January Date: Ice Skating (And Nary A Trip To The E.R!)

If I had to choose something I loved more than my husband, I’d have to say Re-enacting Scenes From My Favorite Movies. (If I HAD to.)

Even the Russian judges liked us.

This past Saturday, I didn’t even to pick between them. Because P.J.’s Christmas present to me was twelve months of Chicago dates. You know, the place where we live and of which we continuously extol the virtues but rarely have time to a) date in b) Chicago? He gave me twelve note cards, each one with a different activity carefully thought out and/or pasted on the back.

January’s date was ice skating at Millennium Park. There was the promise of cocoa, as well. (Because everyone knows that cocoa is P.J.’s- er, Keely’s– favorite beverage.)

Our darling friend and neighbor Angie watched the girls for a few hours while Peej and I day-dated, feeling like wonderfully negligent parents. (“Oh, you left your kids on a Saturday? Was there an emergency?” “No, we needed to ice skate. We needed to.”)

Apparently, a lot of other folks needed to as well. We arrived to see hordes of teetering folks impatiently watch the Zamboni makes its rounds. We rented skates (’cause, you know, my professional ones are in the shop) and promptly exchanged mine for a smaller size. And thenpromptly regretted it, as the smaller ones hurt in an entirely different manner than the roomy ones had. But shame kept me firmly lacing up those skates. (Peej’s experience was exactly the opposite. Ol’ Wobble Ankles and his sidekick Pinchy Toes McWhinesalot!)

Then…we skated. A lot. Kinda…not so fast. We gripped each others’ hands (for love!) and shot eye darts at zooming five year-olds (who, like, are really gonna hurt someone, it’s not a flipping race). We got better. P.J. swapped me over to his other hand and skated faster. I told him I really hoped someone had seen that move. Pretty sure it was what had gotten Kate and Doug the gold in The Cutting Edge. P.J. skated backwards to take a pic of me (and only kinda fell once). I took a picture of him- while I was gripping the handrail, thankyouverymuch.

By the end, we were skating pretty fast- almost like regular, non-geriatric scarecrows- and I informed P.J. that we had just made Nationals. I asked him to lift me. He said no. (Some people fear romance.)

After we returned our skates- and waited for the return of feeling in our feet- we hobbled over to Caribou for cocoa and accepted an invitation to write our favorite movies quotes on their chalkboard.

On our way home, we happened to meander into the Chicago Cultural Center (the most gorgeous building in the history of ever) and caught part of a guided tour for Preston Bradley Hall and the Tiffany stained-glass zodiac dome…and I was in Lovely Things, Nerdy Heaven.

Kinda like my relationship with my all-too tolerant, all-too awesome husband.

Who won’t even yell “Toe Pick!” at a showing-off, spinning fifteen year-old girl.

We all have our limits, I guess.

Peej took this pic as he fell onto the ice. This is my Supportive Face.