Hockey is back!
Blistering slap shots, dramatic kick saves and center-ice throw-downs will return to the NHL starting Jan. 19. Due to the strike delay, the Stanley Cup is scheduled for two weeks later. The next strike will commence in February.
Not that I’m bitter
But I think they should start making those big, foam hands with a different upraised finger exclusively for hockey fans.
In Lewiston, near Central Maine Medical Center, somebody last Friday turned in a box containing 30 joints found in a nearby parking lot. Of course, this being Lewiston, the question is whether the box contained 30 marijuana cigarettes or 30 elbows, knees and knuckles.
My thoughts on the Hagel nomination
Fire by the numbers
Number of people hurt in an afternoon fire on Gamage Avenue in Auburn: 0. Number of people watching the action with mean dogs on leashes: 73. Number of people who begged legendary photographer Russ Dillingham to take their picture: 119. Number of people who claimed they saw everything: 43. Number of people who actually saw anything: 1. Number of dolts who walked right over the firefighter hoses because they couldn’t be inconvenienced to cross the street: 23. Number of people who asked a cop, a fireman or myself what caused the fire, even as the flames were still rolling: 26. Number of people who’d be willing to do the things the firefighters do: 0. Number of firefighters who asked for recognition for their efforts: also 0.
I don’t mean to jargogle
But here are 10 obscure words a reader has challenged me to bring back. They’re quite good. I kenched like a jollux. The words are: jargogle: to confuse, jumble; corrade: to scrape together from various sources; kench: to laugh loudly; ludibrious: apt to be subject to jest or mockery (sound familiar?); jollux: a fat person; malagrugrous: dismal; brabble: to quarrel over trifles; freck: to move swiftly or nimbly (say this five times fast out loud in a public place and report back to me); deliciate: to enjoy oneself or to revel.
One in the oven
A baby was born late Thursday night in the parking lot at Heathco’s in Auburn. It was a beautiful thing. I assume. Because while I did go to the scene, I went very warily and then parked two blocks away. That’s close enough, mister. I’ve been to murders, maimings and all varieties of horror over the years, but childbirth? Call me squeamish. On second thought, don’t call me at all.