"Hockey on the Pond" by Silvia Armeni
As I sit here at 11 a.m. in my pajamas in front of the computer with my mug of coffee and no plans to make (and therefore break) any resolutions, New Year's day has started off marvelously well, with a breakfast of pancakes and bacon (not cooked by me) and a CBC radio interview with (Baroness) P.D. James plugging her latest and talking about murder mysteries as "the literature of comfort"; as she said this morning, at the end there's always a solution, provided by humans by dint of human intelligence and human perseverance, though there's not always justice or fairness. Which is a very good explanation for why I enjoy the genre so much.
In a couple of hours, our friends will arrive (two kids, a daughter Laura's age and a son Daniel's age) for a game of hockey on the pond. We had a skiff of snow overnight, and though the weather warmed up to around 32F overnight, we're hoping the ice is still solid for skating. The two dads have planned to make a bonfire so we can roast marshmallows and hotdogs (with some kubasa -- Ukrainian sausage -- for the adults), so everyone is pretty excited.
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