i have decided to take my hockey training more seriously. well, serious for a complete amateur, anyway. Brian and i did go to the gym this morning, and about an hour or so after i took him to work, i grabbed my goalie pants, leg pads, and skates, and did not procrastinate about getting my ass out the door to go to public skate.

a rat hockey (pick-up game) session just ended as i arrived. there were maybe three or four people left hanging around, and i recognized one of them–the ex-boyfriend, Tony, with whom i ran away to Colorado in 1991. more on that later. as an aside, i didn’t play hockey when we were dating.

anyway, he and another player, a woman named Wendy who actually plays for one of my team’s opponents, invited me to the next rat hockey game, which is this Friday at 8:30am. a bit too early for me, especially since i have practice late on Thursday night, but they’ll be playing again next Tuesday.

the entire exchange between Tony and me was completely innocent–he’s been married for several years now and has a baby. i really believe that he and Wendy were sincere in inviting me to join them for hockey. who knows? maybe they’ll know a goalie who can give me some pointers or something. however, the history between Tony and me is important because it was one of the seeds that was planted and that bloomed into my life as it is today. still, running into him today was unsettling.

anyway, i had the ice to myself, and although i didn’t stay the entire hour-and-a-half, i did practice my T-glides, which, according to Wikipedia, is:

A technique used by goaltenders to move in a lateral direction. To perform a t-push, a goaltender directs his/her outside skate in the desired direction, pushing with both legs, covering the five hole. This method of lateral movement is most effective when the puck is close to the net.

considering that the Tigers don’t have a goalie coach, for me it was a start. anyway, if you’re interested, you can read the story about Tony and me below, and a somewhat abbreviated version of how i got to where i am today, not in hockey, but in life in general.

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In 1998 I lived in a teeny, tiny studio apartment in Chicago. We’re talking like, dorm room size — I’m not even kidding. At the time only Basil and Hopper lived with me, and at that point in my life I had been smoking for 12 years. I was never a heavy smoker — just a half pack a day of Marlboro Lights, box, please. On the weekends I tended to smoke more, sometimes up to a pack-and-a-half, especially if I had a paper to write. It was my senior year of college, you see.

One day, maybe night, I took a look at my cats. Or who knows? Maybe one of them looked at me, the way Basil did when I took this picture a few days ago, and I made the horrible realization that if they ever got lung cancer, it would be entirely my fault. When I worked at an animal hospital, there was a cat who was often treated for asthma, yet his owners continued to smoke. I didn’t want to be like them. Never mind my own health; I was, and continue to be, concerned about my cats’ well-being.

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Brian had the day off yesterday so we went ice skating in Millennium Park. I have now crossed this off of my 43 Things list. The outdoor rink is only open November through March, and I was afraid I’d have to wait ’til later this year to accomplish this goal.

It’s free to skate, but skate rental is a whopping $7. Fortunately, we have our own skates. My regular skates desperately need sharpening, but I’ve been too lazy to find out what the nearby pro shop’s hours are, and the skate rental place charges $8! Well, that may be the going price; I have no idea. It’s been a really long time since I’ve had to pay for sharpening. I wore my goalie skates instead.

I was disheartened at how awful I was. It’s been at least a year since I’ve been on the ice and the last time it was only for a few minutes. And the last, last time was in 2001. I shouldn’t have been falling every few feet while skating backwards. I was a frickin’ goalie once upon a time! “Was,” being the key word. And skating forward? Pfft. No balance.

Part of the problem, as the skate guard kindly pointed out, was that my skates weren’t tied tightly enough. You shouldn’t be able to insert your fingertip under the laces. My regular skates have waxed laces that make them a lot easier to tighten. Anyway, once I — OK, Brian–fixed this, I was flying like I flew before. Not as confidently as I would have liked, and I think part of this was because I was wearing goalie skates, the blades of which are shaped differently from regular skates. I’m really, really rusty. Embarrasingly so.

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Heh. This was me in another life. I’m the short one on the left, folks, not the tall redhead. Heehee. That’s my friend Julie, another grad student at the time. This was taken in the locker room before our game against Michigan. I wasn’t really a goalie; I was a forward. However, we didn’t have anyone else to play, so (what the hell possessed me?) I volunteered. At this point, the only goalie equipment I had were my glove and blocker. Notice that the brand is Brian’s. I didn’t own my own pads. I was using the club’s pads that were a million years old and way too big on me. For one thing, they were for men, and all of my hockey gear is in boys’ sizes. I did get my own pads eventually. I also have a goalie helmet, but I didn’t like it as much as my regular helmet because I couldn’t see anything below my chin.

The first of two seasons I played for Ohio State was the first year we had a women’s Division I team instead of just a club team. There was no organization at all. According to the team’s snazzy new web site:

Following the formation of the varsity team were slim years for the Ohio State women?s club hockey team. The 2000 season was the last year the team participated in the CCWHA. The team remained independent playing a sporadic schedule with little funding. Kate Nushart says of it, “we were just a group of girls who enjoyed playing hockey together–we had no direction and no focus.”

the 1999-2000 Ohio State Women’s Club Hockey Team
CCWHA tournament at Michigan State

Apparently, the team’s budget is now $30,000. Know how much ours was? $1500. In my second season I was the club’s vice president and in charge of raising funds from local businesses. We had a few donations for raffles and stuff, but nothing great. Now, they have a frickin’ booster assocation! I wouldn’t be able to play now anyway, because the team is only open to undergrads. During my time, it was open to all students, faculty, and staff.

Our coach was a grad student himself — a PhD student at that, so he was unable to travel with us to games. Yep, we sucked. We didn’t win one game, and it wasn’t just because I was a new goalie — the rest of the team wasn’t great either, and entire games were played in our zone, meaning that I saw action for the entire frickin’ game. But boy, was I in shape. And you know what? We had the time of our lives!

The one game we did win was in spring quarter of 2000. Our season was over, but we formed an intramural team. We beat a team of guys, and they were not happy! Bwahahaa! We also played as a team in intramural softball. We won a lot because the other teams never showed up.

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I hadn’t realized ’til just last week that I have three recurring dreams:

• one in which i’m naked in public;
• the second in which I’m still in college or grad school, and the only class I need to graduate is some horrible math class that I’m failing miserably — even though I finished grad school in 2002;
• the third is me playing hockey again. In every single one of my hockey dreams, I’m back playing right wing.

I had the hockey dream again last week. I don’t know what it means, but I’ve decided to sell my goalie equipment at the start of this year’s season. I’m thinking that I might start playing again in one of the many local women’s teams. If that’s the case, then I have a lot of training ahead of me — as a winger.

While we were skating yesterday, Brian told me that I shouldn’t dwell on my performance, that I should be proud that I finally put my skates back on and accomplished one of my goals. As someone currently going through a depression, it’s so easy for me to see the negative side of things, to be so critical of myself, and, as regular readers know by now, so hard for me to see the big picture.

Last week, I could barely make it out of the house. Yesterday I was back on the ice. There’s got to be something to that.

although i studied classical piano in high school, my absolute favorite keyboard instrument was the harpsichord, and we were lucky enough to have one at school. the harpsichord is similar to the piano, but smaller in size. its tone isn’t as full or rich; rather, it sounds like guitar strings being plucked because that’s exactly how the instrument operates. the notes don’t resonate like a piano’s; they’re short, as if each tone is interrupted by the harpsichordist taking a breath. as a result, the keys feel different when pressed. unlike piano keys, you can almost feel the harpsichord’s hammers plucking each of its strings. the instrument’s sound, as well as the tactile sensation when playing it, was what attracted me to the harpsichord. for anyone interested, i recommend Scott Ross‘s recording of Domenico Scarlatti‘s Complete Keyboard Works.

well, someone took it upon himself to build a harpsichord made completely of LEGO bricks. you can even play it, but it doesn’t sound anywhere as beautiful as a real harpsichord. LEGO does have its limits, after all. you can see the LEGO harpsichord here, as well as listen to a short recording of the builder playing it.

thank you very much to April who sent me the link, and who knows how much of a LEGOmaniac i am! but it doesn’t stop there. she also sent a link to a lifesize Han Solo encased in carbonite, also built entirely with LEGOs–about 10,000 of them! check it out here.

it’s all true. i also can’t believe that he didn’t stop me, but he didn’t. though i was high, i know and remember that i definitely hit him. i had run my car into other things, also at about 5mph or less: a sapling in a friend’s front yard; various poles, because i once had difficulty backing out of parking spaces adjacent to poles.

i still remember how it felt against those hard, solid objects, but not as clearly as i remember hitting a human being. it’s something that i can’t forget because it impact felt different.

and didn’t i say that most people have a similar story? it’s not that uncommon, and it’s not that unbelievable. the only embellishment is the very end, where i passed Wendy the pipe when she got in the car. in actuality, maybe i did, maybe i didn’t. i don’t remember, but it sounds like something i would have done–be stupid enough to not only drive around stoned, but have the dope on me as well. i don’t think Frey had to “cinematize” (which is how The Smoking Gun describes it) his own drunk/high-hitting-someone/something-with-your-car story and still make it believable.