Breakfast Club: Thursday Update

And now for the Thursday report...

Twelve skaters were on the ice, 15 percent of which were X chromosone-only (you boys have both an X and a Y if you don't recall your high school biology). We started with country music (or is it moooo-zik?) and ended with DougFM, so the channel changing plot thickens. I didn't quiz Jesse or Joe, but Geoff admitted to liking country last week and he wasn't on the ice this morning, so I will leave it to the CSI: Hockey Squad to put together the evidence before I convene the grand jury for the show-cause hearing.

Oh, yeah, hockey skills. We did some of that, too.

Passing and shooting. Shooting and passing. Like as if it should be that hard, then what was our excuse for so many wild pitches and whiffs? But let's ignore the errors and focus on the victories. Like, hey, Jesse, I think I understand the mechanics of that doggoned wrist shot. It may not show yet, but in my mind I'm blasting holes in cinderblocks now that you tell me driving my hip toward the floor gives my shot that little extra oomph. Oomph on, oh chickie-san, and soon you too will be a master of the dark arts.

And Joe, ever the diplomat, politely reminded us that a passing drill inherently involves passing the puck, as opposed to just getting rid of the puck in that-there general direction and hoping that the right guy finds it. And also for your consideration, bear in mind that it's difficult for me to pass it where you'd like it if your stick is up at your hips. What's that? Maybe you'd like me to send you a nice brick-crushing wrist shot at you, hip level? Hmmm sounds like someone has issues :) So let's keep your head up and those eyes on the goal.

Breakfast Club Summer Update III

Ah, it feels so very good to be back on the ice!

I can't tell you what the turnout has been for the Thursday morning session, because so far I've only made it for this one Wednesday session. But next week, I'll miss Wednesday's (that doggoned job is getting in the way of my hockey) so I'll be there Thursday and I'll let you know what the other day looks like.

But let's get back to what happened during the Wednesday, July 18th session. Seeing as we didn't have Kirk to cause any major disruptions in the flow of the drills (hee, hee), we actually got quite a bit accomplished.

Control that puck in those tight turns, and then use your body to shield the puck from those pesky opponents. Pretty funny how hard that can be when (ahem) you don't bend your knees enough and your turn looks like... well, I don't know what it looks like other than to say it doesn't look like it's supposed to look like, that's for sure. Suffice to say that some of us have a much looser definition of tight than others, and we'll leave it at that.

Moving on... hey! let's work on those wrist shots, shall we? I keep saying I'm going to have to go to Wal-Mart and buy me a wrist shot (aisle 6?). Perhaps I should try using the right foot (as in the correct foot, not necessarily the right) so that my weight is helping and not hurting, hmmm, yeah, that's a good place to start. Note to self...

Moving on again ...hey! We talk about taking it all in stride, but what does that mean when you're skating? Well, for starters, it means actually pushing using your edges like a diagonal versus skidding on the flats. And those large muscle groups that are so conveniently positioned in our thighs, did you know they could actually help you skate faster if you use those muscles to push the blade into the ice versus using those muscles to try to run on the ice?

I had every intention of coming back for the Thursday morning clinic, but some friends called and invited me to drop-in on Wednesday night, and my body just did NOT want to get up and skate for its third hour in a less than 24-hour time span with my soccer team's practice later than same evening. I know, I know, geesh, you're falling apart, woman, buck up, and all that stuff. Yea, yea, I hear ya. Despite this little bit of whining, it felt so so, so, so, so, so good to be back on the ice. It's been about a month since the Breakfast Club spring clinic and my spring C and D teams stopped playing, and doggoned if this past Wednesday morning I forgot to bring socks for crying out loud because I haven't packed a hockey bag in what seems like forever. I was starting to become a very grumpy girl. Trust me, that is a bad thing. Happy Laura is much more enjoyable to be around than Grumpy Laura. Ooh, goody good, yeah for me, Happy Laura is back!

I'll see you Thursday morning, and in the meantime, keep your head up and your eyes on the goal.

Breakfast Club - Summer Update II

“I’d rather be playing hockey.”

I have a camisole that has I’d rather be playing hockey emblazoned across the front. It garnered some questions in Cancun back in March. “What? You’d really rather be playing hockey? More than being here on the beach drinking pina coladas?” Well, yes, actually, it would have been nice to be able to hit the ice at least once that week. Don’t get me wrong; the cabana boy was very dutiful in making sure the pina coladas were always there and always refreshing. I sunned my buns to a nice golden tan. I went swimming and shopping and sightseeing, climbed the Kukulkan pyramid at the Mayan ruins of Chi’ch’en Itza (one of the new ancient wonders of the world), and enjoyed myself enough to have occasionally lost track of whether it was Tuesday or Thursday. But, yes, I did miss being able to play, even for that one week (missed skating three sheets of ice, if you are counting).

So imagine my dismay to wake up on Monday morning with what seemed like insect bites on my hand. And that scrape on my leg from the strange little tree/shrub with the sticky sap that I pulled out from my yard last Wednesday. Well doggone if that seemingly stable scrape was now starting to well up. No big deal. I packed for my two-day business trip with a little Benadryl for the bites and some ointment and loose gauze for the leg, knowing that I’d be back late on Tuesday in plenty of time to get up and skate Wednesday morning for the first session of Summer Breakfast Club. Wouldn’t you know though my body had a different plan? Poison sumac often does not cause the full allergic reaction for several days. Lucky for me, Newark Airport has an onsite medical clinic complete with a full pharmacy (terminal C, near gate 90). The TSA security guard (Karla, you’re a guardian angel besides being a guardian of homeland security) took one look at me Tuesday evening, and told me to go immediately to the clinic. By the time the physician on duty prescribed me an Epipen (in case I went into anaphylactic shock on the plane), cortisone pills and a strong antibiotic, both hands and arms were covered in giant welts, my face was swollen to the point of blocking the vision in one eye and my leg was now an open wound.

So, yes, you’re darn straight to think that I would have definitely preferred to be playing hockey Wednesday morning. Instead of being where I am now, bed-ridden with hands so swollen that I can’t hold a spoon much less a hockey stick, and a face straight out of that Outer Limits episode (or was it Twilight Zone?) where the pretty girl was considered deformed and grotesque by the creatures that inhabited her reality.

See you on the ice next week, God willing, and in the meantime, keep your head up and your eyes on the goal!