I don't know why hockey seasons have to all start and stop at the same time. I play at half of the rinks in the Bay Area (Logitech Ice in San Jose, Oakland Ice Center in Oakland, Fremont Ice-O-Plex in Fremont and Belmont Iceland in Belmont) and they are all on the same damn schedule, which means that we're all dealing with playoffs and getting our shit together for the new season at the same time.

For most people, the new season means giving their money to the league (NCWHL), the rink (Oakland) or the captain (Logitech). But when you're the captain, it means a bit of work. Granted, this is my 5th or 6th season in the position so it's almost down to a science but it's still work. That work is manageable.

Side note: I'm starting a EEE (lowest possible level) version of my co-ed team and we still need a few players. Email me if you might like to play, but only if you are looking for a mellow group. Win-hungry folks will be happier somewhere else, I just want to have fun and play with my homies. Yes, I said homies.

The NCWHL does something unique and wonderful. We evaluate our skaters to make sure no division has people who don't have the skills to keep up or, more importantly, that there are no ringers to scare the shit out of everyone else. It's the only league of it's kind in the country and I am, indeed, proud to be a player and a member of the board, that cocky, humble little team that works really hard to make sure that everyone is having the best time possible.

This year, for a great variety of reasons, we're evaluating every skater in the league. At last count, that number is getting close to 180 ladies. Hey, that rhymed! This means coordinating volunteer evaluators (speaking of which, if you play hockey with any degree of skill and live in the Bay Area, consider yourself tapped to help out. Email me and I'll set you up with a list of dates and an instruction sheet.) to watch skaters at each of 20+ sessions.

The big hoohah officially starts on Tuesday but I'm exhausted already. But I'm ready. I spent today wading through emails, begging additional volunteers and coordinating the folks who can't make their regularly scheduled sessions. My spreadsheets are up to date and my evites have been sent out (why I didn't use more evites sooner I don't know).

Bring it on, ladies. Let's get this show on the road. T minus 2 days and counting.

Reason #805 That Andreatan is my Hero
She not only disposed of the maggoty dead mouse her mousetrap caught, she vaccuumed up the poops and messes that little rodent made while I stayed inside, cool and dry, working on league-wide evaluation stuff.

Back from a few fun-filled days in Anaheim for the CPRS conference. It was held at the Anaheim Convention Center, a glass and steel monstrosity just steps away from the Happiest Place on Earth, aka Disneyland. I was supposed to work the Continuing Education booth, since the Recreation Department at school usually does this but the call of the mouse was just too strong. Gail and I rolled in around 3:30 on Wednesday, learned that the park was open until 8, stopped by the convention center, then ran (stopping for beer first) to the park.

The next morning, I got up at 6:30 to work the booth at 7. At around 7:30, I noticed that I hadn't signed up to be there until 1 pm. Oops. The upside was that a woman who actually works for CPRS was scheduled to be there. She sent Maureen (my advisor and hero) and I off to Disneyland, instructing us to return only for break time. Maureen hadn't been there since the early 80's and I guess a lot has changed. I did my best as tour guide, showing her all around the park and scoring us some quick access to rides with long lines by being single riders. I had a great time and oh yes, in the end I did spend some time at the conference.

Admitting Defeat
When we first bought our house in late 2000 (closing in early 2001), it was a nightmarish process, filled with sleazy mortgage guys, outbidding and last but not least, a pueblo that was being masqueraded as a house, all for the low price of $250,000. Not fully understanding why, but knowing that we'd been emphatically told to do so, we took two (well, three, if you count the schmucks we first talked to, the schmucks who tried to get us to pay 10% interest on our house. That is NOT a typo, but it is another story) to the very end. Schmuck #1 had the worst rates of the two so we dumped him shortly before closing. He then came back with a bill for an appraisal that we didn't know about, had never ordered and were of course not going to pay for. A harshly worded letter a few months down the line cleared that up, but again, another story. Well, I guess I just told all of that one.

Anyway. In the end, we found John, who was reasonably nice and offered good rates, even before Saint Greenspan came along to lower the interest rates later that year. We signed our lives away with John the Tuesday before we actually got the keys. For us, that was sort of a special day, a day that marked a great deal of accomplishment, the culmination of months, cobbling together closing costs, and in the end, the mark of a passage from semi-adulthood into true adulthood (though I'm sure I did make a fart joke on the way there). But for John, it was just business. Makes sense. That's what he does, mortgages.

But these are not ordinary debt assumptions. These are houses, little (or big) manifestations of hopes and dreams. I'll admit freely that I could see the future in our little house, more good years with Andrea, more dogs (okay, I didn't really see *that* coming) and yes, very much so, a child. John took us through the reams of paperwork and sent us on our way, homeowners.

Twice since then, we've refinanced, getting the payment low enough that the last year or so when I've not had a 'real' job haven't killed us. I'm grateful for that and for the myriad of tax writeoffs the house provides. Now that I'm working again, it's time to explore refinancing once again. So I dutifully email John with a list of questions, like 'how long do I need to be working before we qualify?' you know, lame stuff like that. Stuff I need answers to.

Five days later, I get a response from the man:
Hi Liz,

Please give me a call.

John

I think it's time to find someone else, someone who at the very least can answer emails so I don't have to play phone tag to get basic answers. Have someone you like?

Finally
A couple of finally things happened this weekend. First, Heed got the break he was looking for when a friend and her husband decided to give him a try. I had no idea their backyard was so big, Heed went nuts running around it, playing with a dishtowel, rubbing his scrawny self on it then running in giant circles around it, then, finally, actually bringing it to us. Heed loves Marc, his new dad, kept giving him kisses and returning to him. It was really sweet. We left a bed Heed likes and a crate for the daytime, that night we got an email with a picture of the little guy, comfy in his bed. Like usual, he had tucked himself in for the night, even in a new home, he knew what to do. I am praying that he doesn't mess it up.

The other finally is having my second win as a goalie. Once again, I let in only one goal. We won 4-1. I'm thrilled to end a shitty season on such a good note.

The end of the season does mark the start of evaluation season for the women's league. No matter how much energy we (the board) put into thinking through each possible scenario, no matter how redundant my presentation seemed at the sparsely attended annual meeting seemed, the process can never be clear enough. Our humble president sent out the official email less than an hour ago and I've already had 10 emails about it. It's going to be a long month.