We have now experienced a hometown hockey game. How we've lived here so long without, I'm not sure, but Friday night found us handing over our twelve dollars and letting the kids run along the bleachers to the perfect spot - there where the heaters didn't work and our bottoms were sure to freeze. It felt very Canadian - there among our locals, their "Go Whites!" and their mittens. Our breath danced in front of our faces. When our team scored Zander punched the air. We cupped hot chocolate while steam billowed. The kids ate 25¢ licorice sticks..."I remember when you could get a Twizzler for 10¢," their daddy told them while we waited in line at the concession stand run by a woman and a calculator. They were bored by the third period but they'd go again - even if we embarrassed them by singing along with Thunderstruck and stomping our feet.