I grew up in Atlanta. Where it is hot. And ice hockey is not a real sport. But, when in Pittsburgh during a Stanley Cup finals game, it’s hard not to get sucked in to watching the Penguins. I sent the fiance’ off with a friend to the sports bar for a pitcher of beer. I needed to paint the finger and toenails. To do the dinner dishes since he was kind enough to cook the meatloaf. To catch up on my online homework.
But, shhhh. I’m watching ice hockey.
And there is no way I’m turning off a 3-2 game with 6 minutes to go when the home team is winning.
If anyone asks, I was definitely reading Vogue and exfoliating.