Ice skating appears to be something that I do every thirteen years. The first big event was for my thirteenth birthday, and the second looks like it’s going to be tonight. Even though I’ll probably need the double-blade skates in the picture above, I’m excited about it. I’ve even set a goal (because what worthwhile venture can be made without a goal?!).
The goal is to skate backwards with some semblance of confidence. It’s probably a stupid goal, since there’s a good chance that I retained exactly none of the skill that I picked up the last time around. But I think being twenty-six instead of thirteen will work in my favor.
Middle school isn’t known as a time of great confidence for anyone, so if I could merrily skate my way around an ice rink then, surely thirteen additional years of life experience and the mere fact that I’m not in middle school anymore will get me halfway to skating confidently backwards.
Then there are all of those hours that I spent as a child pretending that I was Bonnie Blair (on rollerblades, because I was in Texas). And the hours that I spent perfecting a non-ice version of a single lutz. Some of that time has to translate into awesomeness all of these years later. If not, at least I’ll have a good time pretending that I’m graceful with all of the other Southerners who only see ice when the downtown rink miraculously appears for a few months each year.
And last but not least, I want to add a note about The South. My mom was ashamed that I would even consider making a sweet potato casserole with marshmallows on top. What decent Southern girl would let that thought cross her mind?! I blame blogs with beautiful pictures, mostly, but I also blame my grandmother. If asked, she probably wouldn’t have admitted to living anywhere other than Clinton, North Carolina for her entire life. (There were in fact a few years spent in exotic locations like Greensboro, North Carolina.) She was Southern in just about every way imaginable and proud of it. And her sweet potato casserole had mini marshmallows on top of it. That’s all I have to say about that.
Well, almost. I’ll admit that the topping with brown sugar and pecans is better. The marshmallows were just so enticing with their awesome symmetry and their slightly browned meltyness. That’s really all I have to say about that.