The Rangers played approximately 52 minutes of excellent hockey last night, which was good enough to win, though to keep winning they're going to have to up it to a full 60 minutes, every game. Sigh. They're still doing that thing where they sit back on a lead in the third period, though, another long-time team behavior/strategy that makes me crazy, and they still can't score on the power play, but they executed some beautiful plays last night, especially on the two goals they scored. I'm cautiously optimistic, though I'd really like Kevin Klein back in the lineup. And for Nash to start scoring.
Of course, this means I'm now two weeks behind on Jane the Virgin. *hands* Hopefully my DVR can keep up.
***
So I've already read Matt & Clint and Matt/Natasha, now where is the Matt & Peter fic?
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Today's poem:
The Lottery Prayer
Another winter morning,
another day I am not a millionaire.
The Lord of Chance is my shepherd.
He makes me want. He tells me I must play
to win. He leadeth me down a path
toward early retirement.
I follow religiously.
Yea, though I drive through
the valley in a shadow of debt
to buy my tickets, I am still left wanting.
My friends and family comfort me.
They prepare a meal for me each week
to supplement the hole the lottery leaves
in my grocery budget.
I play their birthdays, ages,
wedding and divorce dates.
I play shoe, dress, waist, and bra sizes.
I play the days in a month,
the months in a year,
the year my car was built.
I play the numbers printed inside
fortune cookies, if the fortune is good.
Oh, Lord of Chance, drop
some Ping-Pong balls my way.
Help me become the generous man
I am meant to be. Help me build
the non-profit foundation dedicated
to supporting abused, homeless, hungry,
handicapped, mentally, emotionally
and imaginatively challenged literary artists-
that is my destiny. Help me build a library
branch (to later be named in my honor).
What do I need to do, Lord? I've already
given up smoking and drinking, sacrificed
my beloved Mustang. I can't give up
my wife; she buys half the tickets.
I can't give up my first born;
he's expecting a piece of the prize.
Anything else is fair game.
~M. Scott Douglass
***
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http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/743278.html.
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