Mice skate close to the edge, write 8s

Thanks so much to Kim of Hummus Anonymous for getting me inspired for this week's art class.  Seeing the finger figure skates made by her daughter got me looping about the mental ice. But like most inspirations, I was caught in the crossfire of memories, images, words, and events.

Snow on the playground made Tuesday magical. Getting the smallest students bundled for a real life snow experience involved lots of turning sleeves right-side-out, and aiming thumbs into their own mitten studio apartment.

The five year olds are practicing writing the number eight.  This number is both the beautiful, graceful, double om of loops on ice, and purest torture for most young writers.  S S S, then / / /.  Link the bottom to the top.  No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, don't take that detour!  Don't double back around!

My ankles are too wobbly for skating, and my shoulder too shaky for holding the picture book back-handed.  Ed and Rebecca Emberley's picture book, Mice On Ice, added more ideas to the mix.  Next week the kids will make a 3-D ice rink.  The white crayon wax resist with the blue watercolor/black ink wash looked nicely icy.

"You are skating on thin ice" implies risky behavior without the disrespectful attitude associated with "pushing your luck". While I was pleased to find Kristi Yamaguchi's Olympic "Blue Danube" program online, I can't find Mary Tyler Moore's classic figure skating spin from the early 70s.

I'm midway between the eighth anniversary of my mother's death and the first anniversary of my dad's. As Dad worked through paralyzing grief at Mom's death, he found a little window of light.  "I'll never have to watch figure skating again!"









© 2012 Nancy L. Ruder

Napping for roller derby

The Lady In Red heaved Dad out of his wheelchair and into bed.  We were discussing World Wrestling Federation moves.  This led naturally into roller derby recollections.

I'd gotten Dad's shirt off, and hospital gown on, but I can't transfer him.  Once she got him flopped onto the bed, I peeled off his shoes, socks, and sweatpants, while Ms. Red checked his diaper. 

Ms. Red said she used to take a good nap just so she could stay up late and watch roller derby on tv. She wanted to be a Bay City Bomber when she grew up.  Ms. Red is young, born in 1963.  My students are younger, but some of them have a future skating round and round, pointlessly bulldozing into anyone in their path.

I watched roller derby as a kid on weekend afternoons in black and white.  Unless the Yankees had a game the viewing choices were slim--bowling, fishing, the local talent show, golf with Arnold Palmer and Gary Player, or "Learn to Draw" with Jon Gnagy.  Several of these options were nap-inducing!

Tuesday Dad wanted me to sit with him until he fell asleep.  He was chilly after supper, so I covered him with two quilts.  I sat next to him, stroking his skinny arms, and eventually just letting the weight of my hand on his chest secure him for his exit ramp to sleep.  It's in my job description.  I do the same thing for seven to ten preschoolers most afternoons.  Hush little baby, don't you cry, close your eyes so you can watch roller derby...

Dad can't put any weight on his legs to stand for the quick pivot into bed now.  He can't hang his arms around Ms. Red's neck and dance with her.   Most significantly perhaps, he can't stand and pivot enough to be put on the toilet for a bowel movement.  My intent is not to be gross, but to document the progressive loss of independence and self esteem, and the sadness of observing this deterioration. 

After my trip I'll have some nice photos of geese.  Right now you will have to draw your own with Jon Gnagy!

© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder

Nancy Lou and the East German judge

Talk about Olympic pressure! I did fine on the compulsories in the Albertson's self-checkout: carton of OJ beep; Ragu beep/bag; can of beans beep/bag; Rotel beep; bag of little carrots beep; bag-o-frozen-tilapia beep; dishwasher detergent beep/bag.

Just when I started my free-style performance of the choreographed items with their much higher degree of difficulty, the East German judge showed up behind me in line. He announced is disgust with my technique with loud "hvrumvphs" and steroid-packed sneers. I could do nothing to please him.

The roma tomatoes lacked a sticker so I had to Look Up Item. I stuck the birthday card into my purse, which set off demands from the checkout machine to bag the item. The plastic bags developed static cling and refused to open. The beer required store approval, and the attendant was off somewhere in la-la land and slow to key in the code. My purse bumped the machine, setting off the Unexpected Item In Bagging Area complaints, and then my debit card wasn't scanning right. That must be the grocery store equivalent of failing to stick the dismount. From the corner of my eye it was obvious the judge was marking down my scores and bristling with Cold War animosity. One more "hvrumvph" and I might have Tonya Hardinged the guy with my balky grocery cart.

Stick: To stick a landing is to land, and remain standing without requiring a step. A proper stick position is with legs bent, shoulders above hips, arms forward. Sticking consistantly takes regular practice. http://www.drillsandskills.com/definitions

Sticking a landing with two full grocery bags in each hand consistently takes nerves of steel. Now there's a reality show for the writers' strike! "Where are they now?'' Vote for your favorite Olympic skaters and gymnasts as they duke it out for charity dollars in the Albertson's

Check-Out With The Stars:

Mary Lou Retton

Michelle Kwan

Dorothy Hamill

Nancy Kerrigan

Olga Korbut

Nadia Comăneci

Peggy Fleming

Jayne Torvill

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder