This is the 40th in our summer series in which we are drawing hockey cards at random from a box and then writing about them.
It’s Wednesday night, and you know what that means, Gentle Reader — Pookie’s working late. It also means Project Runway is on tonight, as well as a new Mythbusters, and we’re not too proud to admit that we’re totally excited to hunker down over our late, late dinner watching them. So in order to be ready to just settle into a TV junk-food coma when Pookie gets home at 10, we have to write tonight’s post remotely. This is the actual conversation we IM’d while planning our contribution to the blogosphere:
Pookie: Do you want to draw a card now?
Schnookie: Okay. Let me drag my sorry ass across the room to the PBS dispenser.
Schnookie: This is what I picked: Martin Hanzal
Pookie: David, where’d you get Hanzal? [Ed. Note: this is an extremely obscure reference to "Wet, Hot American Summer"]
Schnookie: Then Lauri Tukonen (AGAIN!)
Schnookie: Then Torrey Mitchell. Then Cristobal Huet.
Pookie: I don’t know who that is and I refuse to answer.
Schnookie: Then I stopped and collapsed into tears.
This dialog suggests we’ve had it with PBS and the crummy players that call the PBS box home, but in all honesty, that’s not the case. At just about this time last year, we’d reached the end of our ropes with summertime and all the stuff-that’s-not-hockey it has to offer. Sure playing Katamari for hours on end is fun, but it’s not the same as watching the Devils (perhaps because it’s fun? We digress). So when the SCF ended, and the Draft had come and gone, our outlook on summertime was grim. We were sure to find ourselves antsy for hockey mid-way through July, we were positive that watching DVDs of 80′s TV shows could only amuse us for so long, and we knew for a fact that by this time, we would be desperately bored.
We are loving summer. For the first time ever, we are loving summer and all of the stuff-that’s-not-hockey it has to offer! Of course, we don’t mean to imply that we love hockey any less. Au contraire, Gentle Reader, this newfound appreciation of the lazy off-season lifestyle will likely only make us love hockey more! You see, right now, we don’t have to be sitting down in front of the television, with dinner prepped, packaged as leftovers, and cleaned up, all by the 7:05 puck-drop. We can take self-indulgent post-work naps and water the garden and cook dinner and photograph said dinner and garden and stand around leisurely talking about our work days and reshingle the roof without any care in the world about 7:05. 7:05 passes with nary a thought from any of us! And yet, were we to live like this forever? Wethinks trouble that way lies. An entire life led without the structure of the hockey season would be like eating cookie dough for dinner every night. If, uh, cookie dough ever got tired. Which it doesn’t. OK, bad example! It would be like eating cookie dough for dinner but discovering after three months that the cookie dough has coconut in it.
So we will toss our Hanzal, Tukonen, Mitchell, and Huet cards to the late-darkening summer sky in a celebration of this most wonderful coconut-less time of year, while simultaneously looking forward to a return to structure, order, and hockey. Sweet, sweet hockey.