Forgive me, Iggy...

...for I know you are only human. You need to rest, too. You can only do so much.

My brother snapped at me in your defense last night.

"Yay! Another goal! Where's Iggy?"

"Shut up, Le! He's not going to score every single goal we have."

*thoughtful pause* "I knoooooow that. But where is he?"

"He's on the bench."

*further contemplation* "Why?! What's wrong?"

*exasperated sigh* "NOTHING!"

I love you, Mr. Iginla. I know you're married and that there are other girls out there who want your uber-hot self for their own but you are mine. Just thought I'd let that be known. :)

And if you could hook up one of my friends with Kiprusoff I'm sure they'd have some admiration for you, too. Daisy or Posie, he can have his pick. But I suppose it could get ugly should the other one get jealous.

I'm not feeling that patchy facial hair you and the boys have got going on right now, but I understand tradition. Just thought you ought to know that you are a zillion times sexier clean shaven. But I love you anyway. And I love how you're our super captain. Men with authoritah are hottttttt. And the way you kicked Hatcher's ass on Saturday? Mega-hot. Unfortunately I didn't get to see it when it actually happened 'cuz I was working. But it was hot. It. was. hot.

Don't let Detroit get you down. Smash them against the boards as you see fit. I know you can do it.

Love,
Leah.

P.S. If you could somehow direct me to where I could find your photos from GQ(?) where you were skating sexy-half-naked I would be delighted.