It's raining. It must be Monday. 

After three weeks trying to rest my ribs, I went back to playing hockey tonight. I felt like Howie Morenz — not the Howie Morenz in his prime but the one six feet underground. Dead. I may have mistimed my comeback. Also, let the record show that it has rained every Monday since I started.

On the way home I heard a news item about scientists trying to map the genome of a wooly mammoth from hair samples over 60,000 years old. I felt a little like those scientists tonight as I ventured out on an ice sheet desparately trying to ressurect a creature from the dead.