In heaven there is no beer

I had the unique opportunity to see my husbando a lot this weekend. Since school started up again, we have relied on late night (when he's half-asleep and grumpy) and early morning (when I'm half-asleep and grumpy) communications. It works for the most part, even if the dog does get a second breakfast, which he doesn't mind a bit.

Last night I dropped a few things to go to a hockey game with Punky. I love the smell of the rink, which I think has something to do with the metal-ice combination. It's a strange game. You can pretty much do any slightly inhumane thing you would like to do to whomever has the puck, but only when they have the puck. There's plenty of drama, blood, sweat and tears. And when it is all over, they shower, dress up in suits and go out for dinner. Picture hockey hair with a nice suit and try to not think about cavemen- I dare you.

The student section is, maybe, my favorite part. They are the drunk uncle that everyone is embarrassed by, but tells stories about. And, someday, I'll be the mom who pretends to not understand the group of crazy people across the rink to the curious child next to me, but until then I will delight in the insanity.

Oh, about that old professor I chatted with. After carefully explaining to me that I was not smart enough to work for him, he told me to be more positive. I wanted to carefully explain to him that his marketing problems were grounded in the fact that his people skills were equivalent to those of patio furniture.