Poem About Ice-Hockey

We've finally found something the whole family enjoys doing together.  Not one kid whining.  Everyone
psyched to go, even Mom and Dad. 

Ice-skating.

Go figure.  Anybody got the address of the nearest skating rink in Brisbane?  I think they call it New Zealand maybe?!

To celebrate our new-found group enthusiasm we took the kids to a semi-pro hockey game in Weiden.  The Weiden Blue Devils versus some other team in red.  We called it semi-pro but we're not really sure.  I didn't even know Germany HAD ice hockey teams until last week!

And, to be fair, it wasn't really hockey the way Damon and I knew it.  Damon from the Philadelphia Flyers and me from Cornell.  (Don't laugh; it's actually the one sport the Ivy Leagues are respected for!)  And the Canadians would have been laughing their heavily padded fannies off.  Our highschool team played rougher than these guys.  Although it was nice to see some finesse put into the game, to see guys chasing the puck instead of slamming into eachother.  Again go figure, the Germans play hockey like gentlemen!

We enjoyed the game.  I sat next to a nice lady my age with Downs Syndrome who apparently was a regular.  She had a row of friends behind her - also with Downs Syndrome - and every time the Blue Devils scored they all had a roaring round of high-fives. Also every now and then in between just to keep up the enthusiasm. She was also patiently trying to explain the game to me. (Having been mostly to Cornell games, it was the first hockey game I can recall going to sober.  All I remember about rules is that shot of 151 per goal scored.  And Cornell scored quite often.) As far as I could make out, whenever in doubt, you were supposed to yell...."Man out...one of the red ones."  In German of course.  It had the same effect upon the ref/ump/guy in charge out there that our yelling "safety school" at Harvard did way back when but I was still fairly impressed with her command of the game.  I was having a hard enough time trying to keep track of the ball - which all four of my kids kept yelling at me to call a puck - and was pleased to have someone sitting next to me who was patient enough to explain things to me on my level.  I'm not going to let a little thing like everyone else having Downs Syndrome keep me from fitting right in!

It was also the only time I'd had all week to open my notebook.  To get that "mind-writing"' onto paper.  (Credit for that term goes to Michelle Anderson, and yes Michelle, you have unfortunately inspired me to write a mind-poem about Pilates class too!  More on that later!)  Try as I might, in between cheering for the Devils and giving colas to my devils, I could not get this stupid ditty out of my mind.

So here it goes.  And do feel free to blame Michelle for getting me going in this direction at all!

My Poem About Hockey   (written in the mind, as per Michelle Anderson)

There's lots of words that rhyme with puck.
Like "lots of luck."
Or "You guys suck."
"Our team's got a lot of pluck."
"Hey man, you had better duck!"
"I've got some beers out in the truck."
"The pretzels only cost a buck."
Which is why I have to cluck
And wonder why my mind is stuck
In the muck.
F*@#!

You gotta be impressed that I found ALL those alternatives.  Don't you?

Or is there a reason I missed before that Michelle calls it MIND-writing?!!!

(The Blue Devils lost, by the way, on penalty shots, but we are lacing up the skates again this Friday before heading into summer next week.)