Somehow, though, I managed to make it to rink (from Queen and Roncesvalles to just-south of Bathurst and Dupont) in under a half-hour. I got on the ice at maybe 5 after 9, no time for a warm-up skate.
Christ. The first time on the ice in close to a year - and only 8 people showed up, so we were playing 4-on-4 for an hour.
I was the slowest player on the ice, had the least stamina and was also the rustiest. Already, I hurt; tomorrow will be agony. But - by gar! - it was worth it. Having skates on my feet, a stick in my hand and chasing after a little round rubber thing is one of the most "right" feelings I know.
After, I went out for coffee and breakfast to the lovely Grapefruit Moon cafe on Bathurst, whether the conversation ranged from how people played (consensus: most of us have had better games), to Iraq to Tom Green and whether Steve's toddler was running around the place too much.
Good times ... I'm so glad I'm doing this again.
Speaking of good times, I had a surprisingly pleasant evening at Laura's last night, having been invited for Thanksgiving dinner. Met a another half-dozen members of her family and was once again struck by the fact that no one made any snide remarks about my ancient self being involved young'n. The food was very good and the conversation much more interesting than Laura had led me to expect. After all the forewarning, I was surprised to find I liked them.
Still, I had one or two drinks more than I should have, so was pleased to get a ride downtown; that may have made the difference in allowing me to wake up and get out of the apartment in time to head to rink.
And that's about it. I trust my Gentle Readers will forgive me the lameness of this post.