There was something in the air yesterday, up here in Canada. Something magical. Something golden.

Of course, I’m talking about Canada’s victory against the United States for the mens Gold medal in Hockey.  As a sports nut, a hockey fan and a patriotic Canadian, it was my duty to gather my children around the telly, drink beer and cuss like a sailor every time the Americans scored a goal.

The moment was historic. The game was electrifying. The twitter smack talk thrilling.

Thousands of American and Canadian arm chair hockey players set aside their virtual and real life friendships to scrap over National pride.

Note to self: Don’t let your children near your laptop when taking victory pictures.

My veins were filled with maple syrup and my heart wrapped with bacon as my family and two nations sat on the edge of their seats while we watched over grown boys battle to see their childhood dream come true: to win an Olympic Gold medal.

Of course, no good hockey game would be complete without a little wager, and like President Obama and Prime Minister Harper, I couldn’t resist placing my national pride on the line and making a bet with my American friend, Jason.

There is nothing like knowing your nose will be rubbed in the manure of loss and you will be forced to taste the sweet nectar of public humiliation if your team loses to make you toss back more beers than prudent and scream cheer a little louder at the tiny men with sticks living inside your television box.

Sidney Crosby was totally thinking of me when he scored the winning goal in over-time, I know it.

Jason doesn’t like Crosby. Heh.

Jason’s penance? Well, some things you just have to see for yourself. This is one of them:

Canadian gold has never tasted sweeter.

What Jason didn’t know when he innocently tossed down the gauntlet and waved the red flag in front of this bull’s nose, is I’ve made hockey bets on twitter before. And I’ve won every.single.time.

Erin really enjoyed losing dressing in a Viking costume. Can’t you just see the joy shining through?

My American friends keep forgetting I’m mapletastic CANADIAN and I teethed on a hockey puck. I know hockey.

I was still riding the waves of national pride when I opened up my laptop to learn that my day had just gotten even better.

It was announced on twitter that I won a Bloggie for Best Canadian blog. A hockey gold and a Bloggie? I knew I should have bought a lotto ticket when I went to the store earlier in the day.

It dawned on me as I sat there watching my twitter stream fill with congratulation tweets, that in my excitement over the hockey game I forgot something important to me.

Yesterday, the day hockey history was made, bets were won and a Bloggie awarded, was my blogging anniversary. Four years ago to the day, I sat behind my shiny new computer and mustered up the courage to write my very first blog post.

I had a bad hair cut, my hair was dyed brown and I could barely breathe from the weight of my son’s death crushing my soul, and I had no idea what was in store for me when I pressed publish for the first time. I had no understanding of the power of this community I was about to invite myself into; no idea my life was about to change and that one day I’d have American men singing in their boxers on the internet for me real and virtual friends across the world.

It has been a long road and one I’m glad I had the foresight to ask you all to travel alongside me.

My blog birthday couldn’t have gotten any better.

And then I saw this:

The always enjoyable giant inflatable beaver!

It was like Canada was reaching out to pat me on the head and wish me a happy blog birthday while the Universe showered me with fairy dust.

Feb. 28, 2010. The day I farted rainbows and the world declared itself to be Tanis-tastic.

***Thank you to everyone who has supported and held me up these past four years. If I could, I’d give you each a giant inflatable beaver for you all to enjoy. Because you know, sometimes words just aren’t enough***