A Lost Weekend

Well, Stately IPB Manor is taking on water today, and it seems like the weather is trying to rub my face in a really obvious metaphor for how the entire weekend went, playoff-wise.

I would start here by laughing at Pookie and her whole “I’m stuck attending a conference in the middle of the best round of the playoffs” angst, but I have no leg to stand on. For one thing, I knowingly enrolled in a week-long pastry class at the Culinary Institute of America during last year’s first round and missed the bulk of the Devils first-ever vanquishing of the Rangers. For another thing, Pookie actually has a career that demands attending conferences with some regularity, and I have no career dynamic to speak of. So I’ll lay off her on this one. Instead, I’ll turn to the water in my basement.

When you buy a house in our part of central Jersey, you really have to expect a certain amount of flooding. The land in our township is essentially just one giant sponge. So when it rains like it has for the last 24 hours here (one might describe this deluge as semi-Biblical), it is entirely to be expected that you’re going to be suffering that violated, helpless feeling of having water seeping across your basement floor. Likewise, when you watch the first round of the NHL playoffs and you have violent dislikes for any number of participating teams, you have to expect to be unhappy with at least some of the outcomes. I fully put forth that I run that risk when I decide to care. But still. Sigh. Did it have to be this unpleasant?

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On the Road with IPB

Flashback to July 2006: The joy of seeing Mike Commodore hoist the Stanley Cup has worn off, but the new season is far on the horizon; my hockey-brain was still in semi-dormancy, not nearly back full-throttle after the lengthy lock-out-induced layoff. I decide it would behoove me professionally to ask my employer to send me to a conference sometime the following year, and then forget all about it thanks to the completely distracting line-up of Italy’s World Cup Team.

Flashfoward to Februrary 2007:

My boss: “Congratulations, we’re sending you to that conference you wanted to go to!”
Me: “Awesome! When is it again?”
Boss: “April 16-18.”
Me: “D’oh! What the fuck was I thinking?!?”

But since I couldn’t exactly beg out of the conference after my cash-strapped company ponied up $600 for me to go, here I am, blogging solo from the road, away from my trusty satellite dish. Fortunately I’m able to crash with Kate the Great (IPB’s other sister) who graciously granted me the right to add Center Ice and VS to her cable for the four days I’m here. I was worried that it was going to be very, very difficult to focus on 3 days of libary automation issues while the playoffs were in full swing, but after last night’s Devils game and this evening’s Peguins-Senators fiasco, I’d willingly sign up for a week-long seminar on cataloging (the only thing in real life I hate as much as Darcy Tucker).

I don’t even know what to say about the Penguins-Senators game. Schnookie will tell you all you need to know, so I’ll just point out that I don’t think Colby “CheeseTed” Armstrong’s hit was dirty, that I am surprised and dismayed that the Penguins offense has been so listless (I fully expected them to lose this series but I figured it would be because they played their game but let in more than they scored), and that I’m happy to see Fluery actually had a pretty good game (that first goal aside). I wish I had more to say, but there’s something about being in a different house, watching a different TV, typing on a different computer and freaking out about driving to a strange place to attend a strange conference that distracted me from the game. I’ll endevour to do better tomorrow.

Once again, I’d like to thank Kate the Great for letting me take over her TV. Of course, she just commented, “Ah yes, this allows me my yearly ‘Hey, wait, hockey’s a really cool sport!’” Maybe one of these years we’ll convert her for good.

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