20 October 2013


Update: after sitting with blue conditioner on it for a while, my hair is significantly less orange. I can now be seen in public. I'm still going to ask them to re-do the top, though. One should not come out of a hair appointment looking like your hair was colored a month ago. 


When I was relatively young - 10? 11? 12? 13? Clearly I don't remember - I went along a couple of times when my Uncle E. had a hockey game late at night. If I recall correctly, he would take me and/or my brother along to watch his daughter. After the game, a bunch of people congregated at a restaurant that had huge cinnamon rolls. 

I do remember the cinnamon rolls.

Between that and the cleared-off section of the lake where we would knock a puck around every once in a while when we were back in the US, I have a basic appreciation for hockey even though I haven't been to a game since my ice-obsessed grade school friend and I were both living at home after college and went to a semi-pro game in our hometown. (She was obsessed with both figure-skating and hockey. I always figured that if I had a choice, I would join the sport that involved fighting. It seems that I knew myself, even back then. Also, I can't do figure-skates. They have no support for my wimpy ankles.)

So I went to a hockey game on Friday night, with another displaced Mid-Westerner. I didn't actually know that there was hockey here, but lo! There is hockey here. It was in the same arena where much bigger sports play, and it was really fun.

On the way home, I ran over a couple of smashed beer bottles just up the street from my house. I was paranoid about my own tires, of course, since I have a knack for accidental tire deflation, but I was even more worried about the bicycles that ride down our street on the regular. This street is a bike route.

I dropped my stuff off inside and headed back out, armed with keys, cell phone, headlamp, and broom. By the time I got to the glass, a block and a half away, an older couple had come out, too. The man and I swept the glass of the bottles into my dust pan by the light of my headlamp and emptied the dust pan into a fast food bag that we found on the street. By the time we got done, we'd also swept up a substantial quantity of autumn leaves, but the bicyclists were safe again.

Good deed complete for the evening, I went back and checked my tires. They were fine.

And then I checked them again in the morning, and again this morning. Fine, and again fine.

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