Saturyne’s in town until Sunday! I called her incessantly yesterday until she showed up at the sports bar by Ice Chalet in San Mateo last night to watch the first Sharks playoff game with me. I forgot I was in a restaurant and was screaming instructions and profanities from a table near the back of the room, away from the huge projection TV. When they won again in OT, I threw my hands in the air and hooted and clapped with no regard for anyone sitting near me, just like the yinzers back east do in public places.
When we left the bar, the zamboni was making slow, sweeping ovals around the rink outside. “I wanna skate,” Saturyne said. “Me too,” I said. “Let’s beat up the zamboni driver.” We paused for a moment to evaluate the potential rewards of that idea, but since we didn’t have our skates, we agreed silently to leave the rink.
I went skating today on my lunch hour to counteract any violent tendencies I might have from not having skated since last Saturday. It must be spring break for the kids or something (how quickly I do forget these things), because the rink was overrun with figure skaters, small and large. The problem with being around a lot of figure skaters is that I get the desire to….well…figure skate. (Bet you thought I was going to say check people, but that is woefully not the case.) I’d do it if I didn’t fear skating in something with a toe pick that would stick and send me flying. They just skate so much better than me, and they do cool tricks. I did tell someone once that I refused to involve myself in any sport where I had to wear a skirt. I wonder if I have to adhere to that promise now that he doesn’t talk to me anymore. Maybe I should just take up watercolors instead to try and curb the princess predilection.
