First Grader Doesn’t Miss a Beat

Christmas cookies may be a distant memory now, but the effects—like the office eavesdropper—continue to linger. This, coupled with the arrival of a new swimsuit, sent me searching for yet another too-fun-to-be-exercise workout. The foremost authority on such workouts is a 6-year old child. Fortunately, I know one.

For the past month, Abby has been learning to swizzle, glide, and remain upright on ice. Under the guise of giving her additional practice, I suggested we return to the rink for the public session after her morning lesson. Her acceptance was no less enthusiastic than if I had offered her Taylor Swift tickets and a box of Thin Mints.

Little did she know I had a motive of my own. Little did she care.

Hoping to learn a trick or two for the afternoon session, I decided to pay more attention than normal (meaning no Kindle time) to the surrounding lessons. When I spied four young girls bedazzled in ponytails and teeny skate dresses, I thought I had found in them suitable trick teachers.

Not so. Skating figure eights with ease whist undoubtedly contemplating triple lutzes, they were way out of my league.

I’ll admit I’m prone to hyperbole. For example, when I wrote that a boy zipped past me clutching his woobie on the ski slope last winter, I had embellished a bit. Though a child really did zip past me, it wasn’t with woobie in hand. But I am not exaggerating about their skating skills. Nor am I exaggerating about what happened next.

Following the lesson, the littlest of the three figure skaters toddled up to her mother, accepted a proffered binky, and popped it in her mouth. A kid with a binky could skate figure eights around me. The realization, though humbling, was far from deterring.

We returned that afternoon for Abby’s stated (and my covert) mission— Abby, to practice swizzles and staying upright; and I, to mitigate the effects of Molasses Men cutouts. Joining us somewhat reluctantly was Todd, who generally prefers more life-threatening activities such as downhill skiing and mountain biking to ice skating.

If for no other reason than seeing Abby smile at her own accomplishments, the afternoon was journal-worthy memorable. But her smile wasn’t the only thing worth writing home about. Our afternoon also included the treats of observing a birthday girl and company wearing inverted cone hats on the ice, and skating hand-in-hand with Abby to her favorite (and mine), Ours.

Not all the moments were so pleasant, however. While waiting in line for our rental skates, I had to reveal my Mamma Bear claws to a boy who spat at Abby for no apparent reason. And later, Todd experienced a fall on ice that resulted in bruised ribs and an exemption from all future skating endeavors.

He’s feeling better now, mostly.

As for Abby and me, I see boxes of Thin Mints on the horizon. Therefore, I see more skating sessions in our future. I’m willing to bet Abby won’t object to either.

**********

These are the songs we could recall from the skate session. Any playlist that includes Lisa Loeb and Hootie is list-worthy in my book. This collection tends to be more old school than the roller rink playlist, which means some were from my college days and I didn’t have to perform extensive lyric searches to identify them. And I firmly believe Adele can sing no wrong.

Ice Rink Playlist

“Californication”- Red Hot Chili Peppers
“Stay”- Lisa Loeb
“Let Her Cry”- Hootie and the Blowfish
“Back to December”- Taylor Swift
“Ours”- Taylor Swift
“Fireflies”- Owl City
“Where I Come From”- Montgomery Gentry
“Jack and Diane”- John Mellencamp
“Jessie’s Girl”- Rick Springfield
“Easy”- Rascal Flatts
“Set Fire to the Rain”- Adele
“Dirty Little Secret”- The All-American Rejects
“I Gotta Feeling”- The Black Eyed Peas
“Just Can’t Get Enough”- The Black Eyed Peas
“Ironic”- Alanis Morissette
“The Remedy”- Jason Mraz
“Sunny Came Home”- Shawn Colvin
“My Heart Can’t Tell You No”- Sara Evans
“Poker Face”- Lady Gaga
“Mr. Know It All”- Kelly Clarkson

The (Almost) Perfect Black Boots

24 Tuesday Jan 2012

Posted by Allison in fashion, Humor, Life

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Clark Artisan boots, girl interrupted moments, what not to wear

They seemed like a good idea at the time—the tall black boots in the green box with the pink clearance sticker. So perfect were they in their cardboard nest of tissue paper and silica gel packets, I felt no need to bother with inconsequential matters such as reading reviews online or even trying them on before purchase.

When the day finally arrived—60 days and a 30-degree temperature drop later—for me to wear them, they seemed like everything I had imagined they would be. They were stable enough to climb five stories at work without wobbling. They looked good with A-line and pencil skirts alike. Best of all, their zipper-free design kept them from snagging my tights as had all their snaggletoothed predecessors.

I floated on snag-free, Clark Artisan comfort all day long. And then the time arrived for me to remove them. That’s when I discovered the flip (and darker) side of zipper-free boots. They may not devour tights, but no matter how stretchy the material, they are nearly impossible to take off without the assistance of another person or a hydraulic rescue tool.

The pink clearance sticker suddenly made sense.

For the most part, I’m able to wear the boots these days without incident. I try to plan their wear for when I know somebody will be available (and willing) to remove them. That person is usually my daughter. It’s humbling to need a 6-year old’s assistance undressing, but I’ve made peace with it as restitution for all the diapers I changed.

But I don’t always plan so well. Sometimes I forget and wear them to work on days when I need to work out over lunch. That’s when I must resort to my best yoga-contortion moves in the most discrete corner of the gym’s locker room I can find, which isn’t very discreet at all. That’s also when I pull a back muscle.

Replacing them would be like throwing the baby out with the bath water. Apart from being semi-permanently affixed, they are the perfect boot. Some days I think I’ll never replace them. And then I look at this picture…

And I know I will.

Tree Face!

18 Wednesday Jan 2012

Posted by Allison in Hiking, Life, Nature, Photos

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Camp Judy Layne, mother nature, say cheese

Not far from my house stands a tree with a face on it. Every time we drive past it, Abby squeals, “Tree face!” from the backseat. Every single time. By my count, that’s 949 times to date, give or take a squeal.

Pictured below is batgirl with “Tree face!” two Halloweens ago. (An exclamation point seems appropriate here because that’s how I say it now too.) She’s smiling because:

a) I didn’t make her wear a princess costume.

b) She doesn’t realize I’m going to take a share of her Halloween bounty afterwards.

and

c) It’s impossible not to smile when you see that tree face.

But what I like even better than my neighborhood tree face is a naturally occurring tree face…or three. I’ve started a photo collection of naturally occuring tree faces observed while hiking. One is more obvious than the other two. You might have to use the childhood eyes that let you turn cumulus clouds into snowmen and fire-breathing dragons to see faces in the other two.

Here is the obvious one. Eyes, nose, mouth. Definite face.

This one looks like an alligator face to me…sort of. I definitely see an eye and a mouth ready to chomp.

I encountered the tree pictured below while hiking at Camp Judy Layne in eastern Kentucky with my friend, Raccoon, a couple of summers ago. You might need your cumulus cloud vision for this one. I spy one eye, a bulbous nose, a set of lips, and a prominent chin. A deciduous Karl Malden if ever I saw one.

This morning will bring the 950th “Tree face!” squeal for Abby. And this weekend, if I’m lucky, will bring another naturally-occurring tree face discovery.

	Scott on If Handlebars Could Talk
	Bad Pants on If Handlebars Could Talk
	Leah on Rock Face!
	Scott on Rock Face!
	Bad Pants on Rock Face!

No Shoe Left Behind

~ The heel you save may be your own

Monthly Archives: January 2012

First Grader Doesn’t Miss a Beat

Swizzles, Binkies, and Scars on Ice

The (Almost) Perfect Black Boots

Tree Face!

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