Skating

I have lived in Nashville for fifteen years. Every summer it's the same thing... one day of record setting temperatures after another. It is miserable.

Yesterday was a pleasant change. According to one of our local meteorologists, it was the coolest July 21 on record since 1877. As a woman who yearns for fall-like temperatures year round, I couldn't be happier.

To celebrate this momentous occasion, and because I had to pick up our tickets to the Mute Math concert, I decided to take the boy ice skating in Nashville.

When I was a child, my sister and I would spend two weeks at our Grandparent's house in Colorado Springs. One of the highlights of our visit would be a trip to the Broadmoor Skating Club. We would watch Olympic skaters practice and then take our turn on the ice. Memories.

I hadn't been ice skating in years, so I started off a little wobbly. Thankfully, after about ten minutes the muscle memory came back and I was gliding around the ice.

This was the boy's first time ice skating. At first, he drug himself around the rink, arms slung over the wall, and his skates barely touching the ice. He then tried to stomp around, hoping that it would somehow provide better traction. It was quite comical.

I am proud to say that I only wiped out once. The boy was having trouble standing up after a tumble and tried to pull himself up by forcefully yanking on the back of my shirt. The end result was a tangle of arms and legs on the ice.

The poor child fell too many times to count and was completely soaked as a result. He had a great attitude in spite of it all and was making multiple laps around the rink without falling by the time we left.

He has already begged me to take him skating again next week. It may become one of my favorite summertime activities.