The Joy of Moving. And Hockey...

...and then Alan opened his eyes and realised that nearly a week had slipped past...

Yes, I'm still visiting the bloggy world when I can find the time (and something to ramble on about). I'm also still trying to keep one step ahead of the evil work overlords with their long whips (long enough to reach even me hiding on this rock in the Atlantic).

I took a couple of days off this week to help my parents move from the NW corner of Conception Bay to the Southern Shore. They had a rented U-Haul truck and there were the usual problems with reserving the truck, with realtors, with cable companies and with lawyers. A legal issue prevented us from being able to start unloading the truck until 4:30 in the afternoon.  *Alan shakes fist to sky and vehemently curses the evil lawyers* (Alan is also Canadian and must now profusely apologise to any and all lawyers who are currently reading, or in the future may stumble across, this blog post). Anyway, they are in their house and now in the process of unpacking and moving furniture from here to there. And back again. One day they will have time to just sit and enjoy the view of the harbour. My dad said that this is definitely the last time they will ever move. I agreed. That is until the day we move them from the house into that nursing home with the bland food, high-fibre diet, cards three nights a week and invigorating geriatric exercises.

On a side note...our new AHL hockey team has been 'officially' named in the media. The St. John's IceCaps have now come into being. The name has been one of the worst-kept secrets in the city's memory and outrage over it has been spewed into cyberspace for about a month now. For the non-Canadians in the crowd...the name IceCaps brings to mind a certain frozen, cappuccino beverage by a certain major donut doughnut chain in our country (and parts of the northern US). I am in that camp of not liking the name but think the logo is tres cool looking. The top of an iceberg stylized from the Newfoundland and Labrador parts of our province. Very nice. Now is the time for whining over the name to stop and for everyone to move on in support of our local hockey team. *Alan gets off soap box (the same one he stood on when he cursed the lawyers)*.

I have put a down payment on a pair of season tickets for this new team. It's quite a chunk of money, but I'm going half's with V's sister's husband (did that make sense?). We'll also eat less lobster and more hamburger. We'll also force the boy to chip in by mowing lawns and delivering newspapers. The boy can even work George Street this tourist season by singing and dancing outside the swankier pubs...or...perhaps I should sell my body for money. I would come home from downtown with $150.25 in my pockets. V would ask me "where did the odd quarter come from." I would reply sheepishly, "Everyone."

I'm to go to the arena tomorrow to select the two seats that we will plant our butts in this inaugural season. I'm live in hope that there are a few moderate views of the ice surface left as we are near the bottom of the pecking order as far as priority on the season's ticket list is concerned.

It may be July in Canada but the smell of professional hockey is in the air--the first sign that winter is coming to the north. We will be there to support our team and certainly don't want the weeks to slip past unnoticed.

Let the games begin.