The rink has felt awkward lately. There's just a general awkward, strange, silent vibe going through the building. I think people know what happened, or have some clue, but no one wants to acknowledge it. Those that have details aren't talking and those who are in the dark probably want to stay there. Honestly, as someone who seems more in tune to emotional undercurrents, I've been dreading going to the rink for the past week.
But I've always lived by the "fake it till you make it" mantra. None of it affected us directly so what really do I have to complain about? So things are awkward, so what? Keep going.
I talked about things with my Neutral Third Party (who knows no one at the rink) over lunch on Tuesday and I felt better. The waiter brought us the House Salsa and some on the house beverages to wash the hot-as-lava vegetable mix down, and all was right again. (Carrots should never be that hot.)
Newly resolved, Stitch and I went to Practice Ice last night.
And we had fun. I talked with my rink friends about the upcoming show, Stitch had his lesson (lots of sit spins and jumps), we laughed a lot and wasted a fair amount of time, but I felt it was okay in light of how weird the past week had been. My rink friends are determined that I be in the show. I assured them that it would be a cold day in hell before that happened, then I remembered where I was.
Stitch and I headed home, and as much as I have high hopes for evenings after Practice Ice, both of us are too shot to do much but drink hot chocolate and watch TV. So that's what we did; watching Esteban, Zia and Tau search for the Mysterious Cities of Gold on Netflix.
This morning I found two wet little boy socks in my jacket pocket, and an errant glove. Now that I know his number, I'll put Stitch's rehearsal schedule on the family calendar, and this weekend we may be cleaning the Costume Room. Or, at least we need to before work starts on Winter Show.
Literature, movies, TV shows, they all have us spoiled by their endings. The Ends are always neat, wrapped up nicely and clearly defined. But in real life, that doesn't happen. It doesn't happen that way because nothing ever really ends. It just keeps going, for better, for worse, like it or not, one foot in front of the other.
My Rink Friend expressed some desire to see me step up more at the Rink. I said I'd do whatever was needed of me. Again, for all my crabbing on this blog, I wouldn't be doing this if I truly hated it. I really do like spandex and glitter, wet blades, bad spills, high egos and drama. If it weren't for the crazy in my life, I'd be pretty bored. And let me tell you, Rink Life comes pretty darn close to working the exotic animal show when it comes to the ridiculous factor.
I still miss the exotic animal show. Lion pee, possum puke and all.