A Fleecy, Wine Filled Hockey Hug of Love

9:07am: It’s hockey day. It’s back. Finally. Grab my phone and text half the people in my contacts wishing them the best day. It’s like Christmas, only better. The whole I-didn’t-know-this-day-would-come thing really spices up the Christmasish anticipation. It’s like a secret ingredient, like adding butter to tomato sauce– that je ne sais quoi of Gary-related loathing and the horrocious hockey purgatory we’ve all been drowning in that makes this day all the more excellent. Continue reading