I’m not quite sure what was missing last Thursday night — whatever it was, I certainly didn’t Bring It to the skating rink. My energy was in the toilet. Happily (happily?) I had a manuscript in my bag, so I edited a few pages…and then a few more pages…and then a few more pages…every time I took a break. I finally threw in the towel, putting my shoes back on only for the YMCA and Gloria Gaynor’s "I Will Survive." (The DJ was willing to give Mike’s CD mixes a try. Thank goodness. I’m actually becoming FAMILIAR with Miley Cyrus songs.)
We had a good crew: Me & Tracy & Kitti & Lillie & Missy & Jenny were all in attendance. We haven’t fully decided on our Roller Derby names yet, but worry not. We all love having many names, and we’ll be referring to each other as such soon enough.
I tried out the speed skates…yeah, that didn’t last long. Turns out I actually need the height of the boot-type skate, or the arches of my foot scream at me (thanks, Dad, for those particular genetics). The silver lining there was that I knew exactly what kind of skates I needed! At the end of the night I ordered them: size nine, white, with purple wheels. I can’t WAIT to get them! (Though it’s going to be the 20th, since I’ll be out of town this Thursday…pooh!)
Tracy got some awesome black skates with shiny red wheels — they were made for wider feet, so it was love at first fitting. She hadn’t paid for them yet, but was desperate to take them for a trial run. I asked, since she didn’t want to…and I turned around JUST in time to see her feet fly out from under her and go CRASHING down to the floor. It hurt MY bones to see. Poor Tracy…she had to go to the chiropractor over the weekend, and she’s still feeling it.
But she still bought the skates.
That’s my girl.