... or any given Saturday in the Fall -- that's what my day feels like. It's been non-stop hockey since 1030 hrs this morning and I'm lovin' it, mainly because each and every game I've watched has been most excellent. It helps matters that my Beloved Wings won their game in a shoot-out (so did the Blackhawks, as if I give a big rat's ass about THAT) (Well, I sorta did, as it's always satisfying to watch the Flightless Birds lose). It's been a great day of great hockey.
We're in the second intermission of the Heritage Classic and that game has been pretty satisfying, too. I love outdoor games but I don't think I'd go to one... especially not in Calgary where it's only ten degrees Fahrenheit (with a wind chill of five below) as we speak. No-no-no-no. Yet the Calgary stadium doesn't appear to have a single empty seat. Ya gotta be tough to live up there, that's fer shure.
That said, I'm getting a kick out of watching the Flames jet around the ice looking for all the world like a swarm of psychedelic bees. They're wearing "throw-back" uniforms in honor of the 1920s Calgary Tigers of the old Western Canada Hockey League... and they look like this:
See? Bees. Psychedelic bees. Gimmee drugs.