I'm going to step back for a moment and give you an uncharacteristic taste of what it's like to be me.

Repeat after me: *squealy squealy boingy boingy bounce bounce boing!*

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we're off for Victoria in thirteen days. So I was terrible and talked with Brad for a little while last night. Heard about the people we're meeting, and we joked a little about how on the night we arrive, Heather and I are going to have to drop our respective significant others (Andy and Jeff) off at the hotel so that we can go down some beer at the pub in [relative] peace and shake our tailfeathers a wee to 'get into the spirit of vacation.'If I'm half as excited as I am right now about it all—and I get thoroughly and utterly squealyflustered when it comes to going places—I'm going to need approximately .0005 seconds of tailfeather-shaking to get into the spirit of Canadatrek.

I told Brad last night that if the unthinkable ever happens and Jeff and I do actually spawn, as soon as the kidlet can walk and grip a hockey stick, I'm sending said kidlet up to Uncle Brad (gales of laughter at THAT thought right there) in the summers for some hockey training.

Especially if it's a girl.

Oh, and Brad had great fun listening to me comment on last night's game 7 between the Penguins and Sabres. I think he started chuckling right around the time I told Hasek to get up and quit trying to stick his feet through the back of the net…

Oh, the damage Brad has wrought…