It's hockey playoff time!!! GO BOLTS!
Yup, I'm still alive. I'm a pain in the ass that way. To revisit a tweet sent by me (formerly known as @creasesinger), "I'm like a little cockroach of love."
Here's to all of you out there. May the song you really want to hear be on the radio when you get into your car to do whatever it is you do.
Oh and in case anyone was wondering...no, you didn't get away with it. But hey, it happens.
Now - I have some songs to write and important grocery shopping to do.
Just an FYI to any curious types: I'm allergic to fake. It runs in the family and that's all you need to know.
Yeah, you can blame the vampire ghosts for the fact I haven't been all media social for a while...or maybe it was the aliens from the future who have robot babies...I stopped paying attention.
Peace + Love to ya (oh you know you like it. You're not fooling anyone).
Hi there Bolts Nation. I’ve been bringing the THUNDER so loud from my living room couch in Maryland that I just might get an eviction notice tomorrow morning. Do you think I’m kidding? I’ve got those “singy” lungs and I think three streets down they know I’m Thundering for the Bolts. When your team is down, that IS NOT the time to be quiet. No, that’s the time to get your LOUD ON! Don’t wait for your team to score a goal, move those mouths, get your hind parts out of your seats and help ‘em out by THUNDERING like YOU MEAN IT.
Technically, I’m not supposed to travel (health reasons), but at this point, I know there are seats available for the next two games in Montreal. Screw it. I couldn’t give a dirty puck if I get evicted for thundering in my living room or how crappy I feel or if flying on a plane is bad for my health. LIGHTNING NEEDS THUNDER.
Yes, I’d much rather be seeing Ryan Malone on ice right now. I think the Bolts would be fairing a little better if he were, but that’s not the reality so, let’s all just do that whole “ain’t no quittin’ in hockey” now and tell the Habs they ain’t getting anything in this playoff season easy.
As for the Bolts, well, I’m taking a wild stab at it here and will simply guess that Coach Cooper and likely a few others will likely have some choice wisdom to impart in the lightning locker room. I’ll just let that be what it’s going to be.
Don’t anybody be giving Lindback (Goalie who stepped up when stepping up was required) a hard time – we who are of clan goalie can sense that sort of thing from many, many, many miles away.
Yup, I might as well just Thunder in enemy territory. I mean if the Caps fans want to send me death threats (true story and one of them will do jail time soon), then why not just throw a few Habs fans in the mix while I’m at it. (Yeah, I’m the respectful sort, so don’t worry Montreal, I don’t believe in bringing attitude – all I believe in is bringing some Thunder for my Boys – plus, I’ll get to see “Stinky Chees” Briere play – that’ll be good too – although I may taunt Price a little – but you all expect that sort of thing up there.) ;-)
As for whatever else is going on with me – you don’t want to know – might not even care really – and WHO CARES – It’s the playoffs and I woke up breathing and opened my eyes this morning!!!
GO BOLTS! ALLER BOLTS!! YOU HAVE AT LEAST TWO MORE GAMES, SO DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT GIVING EVEN A SINGLE INCH – MAKE ‘EM WORK FOR IT! Hey Gudas, I’ll drive to Tampa Bay and clean your house or wash your car or something if you stay out the “Downie Suite” a.k.a. the penalty box for the rest of the playoffs. Seriously – I don’t joke during when it comes to the playoffs – it’s against the hockey code ya know?
Peace + good music to all of you – (yeah, I’m more than pretty sure I’m about to get evicted – OH GOOD – welcome to Friday night as a certain ice hockey coach might understand – that sounds about right). email@example.com
Goalies Rule (except you Price – we’ll just see how cooperative your posts and crossbar are on home ice mwahahahaha). Aaaah, I love hockey. Always will. Born this way. Can’t help it. Don’t want to either.
In February of this year, I was the last family member left standing with regard to being in charge of all the many things left in the family house (now the former family house). There were, and this is a low estimate, 200, 000 photos alone. I’m sure that number is higher, but photos were just a small portion of the things I had to sort through with regard to my family history.
In going through some of these things, I had the chance to remember a lot of things having to do with growing up in that house and at the same time thinking about how to approach writing a book about my life. A lot of people I’ve known have encouraged me to write a book about my life, so this was a good time to think about the best way to get, at the very least, a good outline and framework to accomplish that goal.
I’ll happily share a family anecdote on my blog. There are so many family anecdotes, it would be unlikely I could get even 1/18th of them in a single book, so here’s one I’ll post here.
There was a time, when I was about 6 or 7 I think, that my father seemed to have some major unresolved issues with the Bolsheviks. Now, it’s important to bear in mind that not only was my father an alcoholic, but he was also diabetic. He wasn’t the friendly, “I love you man” sort of drunk either. Add in the fact that many diabetics who don’t have good control of their sugar balance, have chemical situations that can make them volatile and angry. My dad was also a full-blown sugar addict. He displayed addiction behaviors just like any of the other addictive behaviors other people tend to display in relation to drugs and alcohol. Sometimes, one of the family would have to check the extra tire well of his car to make sure he wasn’t taking a stash of candy bars to work. One of us would have to wake up in the middle in the night if we heard someone else up and moving around to make sure Dad wasn’t hiding in the bathroom with the sugar bowl eating spoonfuls of sugar.
For any who may not be familiar with alcoholics, diabetics and specifically both, well in my house, everyone was vigilant, all the time and at any time, for any reason, a perfectly fine evening, could instantly become an “every man, woman and child for themselves”, “duck and over”, “save yourself” outright struggle that might possibly result in one of us not making to the next. I’m not over-stating the situation. By the time I was 8, I knew that anything in that house could be used as a weapon, but also could be used as a defense mechanism as well.
Needless to say, if someone sneezed too loudly around my Dad (that happened with my mother too, but this about my father right now), that was plenty enough reason for my dad to start an all-out, no-hold-barred, rant about the Bolsheviks that could possibly result in one of the rest of the family being thrown through a closet door. I was the smallest for a time, so to him, I was easy pickin’s. My mother got a wine glass thrown at her that hit her right in the head once on a “Bolshevik” tirade. My brother, Chris, got pushed out of his dinner chair and hit his head on the corner of the china cabinet. Put simply, no one was safe when Dad decided to unleash his feelings about the Bolsheviks in my house.
I can safely say he dished out his anger about the Bolsheviks for at least two years. He must have gotten all that anger out and finally gotten past all that though, because eventually, he stopped going on angry tirades about the Bolsheviks. He had plenty of other major issues with all sorts of other things, people and types in the world, so no worries, he certainly had a plethora of anger to pull from. He moved on from the Bolsheviks though.
My family did have a certain knack for finding the humor in certain things. Even if those were getting hit in the head or thrown through a door. We all could do that. We, as a family, eventually could make light of certain things and make little family private jokes about them…eventually. I’m not sure who the first one in my family to do this was, but one of us, a short time after we all realized that Dad was finished being upset about the Bolsheviks, someone used the phrase, “It must have been the Bolsheviks” to explain something that appeared at first to be a bit of a “mystery.”
I’ll give you an example. Objects in my house often got broken. There were always the obvious “breaking of things”, like someone threw something, hence the breaking of the thing that was thrown. Sometimes, however there would be a broken object that didn’t have an obvious, seen, reason for being broken on the floor. Mind you, we always had family cats, and it wasn’t uncommon in my house for one of the others (at that time, I was too young for it to be me), to have been on some substance, alcohol or drugs, and “accidentally” broken something and truly have no recollection of actually doing it. Of course, there was also the possibility that one of the humans, as in “non-cat”, did break something, knew that he/she did it, but didn’t want to confess. Confessing to things in my house translated to only one thing; a severe beating with an object that could dent your head if the recipient of the beating didn’t do whatever was necessary to protect his or head. As you can imagine, there was always reluctance to admit to breaking something, even if it was an accident. The reason why was not a factor in the matter when it came to that sort of thing.
So, in situations where there wasn’t a clear answer to why something was found broken, and the cats surely weren’t talking, there’d be a bit of a loud and unpleasant inquisition, that often involved the threat of physical violence. Sometimes, however, one of us would put an end to that and get the entire past the “mystery of the broken object”, but saying, “It must have been the Bolsheviks,” which, to us, was a little funny and helped us ease the situation sometimes. Once someone had the “stones” to actually just say, “It must of been the Bolsheviks”, none of us could do anything but start having a little of a laugh. My dad knew it was at his expense, but by that time, he was over the Bolshevik thing, so he took it with a sense of humor too. Sometimes, he’d be the one to say it and we’d all just leave the “mystery” a mystery and the state of the house would deescalate to normal, go about your business, “we’ll all live to see tomorrow” levels.
It became a fun, family, inside joke actually. When any of us were around other people or if we had company at the house, any one of us wouldn’t have a problem just chalking certain things that other people may have seen a “mystery” or had some discussion about in search of some, face value, immediate explanation for, we’d happily just say “It must have been the Bolsheviks” and just consider that the reason.
For example, my brother was playing recreation baseball at the time and when we as a family were out watching his team play another league team, one of the parents of a player on my brother’s team said the following to my dad, “I wonder why we have a such a hard time playing this (the other team that kept beating my brother’s team) team?” Well, my mother and I certainly had a nice family laugh together when my father looked that parent right in the eye and straight-faced told him exactly why that team kept getting the best of my brother’s baseball team. Yes, indeed, the answer my dad provided was, “It’s because of the Bolsheviks”. That explanation became our family way of explaining things that didn’t seem to have a clear, answer to and it was our thing.
It was out family “thing” until I put an end to all of that. Yes, it was me who ended that particular family “thing”. I was last family member, as far as I know, to use the term “Bolshevik”. Here’s how that happened. I was probably 10 or 11 and decided to sneak out after dark to meet some of friends to play “Dungeons and Dragons”. Yes, nerdy as it may be, I will say it was a few years later when “Dungeons and Dragons” friend time also was the time when I became familiar with the fact that it only took 2 moderate swigs of straight grain alcohol to put me down for the night, if you catch my drift. “Dungeons and Dragons” taught me not mess around with grain alcohol. Anyway, as to the last night “Bolshevik” was spoken by a member of my family, I was returning home after sneaking out and attempting to put my 10-speed bike up against the garage door at the back of the house so I could quietly slip into the house through the back, basement door.
My bike and I made it about 10 feet from the garage door, when on came the basement light and there in the newly lit darkness were the silhouettes of BOTH parents. Had it been just one parent standing there, I might have thought I had a chance to at least have the punishment happen the following day, after school, or even get a pass. That would happen every now and again. The fact that both parents were present meant that I was about to have a really, really bad night. That’s when I saw the wooden spoon in my mother’s hand. That meant that I wasn’t even going to make it in the house before I started having that really, really, bad and painful night. So, what did I do?
Instinct kicked in and at that point I was not thinking in anyway. My autonomic response systems kicked in and the threat to my physical being was enough for my automatic defense systems to take total control of my and those innate systems chose – flight. I let go of the bike, turn tail and took off toward the line of bushes that marked the line between our family property and the neighbor’s property. As I was about mid-air in a head first dive into said bushes and as the sound of the bike I left behind crashing to the ground reached its conclusion, I said clearly and loudly, “The Bolsheviks made me do it.”
I then rolled out of the bushes on the other side, frantically removed the shoelace that got caught in the bushes and took off down the hill, through a few back yards to the woods that were about 1/4 mile away. I didn’t look back. I didn’t stop even after I ran my foot into some sort of unseen hard object in one of the back yards through which I ran that hurtled me to the ground and resulted in some of my skin being removed from my elbow. Once I found a good place to “hide” in the woods, I did realize I was just putting of the inevitable, but at the same time, I hope with all my my might that perhaps the fact that I brought the “Bolsheviks” into would lessen the punishment I was going to receive. It didn’t.
I stayed in the woods for several hours and then got tired, so I went back to the house and just knocked on the front door to be let in to take my punishment as it was meant to happen. My parents did not find the “Bolshevik” comment humorous in the slightest and that was the end of the family “fun” blaming the Bolsheviks for unexplained events. I pulled the “Bolshevik card” in the incorrect situation, but frankly, today, thinking back at it, it’s still pretty darn funny.
Yes Bolsheviks, I know it was not the right thing to do to blame you for something I did, but at that moment, you were all I had. You were all I had.
peace – mia – firstname.lastname@example.org How they hanging out there world? Mine aren’t hanging at all. They’re just as nice and firm and perky as they were when I was 22. No really. ;-D luv ya
11/26/13 – Auto spell check doesn’t know what it’s doing, so sometimes, the mistakes in my posts come from some automated pile of BS that doesn’t know the different between “write” and “right”. Learn how to spell auto-correct will ya. Sh$#!!!! Screw it people – you know what I mean. If you don’t, consult with a friend or something. Oh yeah, modern technology – it’s all so very helpful. Yeah and I’m an alien working for the CIA on a top secret mission to find out the Colonel’s “secret recipe”.
There have been some people who have communicated to me in one form another that I should write a book about my life. I’ve had someone tell me I should write children’s books. Someone else also suggested I write a book about resilience.
They all plausible and I’ve given a great deal of consideration to writing a book about my life. My life is still going on, so I do that as time permits. Right now, I will state rather bluntly that I am fully aware some of things I’d share about my life will burst some bubbles. There will be a lot of burst bubbles. My parents were who they were for the reasons they came to be that way. Some may have only seen the good a great parts of my family, while others only saw the not good and great parts of my family. I was adopted, but that means zero to me in long run. Family is family and that’s that.
It will take careful thought and preparation to show all sides of my family in as fair and balanced way as I can, so I’m not going to rush through that process of actually doing and getting it published. I had some friends when I was younger who nicknamed my mother, “Satan.” There were others, however, who, even as I type this would think that’s the most ridiculous statement ever. My parents did, in fact, use sleep deprivation as a method of punishment when I was in middle school and that is looked upon by the Geneva Convention itself these days as cruel and inhumane. I then had to go to school and mingle with everyone who, odds would likely show, weren’t forced to stay awake for days at a time.
It is that kind of information that some distant relatives, friends and co-workers of my parents will find very hard to take and I am aware of that. It is just in me as a person to understand that some would simply like to remember all the good things about someone when they have passed away. It is also important for those of us who’ve been through things in our lives, we’d not like to happen to anyone else, to share openly so that those who might be feeling as though they are alone or do not understand what can happen in families, communities, teams, work place and yes, even places of worship, know that there is always a way to heal and get beyond them.
I told a former co-worker a few years ago, after doing an office-wide seminar on resilience, that “it is not just surviving a difficult, it is surviving it well.
In writing a book about my life, I will do so patiently and do my very best to share the many good parts as well as the parts that others, depending on their perspectives and experience in life up to the point when they read the book may consider to be not so good parts. No one’s paying my bills or keeping me all comfortable in a comfy work space as yet either, so unless you plan on doing that, my rather interesting, compelling and I’m sure shockingly entertaining, hard hitting, yet gentle wonder filled life story will happen when it happens, or not. You can change that.
I will share my thoughts about something in particular that has a little to do with my personal perspective at this point in my life. Last year I wrote a certain blog post. Yes, indeed, I surely did. Oh, but I did. That blog post was all about me telling God I had no problem standing before him in judgement. It may or or may not be visible to you, depending on a few factors which involve an UNINVITED outsider who likes to get into people’s business without permission. No matter. Certain events happened after that post was written. When I use the word “children”, in general, I mean children of all people of the world. I mean children are children. It matters to me ZERO percent what they look like or where they were born. I happily tell all you nit-picking, judjey, mcjudgertons of the world that you now know, right out here in the open of the internet, that until you go through something like that, I’d like you to simply accept me for the human being I am and if you do approach me as such, I will gladly do the same in kind.
I can drive soberly and safely. I can support my hockey team and friends and family the best way I know how. I can do my best to be understanding and a good listener. I can make some people laugh now and again. I can be mindful at all times that I’m sharing the planet, not only with other humans, but with all kinds of other life. At this point in my life, however, I will tell anyone, and I do mean anyone, that unless you are paying my way through life, as long as I am a single woman in America with no ring on my finger – none of you have any right to tell me, an adult, who has been dealing with REAL LIFE, adult issues since she was a child. ESPECIALLY if you are doing from a location that is not in my physically present environment, in person. I, my friends, deal with REAL. If it isn’t real, in the flesh, genuine - then it isn’t for real right NOW. I live in the now. Unlike many others, as some would have people believe, I am not in the slightest afraid of change. I’m very good at making command decisions. I will know what a good, happy home is like in this lifetime and I will be getting paid to do the things I do, because I am very good at them. I don’t need to be coddled. I’m a natural born goalie who has been raped and tortured in her lifetime, so it stands to reason, I’m not one to be hemming and hawing, waiting around for something that may or may not happen, just sitting around not living. It’s not my style. I’m all about quality and I’m not all that complicated. I share my life with real people who I can hug and kiss and tickle and give the old fist bump to and if that’s something that doesn’t interest you, then just keep walking pal. Keep walking. If it does interest you, it’s not like I’m hiding or anything. My email address hasn’t changed and neither has my phone number.
I just like people in general. We are all on the same planet aren’t we. I can’t stand-up and say, “Hey world, I made this planet.” Can you? I can however, just put out that I appreciate I have a place to live and everyday I open my eyes and am still breathing is a pretty good day right from the start. I may not be running about thumping other people with text from holy books, but I have faith and faith is just plain faith.
As long as I just continue to be me, the interesting, hockey loving, woman who CARES simply because that’s who I am, but who DOESN’T CARE if my face and my name is known simply because I want every-freakin’-body else see me doing it, well, heaven, hell, limbo, or just dead as a human and that’s it will be as it is at exactly the time it happens. If I am meant to be famous, I will be famous. If I am meant to write a book about my life, it will happen. I really only know a few things for sure, in all confidence. One, I will get a job with an NHL organization, because I’m meant to get a job with an NHL organization. I have the kind of qualities and true love of the sport of ice hockey to be a great asset in helping to grow the game and helping to get some of the bad wrap the NHL gets for being too “violent.” That I can do and I’ll earn a living doing just that. Two, I’m only interested in being in a committed relationship with a man who is also only interested in the same and plans to get married. I’m 41, and thought I’m not out on the hunt to nab me a man just for the sake of nabbing me a man, I just know I’m not looking to get involved with anyone who is “playing the field” 0r might possibly, one day, perhaps, think about marriage as one of a few options looking to the future.
I also know I’m not the only person who likes the smell of fresh ice and there just has got to be at least a few other people out there somewhere who also know that some guitars smell differently than some other guitars. There’s just got to be!
I’ll be thanking the mysterious powers of love in the Universe,that some call God, for my frozen Swanson turkey dinner with all the fixings, yup, even cranberry sauce and for the hockey game that’ll be on NBC this Thursday. I’ll do that by eating the frozen turkey dinner while watching hockey and having a good time making comments to the TV, perhaps chirping a goalie here and there and knowing that I’ll be alone in physical, but I’ll be sharing a hockey game with an assortment of hockey lovers just like me. Some of the American hockey fans will likely be eating our Thanksgiving dinners at the same time (I hope you have your own cranberry sauce though – I get all “goalie stingy” about the cranberry sauce, so eyes on your own plate my hockey loving friends – eyes on your plate ;-D ). I’ll be in some pretty good company I’m sure.
Peace – mia – email@example.com Ice hockey goalies have bigger, well, you know…uh….um…yeah….uh…STICKS. There’s a musical guitarist who also sings out there in the world who I think might want to know that making someone prove to you that they love you is an indication that you’ve put an awful lot of conditions on something that’s meant to be unconditional. It’s just friendly, loving advice from someone who took A WHOPPER of hit that directly correlates to you … and you KNOW IT!
Oh and if my own government really feels the need for some some reason to tap my cell phone or get all up in my personal business, well, I don’t really have anything to hide from you and you can just ask. I mean I am a little weird, but it won’t bother me personally. At least that way you’ll be able to trace the source of the “auto-bot” calls I get and no one needs to spy on me for me to tell everyone, I wear neither boxers or briefs. He, he, he. I’m a girl silly. I wear bloomers and they’re very comely, I can assure you. Would you like to come find out for yourself?
I don’t think much of Cancer, so this poem was written to let it know:
Say Good Bye Cancer
You’re getting taken out in every one of your forms and fashions
You can’t overcome Team Love, together with all of our various passions
We grow stronger hour by hour
You’re getting weaker and losing power
You’re not needed on land or in sea
And you’ll certainly have nothing to do with me
You’re going extinct on Earth, it’s very own face
We’ll relentlessly end you right in your place
No life on Earth wants you here
We’ll live on without you and do it with cheer
You’re a life taker, so you shall not persist
You’ll soon be a word that does not exist
Peace – mia – firstname.lastname@example.org – it’s what you get “C” word for messing with hockey and children and the music ya bully.
Yes, I know that I stated I wouldn’t be posting on this blog anymore. I’ve been slowly working on editing a few posts and getting all the posts I still have from a few different blogs and places all together into one location. That’s happening little by little and I’m in no particular rush to get that complete at this point in my life. So, yes, I decided instead of waiting for that to get accomplished, and it will, I’ll just post on this blog every-so-often. Always know I appreciate any who may take the time to read or link or “like” anything I share on the internet. There’s still an issue with “in-post” links, so that’s the reason there aren’t links in my post at the moment. That’ll change. Thanks for understanding.
Also, I do still have a Twitter account. It’s not @creasesinger right now. There are many reasons I stopped tweeting, but the possibility is still there. I realize there are some Twitter “follow” prompts for @creasesinger on this blog. You can’t “follow” me on Twitter at the moment, but perhaps in the future that’ll also change. I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I disappeared off the face the Earth simply because I’m not Tweeting.
There are some things that “appeared” on this particular blog that weren’t necessarily all “my words”, so I’m taking the steps to make sure what’s been conveyed are my own personal views. In some ways, I’m sure some of the way I see things in the world are very similar to others, so I’m sure some thoughts expressed out there are on the same “wavelength” as mine.
I wanted to let the Tampa Bay Lightning and all of Bolts Nation know that I’m still with ya. All the way! I think they did a great job against Montreal and it’s great to have that wonderfully thing I know appreciate greatly known as “team mentality”. So GO BOLTS! I bought a ticket to go see The Lightning play the Yotes (Phoenix Coyotes) tomorrow in Glendale, AZ. The seat’s on the glass, directly across the visitor bench. I did that for a few hockey-loving reasons. One, of course, I wanted to bring some “Road Thunder” to an away game for the boys. Two, it’s a hockey game, so ya know, why wouldn’t I make a trek out to the “dessert” to see some hockey. Three, I am very happy for hockey, the Yotes fans, and all those who know as well as I do that hockey is a great sport and can do well, even in an Arizona dessert(yeah, I know – it’s spelled DESERT, but a little ice hockey in your dessert might be kinda cool if you really sit down and think about it). I decided for my own personal reasons that I need to take care of a few things and taking a trip to Arizona right this moment while certain other things in my life are happening isn’t quite the best of ideas. I could sell, or transfer my seat, however, I consider that seat to signify a few important things.
That seat, should it remain empty; if the Bolts see that empty seat on the glass, across from the bench and happen to have been made of this blog post, well they’ll just know that means “Road Thunder” for them and perhaps it’ll be good enough for them to help them get a couple road points. Also, if a Yotes fan happens to notice that the seat is empty and manages to make his or her way down there to see the game at ice level, well, I can consider it just a bit of fellow hockey love is all and I hope you have fun at the game. The money goes to hockey and that’s plenty good enough for me. If nothing else, maybe a fan sitting next to that empty seat will have a place to put food or a purse or something and that’s okay with me.
There’s a lot on my mind and I’m sure I’ll post a little more often, for now, the one thing I know for sure is that what some have the called the “NHL Old Boys Club” is where this hockey-loving belongs. I’ll wear you down fellas. It’s inevitable. You love me and you know it. Even now, I think Yzerman’s thinking, “yup, I’m going to the genius hockey mastermind who hired Mia before any other hockey club wised up and did and everyone will know exactly how awesome the Tampa Bay Lightning as an organization really is.” Yup, admit it NHL; it’s possible a woman can hold her own just fine when it comes to hockey operations and some day soon that’s going to happen. Perhaps professional ice hockey is a “man’s world”. Well, this particular woman, whose true passion is ice hockey, likes the fact there are men in the world, so it’s all the same to me no matter how it gets labeled. If it’s hockey love, it’s hockey love. If it’s team, it’s team. It’s just that simple. I’ll happily go through it, whatever “it” may be, through any kind of weather, no matter what it take guys. I’m pretty sure you already know that, so why put of the inevitable eh?
I discovered something about myself recently; I’m perfect. Yup, I’m perfect at being imperfect because I’m human just like everybody else. It happens and I’m okay with that and I hope you are as well.
I’m good for the sport of hockey fellas. Plus, you can all make jokes and say things like “look at us, manly men, who distracted the silly woman with a shiny object called Lord Stanley’s Cup. ” I wouldn’t even care if I had to wear a T-shirt that read “Token Female” on it. Nope, that wouldn’t bother me one bit. As far as I’m concerned, that’s just free clothing and there’s nothing with that. Maybe I let you distract me with a shiny object because I know how you work. Ya just never know do ya “Old Boys Club”. One thing you can be sure of, I love you no matter what anyway and when you do hire me, it’ll be because you guys got some smarts and you know what’s best. ;-)
May love and light find you wherever you are and here’s to you clan goalie, I’m always with you (even if you do weird things no one really understands ;-) )
Peace – mia – email@example.com
oh and this may make sense to somewhere out there – “The White One”. ILUM
This will be the last blog post on this blog. I know, I previously stated that I was going to change the domain name and that part is still true to some degree. After some thought however, it is best to simply start again instead of having all of this content moved to http://www.singingfromthecrease.com. Essentially, because I know exactly what happened and exactly who is responsible for it, I’ll be taking the safe route on this one and simply removing that possibility. While I understand this may not make sense to some who read this, that’s okay, it doesn’t really need to make sense. Simply know that I’ll blog again and from the “singingfromthecrease” name, which I promised I wouldn’t change, so I won’t. Moving on to the main focus of this last post from this blog, which of course is mostly hockey oriented; I’ll make a statement to the hockey team I will support through the difficult times and the good times. Yes, it’s not a secret my goal is to move to the Tampa Bay area and #BeTheThunder live and person. Until such time though, just know I’ll be listening to “Mish” and I’ll be watching the games. I’ll be vibing my hockey love to you each and every game, each and every game, each and every period. I’ll likely “love chirp” ya here and there and I know you’ll okay with that, because I’ll know that you all know that I know I’m not the one who has to do it. I’ll be cheering you on when your down and I’ll be encouraging you when you’re in the lead, ever mindful of the fact that it’s possible the other team may find a way to regain the lead. I promise I won’t get all pissed off when you lose a game. I’ll simply think about the good things you did during that game and hope you build on those good things the next game, while still being aware that the next team you play may put some need for you guys to adjust together as a team on the ice. I’ll always know there’s another team on the ice and I’ll always know that sometimes, which is normal in a long season, the other team just is having one of “those” games, despite all your best efforts. I’ll be “air coaching”, as I always do, because I’m just “one of those” kinds of hockey fans. I’ll be focused for the entire game (baring emergencies of course), if you will. Other than that, I won’t be blogging a lot, nor will I be tweeting, at least for a little while. Just know I’m with you and who knows, one day this upcoming season, I might just show up at a game at the Tampa Bay Times Forum. I too want to win a Stanley Cup. It’s a bit more difficult for me, considering I don’t play hockey and I am a woman, but it is still possible. A woman already has her name on the cup and it was in fact, the Tampa Bay Lightning who had a woman in the net during an exhibition game. I’ll find ways to drop hints that the Tampa Bay Lightning should hire me. Some of the things I’ve written in my blogs, tweets and for Bolts by the Bay, go a long way in at least proving I do know a lot about the game, the history of the game and that I’m a straight, relentless, pain in the ass when it comes to my life long dream of getting my name on a Stanley Cup. No one can get his or her name on the Stanley Cup all by his or herself, but if you guys are vibing on winning a cup, well so am I. You know I’m with you. I’ve got limited resources on my own at the moment, that’ll change. I’ll #BeTheThunder from afar until I’m able to move to the area. Any assistance I can get with that would be good, however, I’ll manage with or without it and #BeTheThunder in the way I can each and every day.
As for the Washington Capitals – I DON’T NEGOTIATE WITH TERRORISTS!
Peace, love, hockey and light to you all. Go Bolts Nation – GO! Goalies – I don’t need to type it, but I will – I’ll always think we rule the world, it’s just how we do. ;-) Music is for everyone. Stanley’s cup is pretty nifty. (ps-someone used the WRONG hockey fan – good thing this isn’t a magic blog)
Because an angry mob in the Verizon Center demanded “Unleash the Fury,” the fury got unleashed. Now, bear in mind, it wasn’t me asking for the fury to be unleashed. When the fury comes to you, just remember – you did ask for it. I had nothing to do with it whatsoever. And since so many of you are just so stuck on human law and have, on numerous occasions claimed that we “live in a litigious society,” well then…let the litigation begin then. This is going to hurt. I won’t lie about it.
If you don’t know whose daughter your messin’ with, it’s best to not mess with her. If you don’t know whose woman your messin’ with, it’s best to not mess with her. If you are so stuck on money and the ONLY way to get the message across is to HURT you in the wallet, what do you want me to do about it?
I do have to make a correction about the kind of car I’ve mentioned at least twice, once in my other and once on this blog; apparently, it’s more like “a fine American muscle car.” Who knew? Someone did.
Sometimes good men are straight badasses. Sometimes good women go beast mode. It happens.
I’ve recently been told by a young man that “he packs a punch.” Well, my Daddy didn’t raise no dummy and I can take a punch just fine. The unfortunate part for you who likes to hit women is that when this woman gets back up, she straight knocks you the (bleep, rainbows and unicorns, blah, blah, blah, hockey language, child friendly words) OUT!
Also, ladies, I’m one of you, however, if the fellas got a problem with a pain in the ass, naggy, vamping, man-eating little prissy girl and they don’t want to hit a woman, well, if you’re not a part of the solution, I’ll gladly help the fellas out so they don’t have take the hit for knocking out a girl. I wouldn’t want you guys to be the bad guys if that’s the situation. I’ll hit a woman if she’s a love sucking destroyer of all things good. NO PROBLEM.
Of course, that sort of thing is ALWAYS the last resort. We got to the last resort. Nope, it’s not a luxury spa in the mountains either. It’s not that kind of resort.
What do you want me to do about it?
I also talked to a man recently who asked me if I knew what “even tide” was? Well, the answer to that questions is “yes.” My return question is: “Do you know that the second death is?”
Now what is it exactly that “everybody knows?”
No, Stephen Hawking, I rather think mankind won’t be finding out the mystery of the Universe anytime soon. There will be wonder and discovery and joy and room for dreams and hope and imagination.
If “you” (and it doesn’t matter which “you” you think you are) aren’t ready – no worries. I’m in no big hurry.
Love, kindness, sharing and all kinds of wonderful, lovely sights, sounds and smells are all around you. Check out the porcupine; that one beautiful defense system right there.
I’ve been told recently I can “over winter” in Montana (of course that could have been a huge pile of BS), but it doesn’t really matter either way, because there’s no ocean and there’s no ice hockey in Montana is there? Did you think I was a migratory bird or something?
I asked for help being distracted from hockey for a very good reason. If you love something, it’s quite the right thing to do to let it go. Besides, I’d already written that I knew hockey would continue on with or without me anyway, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
As for the music; I’m just one little human woman walking around here, so by all means, don’t take my word for it, but I get the feeling this won’t even be considered a fight. So, no worries eh.
It’s seems to me it’s not wise to celebrate a win until the final buzzer.
Safety always comes first.
For those who subscribe to the idea that there are three parts of the human psyche called the ID, the EGO and the SUPEREGO; doesn’t it make sense that those of you spent your time building your EGO, weren’t spending time building your SUPEREGO? I barely have an ego at all and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I don’t won the road do I? No. I don’t think the world revolves around me do I? No. It doesn’t. I like to share. I like all different kinds. I TRUST IN LOVE.
I could stop breathing tomorrow, but while I’m still breathing…
I think the Lightning are going to be just fine. Go Bolts! I won’t need to use Twitter to cheer you on and I know you know what I mean. I’ll get there. Until then, I’m still with ya! YAY HOCKEY!
Oh, and when I used the term “barn”, it’s a hockey thing – one day, I hope you all understand. The more hockey fans the better.
Be careful whose head you attempt to get in – you might find out you can’t get beck out and you wouldn’t want that. Does anyone know who’s in whose head? Someone does.
I love you all for being who you are and thanks to all of you who love and share and try and give and work and stay with it through thick and thin. It’s not always easy, I know. None of us are truly alone. None of us.
I am the one who wrote “F’ Cindarella.” For one thing, she’s a fictional cartoon princess. Although, if the shoes were ice skates and the pumpkin was shaped like a guitar or something, maybe I’d think differently. I know, it’s a great story and there are plenty of little girls who dream of such, so go for it little ladies – me, well, I rather think my “story” isn’t exactly “Disney” material, but then again, one never knows I suppose.
Enough about me though – I’ve got some Tampa Bay Lightning hockey to think about. It’s getting to be about that time. ;-)
Hey, is it Friday the 13th again?
Peace – Mia