I just want to write earnestly about my feelings right now, on the edge of something exciting. I’m not good at being honest about my feelings, but floating in this space between exhaustion and giddy anticipation has made me weird.

Sometimes a book just doesn’t work.

Actually what I have is good news, bad news, more bad news, good news (I hope) and more bad news.

It’s officially December which means, by my rules, it’s offically completely fine to listen to Christmas music non-stop for the next twenty-five days. Sadly, the season often finds me drearily pushing my shopping cart down the cereal aisle to the tune of a total bummer rendition of The Little Drummer Boy, or a horrifically shrill cover of Santa Baby, or, for whatever bizarre reason, a cover of Leonard Cohen’s decidedly not-a-Christmas-song, Hallelujah. There is no need for this. Not when there are so many great Christmas recordings to choose from. There are entire albums of great Christmas songs.

According to a 1993 Issue of Hockey Digest

I owe everything I am to the female hockey journalists who wrote the 1993 'Hockey Digest' list of the most attractive NHL players.

My love of hockey was so strong and pure growing up that it was torture watching the boys in my class chase that dream. None of them joined that negligible percentage of the population that gets to play in the NHL, or even play hockey professionally, of course, but they did get to at least try. The dream was a big part of their lives, and I felt left out.