3 a.m., then 7 a.m.

Woke up before my alarm this morning, so I've got some time to kill before I head to the 4:45 a.m. stick and puck and FINALLY put skate to ice for the first time in almost two weeks. Not sure who will be there since Scott TFCG (as a refresher, that's The Fucking Canadian Goalie) and his family are up in Alberta rolling with their Canadian homies. I'm jealous. Bet it's not 104 outside there, eh?

But I mainly want to work on stuff by myself, maybe see a few shots. I don't feel a huge obligation to be a target for anyone at this particular stick and puck because I'm not paying less than anyone else, so I should get to do whatever I need to do. I'm selfish and I like it, bitches.

The bum knee is feeling better in tiny measures. It's not waking me up when I turn over in bed anymore, so that's a nice thing. I bought a Cho-pat strap to wear and see if it helps. Kinda doubt it but it's worth a shot.

Anyway, thought I'd give a little round up of cool shit:

Justin Bourne, aka Big Tunafish, has new digs at his blog and even offered up some video in honor of the occasion. You know how someone will remind you of someone else but you can't figure out who? I'm having that problem after seeing that video. It will come to me at some really inappropriate time today.
~~~~~

One of my very favorite times of the off-season is Wild Development Camp week. All the adorable behbehs roll into St. Paul and get run ragged by Constantine, get coaching on stuff like nutrition, strength training, power skating, and dealing with the media, and generally just run around being adorable.

There's always lots of video and "blogging" and whatnot and the boys are so much sillier and funnier when they're younger. I guess guys get bored and jaded by cameras in their faces after a while and they learn all the cliches and how willing the media are to accept them. Anyway, it's just sweet and you want to pinch their cheeks and give them $10 to buy some candy.

And it's even more the case this year with Colton Gillies as sort of the elder statesman and spokesmodel of the bunch. Kid is straight up goofy and completely unaffected. I adore him, and while the shredded wheat side of me very much wants him to stay in the NHL and not experience the disappointment of getting cut from training camp after already having spent a year with the big club... the frosted side of me really wants him in Houston so I can have him for myself. (Update: I'm mean, seriously! Read this!)

Here's Colt and the boys learning to cook. Apparently freshly drafted goalie Darcy Keumper tried to burn the building down. Can't take goalies anyplace nice.


~~~~~

My girl over at Getting Pucks Deep did her own hot goalie countdown. She even managed to make Flower look hot. I guess flash enough muscles at me and the giant chicklets aren't such an issue.

You can watch it at her site or watch it here and also see the effervescent Wrap Around Curl's disagreement with the ranking. These are important things we debate, people. Screw the economy and world issues. Hot goalie rankings are the new McLaughlin Group.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, back from stick and puck. There were 6 kids there and several adults. I stopped almost all of the adult shots and almost none of the kid shots. I fucking hate these little kids.

My time in net for them didn't last long. I let them all put a puck in on me 5-hole and then I retreated to the dark end of the ice to work on my own shit.

Can't say I worked hard particularly, but I did make some progress in terms of sort of thinking through why certain things aren't working for me. Like, even just recovering from the butterfly. Nobody ever told me that if I lean forward when I'm getting up and just recover to my stance, it's a lot easier. Maybe I shouldn't have needed to be told that, but being a naturally less athletic person, yes, some things do need to be spelled out in crayon for me.

I tried to slide in the butterfly. I can't do it any better than the first day I got out on the ice after I got my leg pads. I might as well be in sand. What's silly is that I can actually get a pretty good slide in just a knee-shuffle kinda move because my weight is distributed evenly. Somehow I can't seem to get my weight even (this was something I learned watching Brusty's camp) and push off and actually get somewhere.

And I worked on the hybrid/tight to the post save. Even though the rink people were too lazy to put the other net out so I was tight to the air next to the dark spot on the ice where the post sits... but still, I have a better feel for it, so that's good.

I also worked on moving the puck some more. Still suck at that. And I worked on backwards skating quite a lot, which I'm getting MUCH better at.

Most of all, I reassured myself that I can still skate after 2 weeks off the ice. And that it's still fun. As long as those kids aren't shooting on me.

Oh, but I had a Ms.Conduct Moment of OHSHIT Panic. One of the parents out there... I'm standing in the net taking a few shots and I look up at his face and I swear on my Nonnie's grave, it was Benoit Pouliot.

If my skull and mask were see-thru, you'd have seen my gears go into overdrive at that moment. Like, "Oh fuck, he's here to take my head off for all the mean things I've said about him. But, that's stupid. He's in Canada or St. Paul but certainly isn't in Houston paying for stick and puck at the mall rink at 5 a.m. on a Saturday with a little kid. But shit, that sure looks like him. And he's got some crazy European looking sweater on (and it looks appropriate, so I know I'm on target with my notion he should be playing in Europe), but so does the kid he's with, so, no, this can't be him."

And then he shot the puck. Right into my blocker. And again, blocker. And again, blocker. At which point, I decided it wasn't him because Ben would be shooting it right into my belly. :)

Goddamn, I love my blocker side. Even got my glove on a couple, so I think the catch I've been playing with Mr.C is helping. But I love my blocker side. I should take it out for ice cream later.

Anyway, enough of this. I've been promised french toast with fresh strawberries at my favorite breakfast place, Buffalo Grill. Go ahead and be jealous. It's the tastiest breakfast EVER.

Next up: Game tomorrow night. And hopefully redemption for the big bag of suck I left out there two weeks prior.