I love taking Jess to her figure skating lessons. Usually Mark gets to since I’m not out of work early enough but occasionally I can swing it.
I snap a few pics of her latest tricks.
The skating arena is probably a cool 50 degrees. A nice relief from the heat wave Michigan has been experiencing. You would think the one place I would be safe from a hot flash is an ice arena.
Did I forget to mention that I’m fifty?
Part of me would like to forget that. The other part doesn’t want to forget because it seems as if I forget everything lately. I guess that’s part of being fifty. That and hot flashes.
One of them creeps up on me while shooting these pics. The heat starts in my chest and I start sweating. I take off my jacket. The flush continues up through my neck into my face. I brush the sweat off my forehead and through my hair to keep any additional heat from my face.
Remember how great the bathroom tile felt after a night of too much carousing? Think back to your twenties. I imagine crawling out onto the ice and lying spread eagle with my face planted into the surface.
I wonder what all these people would think?
I settle for sliding my foot toward the ice. Maybe I can slip my foot out of my sandal and just rest my toes on the edge of the ice. Maybe no one will see.
And then, miraculosly, before I embarrass myself, the flash ends. The sweat on my skin disapates. I’m cold. I put on my jacket and bring my feet in closer to my body for warmth.
I wish had a parka and snow boots.