My inaugural year of curling has come to an end. In honour of this momentous occasion, I leave you with a short video of myself in action on the ice. Thanks to my good friend, Nadia, for her camera skills and concise commentary!
So, I am helping my daughter with her homework the other day and she asks me to check her math. I find two mistakes and hand it back to her.
“Oh, no,” she sighs.
“That’s OK,” I tell her, “everyone makes mistakes. It is how we learn.”
“Right,” she replies, “Everyone makes them.”
“That’s right, kiddo!”
“Yeah, everyone makes makes mistakes. I mean, look at you, you make them everyday!”
Thanks, kiddo!
Easy.
Stay in bed all morning and write. This way you can get work done and feel like a lazy putz all at the same time.
It is the morning after Halloween and I have a Halloween Hangover. I didn’t think I ate that much candy last night, but perhaps abstaining for so long left my poor body ill-prepared for the indulgences of last night.
Oh, those little chocolate bars, so deceivingly small. They can really sneak up on a girl. One minute you are enjoying a glass of wine by the fire and nibbling on a snack-sized Crispy Crunch, next thing you know, 17 wrappers have piled up and you have only had two sips of wine. How do these things happen?
By bedtime, I must have entered into a sugar-induced coma, because I slept right through the alarm this morning.
“Mommy, is it time to get up yet?”
“Hmmm… yes, it certainly is.” It was about an hour ago, as well.
So off we go. Leaving the house, we run into another mom who forgot her daughter’s water bottle at our place during Trick-or-Treating last night. I hand over the water bottle and hope she does not notice that I am dressing my kid in layers because, apparently, we have lost her winter coat.
We make it to school, I get the kid delivered and head home to take a shower. Some guy honks at me in traffic. Of course, it is not my fault, but my blood boils and I start to wonder if I am experiencing a symptom of sugar withdrawal?
Oh, the Halloween Hangover, not just for kids anymore.
And the curling adventure continues!
In a “Housewives of Southwest Edmonton” kind of moment, I had a private lesson at the club with the young pro. I am not actually a club member, but membership is not required for curling in the Ladies League and, fortunately, this exemption also applies to curling lessons.
So I went off to the curling rink and, except for the almost throwing up part, I have to say that it went quite well. I learned how to position myself for throwing the rock, I learned how to understand the directions from the Skip and I learned how the scoring works. I arranged for an hour-long lesson and hoped it would be long enough to figure how to do this. How naive.
We started off walking around the ice so I could feel comfortable on it. Good idea. Then we started “throwing some rocks” as they say down at the rink.
The pro lent me a slider to practice with. For those of you who are not yet educated on the wide world of curling, a slider is something you put on the foot that slides out in front on you when you throw the rock. The curlers who actually know what they are doing have special shoes with the slider built-in to their shoe. Me? I use duct tape.
So we start throwing rocks. He throws a few to show me how it is done. Easy peasy. I throw a rock and feel as graceful as a new-born calf as my legs splay out underneath me. The slider, apparently, is very slippery. A lot more slippery than duct tape.
So I throw some more. I am kind of getting the hang of it and wonder if there is such thing as a gutter ball in curling. I don’t want to ask for fear of appearing too dumb.
I throw some more rocks. Trying to keep my balance while shoving this big rock down the ice is starting to make me a bit tired. How can this be, I wonder, it looked so easy when I watched it on the Olympics.
I am starting to sweat and shake. I look up at the clock in the rink and see that we are 15 minutes into the lesson.
“Can I just sit on that bench for a while and you can explain some of the rules to me?” I puff. I am thinking that I just might throw up I am so exhausted.
No problem, he tells me. And don’t feel bad about being tired, you have thrown more rocks today than you would normally throw during a game of eight ends.
Good, I think to myself as I try to appear casual while wiping the sweat off my head and attempting to air out my hair a bit so it does not stick to my head.
After he explains the rules of the game I am still out of breath. I cannot possibly stand up as I am still feeling dizzy.
“And so how does the scoring work?” I push out in one breath.
Good stalling tactic, but I think I am going to need more questions. I glance up at the clock as he wraps up the scoring explanation, we are now 30 minutes into the lesson. Halfway done and I am still breathing heavy. I can’t handle any more exertion, I need to lie down. How can I be so wrecked already? I have to admit defeat and I sheepishly look up at the pro.
“Can we quit now?”
“Sure!” the Pro says, looking at me with what I think is pity, “It is tiring isn’t it?”
I nod.
“Are you sure you don’t have anymore questions?”
I shake my head. Except for wondering if I am safe to drive myself home without passing out, I can’t come up with anything. I manage to get my shaking legs up the stairs, pay for my lesson and wobble out to the parking lot. Tomorrow I have to curl eight ends with the Ladies League, better get home for a nap.
