Laudetur Iesus Christus!
Nunc et in aeternum! Amen.
Memorial of Saint Bridget of Sweden
The Lord’s timing is perfect in all things both spiritual and temporal. Srsly.
So we were at dinner tonight and I was probably finishing up my second Shirley Temple (I told you I’m an addict) when the hostess walks up to me and says, “Allie dear [we’re regulars], look over at the bar and see who’s there.”
So I turn nonchalantly (must be subtle) and there is a (retired) Red Wing sitting at the bar. Kirk Maltby was sitting at the bar eating supper and talking to someone.
Of course, being the Wing Nut that I am and having missed the opportunity in the past (such a yutz), I was determined to get an autograph. Yes, I am that kind of fanatic. Never mind the fact that I have a penant that was signed by a whole mess of players (a good chunk of them retired and a good chunk of them Hall of Famers … and most, importantly, Chris Osgood). Nope, I needed an autograph.
Wait, I have to take a moment for the gids from those linked pics of Ozzie to pass …
heh heh heh heh heh heh *squeeeeeeeeeeeee!*
And don’t think that I am not giddy right now. I am. There are few things that can get me giddy like a little fangirl. Chris Osgood (when I type it, I keep putting a “t” at the end so he becomes “Christ Osgood” … he may be good but he ain’t messianic) is one of those “things”/”persons.” Whenever my friends want to watch me get all a-fluster, all they have to do is say, “Chris Osgood” and I giggle. What can I say? He’s my hockey crush and he OUGHT to be in the Hall of Fame by now. But I’m not biased.
Moving on …
Heh heh. (Darn it.)
Wanting this autograph required one thing: for me to ask him. I had to work up the moxie to go over and ask him.
I have no moxie. No cajones. Must have left them at home.
Until my salvation came in the form of the hostess who said, “Come with me, Allie, you giddy girl.” She was probably amused because I am usually pretty quiet watching Jeopardy!, chatting, and drinking my Shirley Temples (I am a six year old in a 25 year old’s body).
We walked over to him and she said that I have something to ask him. So after I gushed class-ily for a moment (I probably stuttered a bit), I asked him if he would be willing to sign something for me.
What did I have? A hockey ticket? A hockey program book thing? A miniature hockey stick (my nephew loves it)?
Nope. I had a cocktail napkin. How very first-world ghetto of me.
He asked me my name and he wrote me a nice message and signed it. He didn’t even ask how to spell it … he just got it right! SCORE!!!
I then thanked him profusely and went back to my seat.
My mother was visibly amused at how giddy her usually reserved daughter was.
“Mom, you know there few things that can make me giddy as a schoolgirl. Red Wings are one of those things. Getting a personalized autograph takes the cake!”
“Yes, I know, Allie, but it’s still amusing to see you like this.”
I probably had the stupidest grin on my face.
How stupid was the giddy grin?
Tickets to a Red Wings game (good seats) + Latin-English Liturgy of the Hours (1970) + Allie = my stupid grin
I couldn’t wipe it off my face. And I lost my appetite. I now have a very nice lunch waiting for me in the fridge. Oh yes. I think I had like two bites of it and then I couldn’t eat.
My mother asked me, “What would you do if it was Chris Osgood?”
I had to stifle a very giddy giggle.
“Oh, I don’t know, mother.”
What can I say?
Now for three gratuitous Ozzie pictures.
Did I mention that I lurve Chris Osgood? Yes? Good.
So yeah, I got an autograph from an awesome (and very kind) retired Red Wing.
What does all of this have to do with timing?
Because just today, I was all, “I need to put something on the blog to countdown to the Red Wings home opener. Hockey season is, after all, the most important non-liturgical season of the year!”
So, I found that WordPress has a widget for a countdown. I don’t really feel like messing with code right now so that will have to to until I can find something I can putz with in between essays and such. One of these days, I am going to really learn how to write code so I can be a real code monkey and not just some n00b geek. I should have taken more tech classes in college. Those were fun. I had fun making animated Catholic gifs and ones that were just plain nonsense. Some of my more Catholicky college friends appreciated them. Image editing was fun … too much fun.
All right, now I am on an Ozzie/Wings binge. Don’t judge me. I still have two months until the season starts. Maybe some friends and I can get together for a pre-season game or even splurge on some regular season tickets. (If anyone is interested in contributing to the “Send Ms. Allie to a hockey game” fund, let her know). Those are always fun. We’re all decked out in our Wings finery and we’re yelling our lungs out and shouting “born and raised in … South Detroit!!!!!” when it’s played at the end of a winning game. Who am I kidding, I do that anyway.
Onto the binge!!!!
Whenever this commercial comes on, there must be silence. lol
His Canadian accent is sooooooooooo adorable!!!!! So is his smile. *le giddy hockey fangirl sigh* Stop judgin’ meh.
He can vacuum my house and set some nice mood music for me anytime! *purr*
(I used to be able to really do a chill-inducing purr … haven’t trilled my “r’s” much lately … it’s all in the proper relaxation of the tongue). It’s amazing what you find out about your hidden talents when bored (tee hee hee). Saucy (but good) Catholic girl I was/am. lulz.
All right, that’s enough of that … for now. I assure you, the closer we get to the Wings home opener, the more Wings/hockey-related stuff you will see. Mostly in videos and pictures and such. I can’t wait until I can take my Ozzie jersey out of my closet and wear him again. He looks so lonely in there. Maybe one night when it’s a bit cooler, I’ll wear him to bed. The most expensive nightshirt evah but it’s comfortable! Thank the Lord I don’t move a lot in my sleep!
Have a nice night! Thanks for enduring this *squee* hockey fangirl’s giddiness. You have had time taken off your Purgatory most probably so it’s not for naught.