cannibalism disguised as ice hockey.



I would like to point out that a grown man gnawed on another man’s finger and wasn’t even suspended from the game. I knew a little boy who was permanently excused from preschool for biting. My son bit my daughter exactly one time. I put him in a very long timeout and took away his favorite toy – forever. Burrows didn’t even get a timeout in the penalty box. I assumed it was universally understood that biting, hitting and kicking was unacceptable. I thought as a responsible parent it was my duty to insure that my son never bit again or he would surely be suspended from preschool. Little did I know that this skill would actually serve him well as a professional ice hockey player?

I wish I could say that the biting incident was the only moment of gore during these playoff games but the players continuously slammed each other into the boards like barbarians. Bruins player, Nathan Horton left the ice in a horizontal position, strapped to a stretcher in game three after Canucks player Aaron Rome knocked him onto the ice with an illegal hit. Now Horton can’t say “who” and thankfully Rome has been suspended for four games (I would have taken his car keys for a year). Why can’t the players leave their extra-curricular aggression out back in the parking lot and play hockey on the ice?



The on-ice violence has been so unappetizing that I’ve actually lost weight over the course of the playoff games. Who could possibly drink beer and eat wings when players are trying to inflict permanent wounds and eat each other’s fingers? What is going on in the world of ice hockey? Are the players having problems at home? I simply can’t believe that all of these men were improperly reared by irresponsible parents.

I would suggest anger management training but I think at this stage they all need to go back to kindergarten. Lesson one: don’t run with scissors. Lesson two: clean up your toys. Lesson three: don’t hit, kick or bite.

Sports may have taken up residence in my home, but ice hockey has been permanently ejected.
Boston Globe article does justice to Patrice



The Father’s Day gift that keeps on giving

The challenge of yet another gift giving holiday – the present. What is an appropriate present on father’s day? I’ve already given the tie, the tie rack, the picture frame, the mug – you name it’s been wrapped and offered up as the gift above all others. This father’s day, beyond the heartfelt, thoughtfully crafted card made by the children in less than 90 seconds, I was stumped for ideas.

And then I landed on an idea so brilliant, so original, even I was impressed with myself. I spared no cost and gave the gift of life. Yes, you guessed it – kittens. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. The trusting relationship between an animal and owner is priceless. Pet owners will tell you that the memory of a loved pet lives on in the annals of the family history forever. Pets punctuate the passage of time. Many families have a story that begins with “Do you remember when we got our cat fluffy?” What father wouldn’t want kittens on Father’s Day?

Armed with these arguments, the children and I trooped down to the Humane Society for a look-see. The Humane Society is cleaner and nicer than my daughter’s old daycare. The volunteers are some of the nicest people in the world and should really be assigned to the Naples visitor center to greet tourists. People would be moving here in droves if the Humane Society staff was represented as the average Naples citizen. How could we not adopt two kittens from Dottie, the lovely volunteer? If I could have adopted Dottie as my Aunt, I would have taken her home as well.

There was no way my children could keep two kittens a secret so we didn’t bother to wait until the actual date of father’s day to present our gift. The secret lasted exactly two hours as we waited impatiently for him to come home from work. My husband innocently opened the door, walked across the threshold and was greeted with shrieks of delight. “Happy Father’s Day Daddy, we got you kittens!” He stood stunned and motionless as the children pushed a box of kittens across the floor towards his feet. He walked into the never used living room, slumped down on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. I have never seen that look on his face before and I have known him for over twenty years. I chose to interpret his expression as extreme glee and behaved as if we had just given him a Rolex watch.

I recently read an advertisement for a DVD that could change my whole life for only $19.99. The ad said “if you believe it will happen, you can make it come true.” I didn’t pay $19.99 but I decided to try the philosophy anyway. I believed that my husband was thrilled with his gift, knowing that it would soon be true. The children enthusiastically detailed the litany of kitten names under consideration, “Doodads, Pop Tart, Sprinkles, Fluffy” and finally agreed upon “Cupcakes” and “Pickles.”  My daughter plopped Pickles, a black fluffy kitten in my husband’s lap and said “look Daddy, she loves you!” My husband stared blankly at all of us and said “Do we have kittens? Are we keeping these kittens?” All of us squealed “yes” and I said “Aren’t they adorable? Don’t you just want to snuggle them?” His silence was deafening. 

How could he possibly dampen the happiness of his hopeful wife and excited children with his true response which I suspect wasn’t extreme glee. Finally he said, “Yes, they are adorable, I love my present.” A father’s love is the gift that keeps on giving. Happy Father’s Day.

Public Relations

It is an unwritten rule that friendly chit chat is acceptable in any public space from the grocery store to the waiting room at the dentist’s office. Let’s all agree however, on one place where social interaction is not allowed under any circumstances – the Hospital emergency room. It is public space, but no one goes there voluntarily. Everyone, even the kid with the broken arm looks contagious. All form of contact between should be avoided, the more buffer space between each patient the better.

I was recently, involuntarily at the emergency room when who should walk in but my husband’s boss. I slumped down in my chair so low that my body was parallel to my seat. I needed a magazine to cover my face and as luck would have it, there were none in the vicinity. I covered my eyes with my hands as if I was in extreme pain and the woman two seats away from me loudly said “Oh look at that.” I ignored her. Then she stood up, walked over to the window, turned directly to me and said “look at this, you have to come see this, a helicopter has landed.” As quiet as a church mouse I said, “oh really?” in hopes that this would assuage her desire to engage in idle chit chat. I quickly grabbed my mobile phone and called my husband. He wasn’t there so I left a voicemail, hung up and then continued to talk as if I was in a very serious private discussion. The woman stopped talking to me and from the corner of my eye it appeared that my husband’s boss didn’t notice me. Then, my phone rang. Yes, the very same phone on which I was having the pretend conversation. Every head in the waiting room turned as a nurse pointed to a sign and loudly said “do not use your cell phone in the patient area.” I was so red in the face I probably looked like I had a high fever or at the very least a life threatening rash. There was no avoiding his boss. I looked directly at him and said “Hi, I have a really bad rash.”

All of this could have been avoided if the universal law of no communication in the emergency room were in place. I would hereby like to introduce the emergency room involuntary patient anti-socialization law. If a person as social as me supports this law, then surely it will pass through congress without contest.