Granny Goes Wheeling, Part Duh!--Beware the Squeezeburger!
February 3, 2013
I had enjoyed an especially busy week that had included nice long walks in San Francisco and Sacramento. I was beginning to shake off my winter/holiday sloth and was feeling good about resuming a more active routine. Now I must admit that part of the visit Jim and I made to the Norman Rockwell Exhibit at the Crocker Museum was planned around the redemption of a Groupon coupon for discounted Squeezeburgers. Granny is always seeking redemption in whatever form it presents itself! At least on this foray into the land of cheese skirts, fries, and juicy burger, I would have the opportunity to walk off a few calories.
Not wanting to backslide into lethargy, and with a few more extra calories that needed burning, the very next day after enjoying the massive burger, I sort of invited myself along to a birthday skating party for one of my granddaughter Jaiden's friends. Now this wasn't as pushy as it may seem, though I do enjoy a whirl around the rink now and then. (Read, very occasionally, thus tempting fate and injury as I ease my totally unconditioned granny self out onto a rink filled with speeding, twirling, crashing kiddies who are totally unaware of elderly rinksters). Besides, I had taught all the attending roller revelers as my second and third grade students. I enjoyed their company, and they all alt least tolerated mine.
After a very plain and underwhelming roller rink cheeseburger and a piece of pretty darn good birthday cake, it was time to don the skates and start rolling! I had graciously told all the ten year-old Placerville partiers that they would be on their own out on the rink--I would not be coming to anyone's aid, no matter how grievously they might be hurt. That's how I wounded myself the last time out, trying to ease Jaiden and Briar back to their feet after their own falls. It was harsh, I know, but dammit! I'm sixty-four now--I have to watchout for myself. I can no longer rely on my decades-old fitness regimen of never breaking a sweat, coupled with eating enough ice cream to amply pad my patootie and thighs in order to ward off the dreaded and possible lethal broken hip.
Looking forward to wheeling around the rink, I anticipated the lovely skate-breeze I would create, evidenced by the ruffling of my gauzy granny sleeves as they would flap against the ruffed granny upper arms that Briar lovingly calls my "flappies." I cautiously baby-stepped across the carpeted sitting area and made my way toward the entrance to the rink. I slowly lifted one foot, gingerly set it down on the polished wooden floor, and instantly said foot betrayed me, causing both feet to fly up and out of me as though I had bounced on a trampoline in preparation for a flying seat-drop. Apparently my proclivity for spectacular falls continued. ( I don't fall often, but when I do, I prefer Dos Equis to ease the resulting pain!) Assuming the aerial position of a well-starched magic carpet, I thudded mightily to the floor right at the entrance to rink. I had completed perhaps one yard of forward movement from the bench. Granny lands yet another full-throttle butt plant! My head crashed into the wood a nano-second later. It is amazing how quickly one can process a full thought in the flash it takes to thunder to the ground when on roller skates. "Oh, no! Not again!"
I lay there blinking, stunned, and vowed to crawl off the rink, unlace my skates, turn them in, and, if I could see straight, read my Kindle for the rest of the afternoon. But before I could summon either the strength or dignity to do so, I managed to focus my eyes on a completely stricken-looking lady peering down on the completely flattened me. "Well, at least you got that fall behind you right out of the chute!" she complimented me. My courage renewed, I rolled over onto my stomach, dug my fingers into the carpeted wall, painfully inched my way back up to a standing position, and hobbled shakily around the rink. Terrified, I did manage to steady up pretty quick, and enjoyed a lovely day of feet-wheeling. Managed to stay upright, too, to the amazement of my granddaughter, the birthday girl, and my students.
Today I am fairly hobbled, and both Jaiden and Briar, who spent the night with me, are totally done hearing Granny's repeated an pitiful moaning of , "Oh, my butt!" Well, that's just what they get when Granny joins them for a skating party!
This post originally appeared in a slightly different form in my blog "Plumpfeet Wonders."
Not wanting to backslide into lethargy, and with a few more extra calories that needed burning, the very next day after enjoying the massive burger, I sort of invited myself along to a birthday skating party for one of my granddaughter Jaiden's friends. Now this wasn't as pushy as it may seem, though I do enjoy a whirl around the rink now and then. (Read, very occasionally, thus tempting fate and injury as I ease my totally unconditioned granny self out onto a rink filled with speeding, twirling, crashing kiddies who are totally unaware of elderly rinksters). Besides, I had taught all the attending roller revelers as my second and third grade students. I enjoyed their company, and they all alt least tolerated mine.
After a very plain and underwhelming roller rink cheeseburger and a piece of pretty darn good birthday cake, it was time to don the skates and start rolling! I had graciously told all the ten year-old Placerville partiers that they would be on their own out on the rink--I would not be coming to anyone's aid, no matter how grievously they might be hurt. That's how I wounded myself the last time out, trying to ease Jaiden and Briar back to their feet after their own falls. It was harsh, I know, but dammit! I'm sixty-four now--I have to watchout for myself. I can no longer rely on my decades-old fitness regimen of never breaking a sweat, coupled with eating enough ice cream to amply pad my patootie and thighs in order to ward off the dreaded and possible lethal broken hip.
Looking forward to wheeling around the rink, I anticipated the lovely skate-breeze I would create, evidenced by the ruffling of my gauzy granny sleeves as they would flap against the ruffed granny upper arms that Briar lovingly calls my "flappies." I cautiously baby-stepped across the carpeted sitting area and made my way toward the entrance to the rink. I slowly lifted one foot, gingerly set it down on the polished wooden floor, and instantly said foot betrayed me, causing both feet to fly up and out of me as though I had bounced on a trampoline in preparation for a flying seat-drop. Apparently my proclivity for spectacular falls continued. ( I don't fall often, but when I do, I prefer Dos Equis to ease the resulting pain!) Assuming the aerial position of a well-starched magic carpet, I thudded mightily to the floor right at the entrance to rink. I had completed perhaps one yard of forward movement from the bench. Granny lands yet another full-throttle butt plant! My head crashed into the wood a nano-second later. It is amazing how quickly one can process a full thought in the flash it takes to thunder to the ground when on roller skates. "Oh, no! Not again!"
I lay there blinking, stunned, and vowed to crawl off the rink, unlace my skates, turn them in, and, if I could see straight, read my Kindle for the rest of the afternoon. But before I could summon either the strength or dignity to do so, I managed to focus my eyes on a completely stricken-looking lady peering down on the completely flattened me. "Well, at least you got that fall behind you right out of the chute!" she complimented me. My courage renewed, I rolled over onto my stomach, dug my fingers into the carpeted wall, painfully inched my way back up to a standing position, and hobbled shakily around the rink. Terrified, I did manage to steady up pretty quick, and enjoyed a lovely day of feet-wheeling. Managed to stay upright, too, to the amazement of my granddaughter, the birthday girl, and my students.
Today I am fairly hobbled, and both Jaiden and Briar, who spent the night with me, are totally done hearing Granny's repeated an pitiful moaning of , "Oh, my butt!" Well, that's just what they get when Granny joins them for a skating party!
This post originally appeared in a slightly different form in my blog "Plumpfeet Wonders."
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