I am not a young man.

As old as my tongue and just slightly older than my teeth, I know that all I wait for now is the weight of age to come crashing down upon me.   Maybe that's why the nesting instinct has finally come upon me.  It's not bad, though because I seem to have settled down with a good woman.  Rachelle has been wonderful over the last year and some odd.  But  I am curious to see the effect of one little thing on our relationship.

We both want to play hockey.

With that said, the clock is ticking.  the I-League picks up again in less than a month and the goal is for both of us to be playing in it.  That alone should make a strong man go weak in the knees.  Really, how many guys want to look up and see the love of their life crushed into the boards by a 250 block of flesh that hasn't learned to stop on ice skates.  I've always jokingly said I went to the Ron Hextall School of Goaltending ("Slash all you want, someone else goes to the box") and that I want to lead the I-League in goalie penalty minutes, but I'm really curious how I'm gonna react to the first time someone slashes my girlfriend.

Please, no OJ jokes.

I think I'll handle it well, but god forbid I get your number . . . come near my crease and your ankles are history. Of course there is the possibility that the league splits us up.  Then the quandary deepens.   What do I do the first time I see her skating down the ice with the puck at the end of her stick?  Do I stone her or conveniently slip?  I get that feeling that if she doesn't score, I don't score (if you know what I mean and I think you do).

GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!

"Get out the A-1 sauce, I'm done."