Ice Ice Baby

Um . . . that’s not what I meant . . .

. . . and, though that does look scrumpdillyicious, it’s still not the right one . . .

There! That’s the one. My little ice princess. In the midst of some of the worst icy weather in NE Indiana history, she’s the only one able to convince me to drag my carcass here . . .

Headwaters Park Ice Rink. Yes, that’s freezing rain on the ground . . .

. . . but she doesn’t care. Baby, It’s Cold Outside? It’s just a song to her. Means nothing. Besides, we had this . . .

Sixty-four ounces of hot chocolaty goodness. A communal fount of warmth and corn syrup. The energy drink of choice for the entire crew . . .

. . . along with a basket of nacho chips with cheese. I think She Who Must Be Obeyed is encouraging my youngest boy to chew with his mouth closed. And these two?

Had a ball. My son’s squeeze had never been ice skating before today. Roller skating aplenty. But never on blades. She’s a natural . . .

. . . as am I at taking blurry pictures. Pat would be proud. As I was of Aryn . . .

. . . who went along and did a few laps, even though she prefers roller skating more. And these two?

Is that a hug? Completely unscripted? Methinks I shed a tear. Such is the joy of ice. It’s wet and cold and oh-so-fun for the entire family . . .

Finally, while I have your undivided attention, am a tad bit picture-happy, and The Good Nurse is going to spank me if I don’t start playing along after so many promises to do so, here are a couple of my favorite t-shirts . . .

. . . though, after tonight, I really want one with this on it . . .

Now that’s my idea of how to have fun on ice . . .

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19 thoughts on “Ice Ice Baby

  1. Oh, what great fun for all you guys. I used to skate all the time during winter while my son was little. He hated skating, and Rumpole, well, the poor chap was such a lousy skater that every time i watched him skate, I’d dissolve into a giggling pile. i usually feared that my men-folk would return from our little skating excursions with brain damage, they fell down so much, such spectacular wipe-outs. Your photos make me want to tie on the old skates and zing around a rink on freshly zamboni-ed ice – the best stuff to skate on. Zamboni has a certain ring to it – do you ever wonder if there is a child around who is named Zamboni? H

  2. That’s better. Good and ordinary. I haven’t been outside for about two weeks now. Perhaps we’ll do something tomorrow.

  3. Fun! I’ve only been ice skating once, when I was in high school, about 35 years ago! I spent most of the time on the ice…with my butt on the ice that is! But it was still great fun!

  4. Hopped over after following the T-shirt Friday thread from Nursemyra… you can get zamboni themed clothing from their pro shop at zamboni.com. My father was a superintendant at the local ice rink for over 20 years… one of my best memories is sitting on his lap at the age of 10 and resurfacing the ice whenever I used to visit him at work on the weekends!

  5. beautiful! went skating outdoors with a friend recently, and it brought all the joy back from skating a frozen pond when i was a kid… i was closer to the ground then, and less afraid of falling, though.

    we considered (briefly) pirating the Zamboni. EVERYONE must have a zamboni fetish…

  6. You know, when I first came to your site, this was the first post I saw. I’m slow sometimes, and I didn’t catch whom that was a picture of. I thought it was you. I swallowed hard, and resolved not to judge “a book by its cover” and to be grateful for having acquired a new reader, and perhaps a new blogosphere friend.

    I refreshed my memory as to the definition of “palimpsest”, and read your byline referencing flesh, and came up with all sorts of questions about the tattoos, and the disparity (in my mind) between your appearance, writing, and child-rearing activities.

    After exploring your site for a while, and reading some of the comments appended to this post, the light bulb flashed on. That’s not you! You’re the guy in the “Me” section, who really doesn’t look very much like the rapper. You don’t look much like the icon on your posts, either – at least, not on the outside.

    So, there I was, feeling sheepish, perhaps a little embarrassed even; relieved, and not at all disappointed, and I thought to myself, “I have to share this. Little does Brian know that for a day or two, he had a real “bad dude” alter ego. I wonder if he’ll be happy to hear this, and happier to hear that it’s over.”

    So there you go – that’s the story of how I met Brian-the-rapper…

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