Still Skating

Not quite two years ago, my daughter pestered us to sign her up for figure skating lessons. A monster was born. A skinny, graceful skating monster who makes me drive her to the rink to practice.

This past Christmas, she performed in her second ice show. You should have seen the worried face, the wringing hands, the profuse sweating . . .  I was a wreck. Do you know how difficult it is to watch your 11-year-old spin and glide around the ice in front of hundreds of spectators? You can forget about me capturing a clear picture. My tiny, delicate hands were shaking like a leaf. And she was spinning 100 mph. I can't stop motion, people.

The theme of this year's show was "A Country Christmas." I tried to convince my daughter to select a piece of music sung by Faith Hill or Taylor Swift. Maybe something sweet and pretty by Martina McBride or Amy Grant. Oh, no. She got all literal on my heinie. She insisted on Loretta Lynn's Country Christmas. LORETTA LYNN.

I don't know what song she skated to in her group number. Winter Wonderland, maybe? Let it Snow? Was it Silver Bells? I didn't notice because I was too busy watching my girl and trying not to cry. She was born, what was it, a couple months ago, I think. How can she already be 11 years old?



Dinner last night: roasted garlic- and herb-encrusted chicken breasts, garlic mashed potatoes (what's with all the garlic?)

Exactly one year ago:

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