Right, hockey people, it’s time for an update, because I have officially stopped pretending this trip is theoretical. It is 71 days away. There is a jersey. This is happening.

For anyone new here: I write hockey romance, which means every so often the research has to get a little more hands-on than a stats page and a highlight reel, and this December I am doing exactly that. Call it a research trip. Call it an excuse. I’m calling it both and I’m not sorry.

Here’s the run of it. We fly into Vancouver on November 30th. From there we’re driving up to Edmonton, across to Calgary, and back down to Vancouver, and along the way we’re catching three games — the Capitals against the Oilers in Edmonton, then the Capitals against the Flames in Calgary, then the Capitals against the Canucks back in Vancouver, in that order. Rink to rink, city to city, three very different arenas and hopefully three very good games. We fly home on December 8th.

Logistically, I feel disgustingly prepared. The jersey’s sourced. I’ve actually sorted clothing for the temperature swing between three different Canadian cities in December, which for anyone who knows how I pack is basically a miracle worth documenting. Layers upon layers upon layers, ready to go.

And because apparently I need a wishlist for absolutely everything, here’s the non-hockey one: the Rockies scenery is a given, since we’re driving straight through the middle of it, so that one barely counts. What I actually want is a moose, and I wouldn’t say no to a wolverine or a beaver if one wanted to make an appearance. What I do not want is a bear — that feels like a lot, intensity-wise, and I’m choosing to believe they’re all doing their best Yogi impression and sleeping the whole thing off somewhere I can’t see them. Mostly, though, I’m hoping for a squirrel or two. My spirit animal is a squirrel, which — if you know me, you already know exactly why that tracks.

On the writing side: there are eight books finished and waiting in the wings, but I’m not trying to push all of them out the door at once just to hit a deadline I set for myself. Three feels like the right number to have properly alive in the universe by the time we leave — real, out, findable — and the rest can follow at their own pace rather than mine panicking them into existence. I’m even toying with packing a couple of print copies to hand out at the arenas, if that’s a thing I’m allowed to do. Fingers crossed on that one.

Once we’re actually there, I’m hoping to update here every single day — rink notes, road notes, whatever nonsense happens in the car between Edmonton and Calgary. No promises on how coherent those updates will be after three games in a week, but I’ll do my best.

And look, if I come home with a game puck and an unreasonable amount of maple candy, I will consider this trip an unqualified success on every possible front.

I can also already see an abundance of waffles, maple syrup, poutine, and Nanaimo bars in my future. Not all on the same plate, obviously. I have some standards. Are there other Canadian Delicacies I should seek out? Beaver tails and Butter Tarts maybe?

70 days. Rink to rink. Let’s go.