Confession

I am embarassed to say how old I was before I was straight on which finger was the forefinger.

Let's just say I may or may not have been over the age of 25 before I had that figured out. (In my defense, in childhood it IS almost exclusively called "the pointer" or "the index finger". Forefinger?! Forefinger?! Shouldn't that be your ring finger? That is the fourth finger...fourfinger...forefinger. The confusion well into adulthood seems totally justified. Totally.)

There have been several (and I mean several) other "basic" bits of knowledge that I have failed to pick up on until well beyond one might believe.

Has anyone else been the victim of delayed enlightenment? I'm curious to know what you didn't know you didn't know...before you knew it.

(Seriously...forefinger? So confusing...)

Another reason to love home

My parents have a vat of M&Ms in the hutch in their kitchen.

I don't even really like M&Ms (unless they're peanut butter M&Ms....then that's another story) and rarely do I actually indulge in said vat of said M&Ms.

But, there's just something AWEsome about the fact that you could use a ladle to scoop out M&Ms...if you wanted to. And for the record, no such vat existed while I was growing up. This vessel of M&Ms showed up about the time my parents had their first grandchildren...

But, so long as we're on the subject, here are other things I think my parents should have vats of in their kitchen:

-the creme inside Krispy Kreme glazed creme-filled doughnuts

-the chocolate peanut butter frosting from Babycakes (in Kansas City)

-Red Robin's Campfire sauce

-my Dad's homemade fudge (but not the maraschino cherry fudge....gross...)

-almond and/or cashew roca

-rolls and cinnamon butter from Texas Roadhouse

What would you put in the vat?

Go Team Go

Every New Year's Eve, there is an annual cutthroat hockey matchup celebrating the bitter rivalry between the Tri-City Americans and the Spokane Chiefs. While I am not a diehard fan for either team (I've spent about the same amount of years living in both cities), I do enjoy watching me some good hockey. Last New Year's Eve, some friends and I wanted to attend the aforementioned festive New Year's Eve event, but the tickets were sold out (boo...hiss.).

Long about October of this year, I woke up thinking, "I want to go to the hockey game in the Tri-Cities on New Year's Eve." And, not to worry, we got tickets. (phew...)

I went with my friend Kendra.

We found our seats, looked around in dismay, checked with the guy in the row behind us (he and his wife were 25-year season ticket holders), looked around in dismay again and sat down. Our seats, Section B-Row 3-Seats 5 and 6, were directly behind the Americans' bench. Directly behind. I have only watched hockey games from crazy nosebleed seats. I have never sat near the ice and have never sat near the team. This is what I learned whilst sitting there:

1. Hockey players swear a lot. While this shouldn't surprise me, I suppose, it did get old. Sheesh, be a little more creative yeah?

2. Those hockey guys are babies. Seriously, the vast majority are valiantly trying to suggest the peach fuzz clinging to their upper lip and chin is bonafide facial hair. It's not. I assure you, it's not.

3. For real, there were a lot of potty mouths on the team. Although, thanks to the indestructo plexiglass, we couldn't really hear it. But, as a professional-grade lipreader, I knew what they were saying and did wonder if they kissed their mothers with those mouths.

4. The backup goalie has a bum deal. I don't even remember his name. The poor guy got all suited up for the game (who knows how much that gear weighs) and he stood there at the door of the box and opened it for the players coming off of the ice. The whole game. Open the door, shut the door, open the door, shut the door. He practices with the team, does the drills, suits up, and is relegated to the job of door opener for the entire game.

5. I am a pansy. One guy, this guy, Lazo,somehow got injured and was gushing blood out of his chin and kept playing. It wasn't until the blood was dripping all over his jersey that they pulled him out, took him to the locker room, butterfly bandaged him up and then sent him back out on the ice. I have never gushed blood out of my chin, but I'm pretty sure if I did the rest of my day would include lazing around on the couch while sipping a smoothie. It would not include heading back out into an icy foray to be pummeled again, and again, and again. I'm still trying to decide if I find his courage admirable, or just plain stupid.

6. Watching the fans is just as fun as watching the players which is just as fun as watching the game (maybe more fun....). There we were before the game enjoying the luck of our seats when a rowdy man came down the aisle bellowing that we were in the wrong seats. Huh? After showing him our tickets ("That's no proof! You can't prove it!"), talking in a soothing, calm voice ("aazhhhhh, aazzhhhhh, daddy be home soon."), and with the additional cajoling of the 25-year-season-ticket holders, he conceded that we were not the devil's spawn sent to take his seat and sat himself down next to Kendra. Ray, it was apparent at 'hello', had some cognitive disadvantages.

So, we watched the game with Ray. He was a wealth of information. He chatted it up with the assistant coaches and water boys throughout the game which is how we got the updates on the player who was hit in the ear with the hockey puck ("He's laying down because he's really dizzy still!"). He yelled with appropriate fan passion when he disapproved of a call (his favorite phrase being, "What game are you watching?!"). At the end of each period, he jumped up out of his seat and declared, "It's walking around time! I love walking around time!" Although we were slightly concerned when he meandered back up to the aisle at the beginning of the third period with a hard lemonade (Should cognitively impaired individuals ingest substances that would further impair their cognition? A deeply philosophical moral dilemma...), Ray turned out to be a fun addition to the game-watching. Although, Kendra found his staring a little creepy.

Happy New Year, everyone.