Either it's my crappy computer or Twitter is fubar'd. I've been trying to tweet and it keeps telling me "oops! we did something wrong!" Ok, so fix it. I might have a meltdown if I can't ask the incredibly important question that came to me while watching a Caps game and I didn't have my phone nearby to tweet from.
So in the mean time, I'll blog. There's really not a whole heck of a lot to say but that might be because my brain is completely fried. Our 11:10 pm game ended up being an 11:30 game last night because they cut they ice late (and very slowly- yet somehow there were still deep cuts in it). Another "L" on the board for the Hawks. I'm aggravated because I don't feel I played that great a game. But what else is new. We lost 7-6. I continue to believe a win is just around the corner for us... somewhere.
I'll just blame it on the ref. Before the game started, he came over and checked my net ('cause you know I just might be hiding pucks in there. 'cause goalies love having a puck hanging out in the back of their net for no reason), nodded, looked at me and said "Good luck tonight. Have fun." and clapped me on the shoulder before skating away. My first thought was "Wtf?! Thanks a lot, ass!". Then the normal part of my brain told the goalie part to unbunch her panties, that not everyone who says "good luck" to a goalie really actually means "eff you". I'm still a tad paranoid about it but I'll just pretend he was just being nice.
I'm also less than thrilled to report that after 6 weeks of stretching (almost) every day, I only gained 5.5" in the width of my butterfly flare. (Now there is a sentence that makes NO sense whatsoever to anyone but a goalie. And even then it sounds strangely dirty.) The challenge over at Goalie's Crease ended today and I know for sure that a few folks ended up with more progress than I did. That's ok though, 5.5 more inches is still 5.5 more inches right? (Really, really, really behaving myself here....)
And lastly, the jersey number decision has been made for me. I finally settled on 37, but I am a giant momo, because I completely forgot that number is retired in the entire Quarry Cat organization, in memory of Michelle Polis. In the locker room after practice I asked the captain if I could have 37 and everyone stopped talking and stared at me. Yeah, hi, I'm the idiot in the corner over here. There's only a big 37 in a giant heart behind the net on both rinks. (In my defense.... when am I ever behind the net???) Her jersey is only framed and hanging in a box in the lobby too. And I only just played a tournament in her honor a few months ago. No reason why I should remember 37 is sacred ground at that rink.
Dumbass.
So, 39 it is. It's a good goalie number. It's not over-used, but it's not a number that makes you go "huh???" either.
Yeah I think it's time to take my rambly ass off to bed now. Maybe by now Twitter will let me post my incredibly important burning question.
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3 comments:
You know what, I like 39. It's odd and mostly balanced like my beloved 33, but a little beefier. And that's not a bad thing.
I didn't do the challenge, but in my intention to do it, I bought a ball to roll my butt on and it turns out it really helps my tight glute muscles. Hurts like a bitch, but in a good way.
LOL I'm letting a professional stretch my butt fibers Thursday. Told her I need her elbow in my glutes.
Ouch. Um. yeah. Ouch. Sorry, Goalie. Oh well, glad to hear you're settled on a number.
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