This is why Hockey is a great religion

Because there is no looking for signs or listening for voices or praying or any of that. You go out there and the hockey gods say YES or the hockey gods say NO. Clear as day.

Today, the hockey gods said NO to me. Oh, LORD, how I was smote at stick and puck. Those kids lit me the fuck up, especially early on. Like I wasn't even standing there. Incredible. And Mitch... with your back door passes. At least you knew to stay a stick's distance away from me after you scored, eh? Hmph. What a pal. ;)

Oh well. As I said Sunday, it's process. I was going down better and I'm getting my pads to fly properly more often than not. I went down a LOT more and with slightly better timing, got my toe to the post some of those times, but clearly don't have that whole thing even close to figured out. I'd find myself down and then reaching my leg out and not getting over far enough and, boom, right in the gap. Happened at least 3 times that I recall.

And then one I sealed my toe to the post and as I was basking in the glory of FINALLY getting that right, the fucker flipped it over my pad. So... Step 1: Drop. Step 2: Toe to the post. Step 3: Get the glove or blocker over to prevent chip-ins. Or maybe just start swinging that stick like a ninja. Haven't decided yet.

One thing I didn't do well that I usually do well at is making sure I'm ready energy-wise, but I was really busy all morning and hadn't eaten enough, so I had trouble staying sharp mentally. At one point, I made a save that went behind the net, but my team didn't clear it and when the white team set up again, I forgot that they weren't my team anymore (whites and darks had switched ends a few minutes earlier) and I'm all LOLcat-mush brain, which sounded something like this:

O HAI WHITEZ!

WAIT... WHY ISN'T U CLEARING PUK WHITEZ?

O SHIT! WHITEZ DA ENAMIE!

O FUK. WELCUM INTO NETZ, PUK.

SAD GOLIE SEZ BAD WERDZ.

Ahhhh, tragedy makes the best comedy, doesn't it?

Anyway... another day at the rink.

And since I've always got some kind of gripe, here's my gripe (What's Bugging Ms. Conduct?, if I can steal Barry's gig for a second):

Lookit, boys. SHOOT THE PUCK. I know I'm a girl and I suck and all but please PLEASE don't let up on shots. Pass, deke, whatever, but if you're gonna shoot, don't shoot for me to save it. Shoot to get a goal. Otherwise, I learn nothing. I'd rather get lit up and have my day ruined and my confidence shot to hell than have false confidence from guys purposely shooting into my belly or pads.

Honestly, I don't wear all that gear because it's comfortable or smells good or I look cute in it. /rant

(Oh, but speaking of gear, my skates didn't hurt one iota today! I think I've finally figured out that if I don't lace them tightly until the third set from the top, that works perfectly.)

Naturally, I've started nicknaming a few of these kids. Of course, Mitch and Mikey are just Mitch and Mikey (though Mitch was "GODDAMNIT!!!" a few times today), but the kid in black, #10 with the grey on his black pants... he's "Canada" and the guy in white with the cornflower blue socks... he's "Blue Socks"... I know, it's Earth-shattering stuff. The things goalies do to amuse themselves while trying not to think too much...

Anyway, it was fun, though it's more fun when I don't have to hear "Pull the goalie"... Pull me, fuck you.

*ahem*

So as to not finish this on a bitter note (because I'm totally not), I saw this on the so-lovely-I'd-switch-teams-for-her Sarah Spain's Twitter today and I totally related to the little squirrel. How sweet is that?