And I don't drive

Opening day! No, of course not baseball, Dear Reader. Were this spring, that would have been a good guess. It is now hockey season. Officially. I'm still learning to watch the NHL on TV, but I love to go to the local ice rink and watch the Junior B League team, the Eugene Generals. There's usually about 500 people at games so finding a good seat is relatively easy. They only play on weekends because the players are 15-20 years old and have to bother with high school. Many of them at least. When a fight breaks out on the ice, I am struck with the notion that these kids are the ones who would be in the at-risk classes at school. On ritalin. It's a good thing there is hockey to allow them to vent. Between periods I love to watch the zamboni re-surface the ice. I count the laps, waiting until the right moment to return to my seat. The regular zamboni guy is pretty efficient, careful not to overlap his rounds too much, avoiding additional spins around the rink. The back-up takes a couple of extra turns, and a little more time to get the ice ready. I go to work pretty early in the morning and see the custodial crew putting the finishing touches on the library as night gives way to day. Vacuuming a library would be pretty daunting were it not for the riding vacuum cleaner. This thing is so cool! It's a carpet zamboni. I have come around corners and almost been hit by it. I'd love to drive the carpet zamboni. Even just get a ride on it. I am limited by space and furniture in my apartment to cleaning only the high-traffic areas when I vacuum. I don't think there is enough room for a carpet zamboni to turn around for the next pass. All this talk of zambonis has me now thinking about Snoopy and Woodstock "talking" about hockey. How does Snoopy always begin his novels? "It was a dark and stormy night." Now that Dear Reader is simply inane writing. Pedestrian even.