When I was a wee one (yes, I was actually wee – once – a very long time ago), my folks would bundle me in a snow suit and we’d go ice skating.

My first skates were double bladed and I loved skating.

Nobody told me that I would one day have to forsake my beloved double-blade skates for a single bladed skate.

WTF?

How are you supposed to balance on what is, in my opinion, the same as a butter knife?

Upon trying these grown-up skates, I lost my love of ice skating.

I did not, and I still don’t understand why double bladed skates are not an option for grown-up feet.

Oh, sure, if you want to be a figure skater or a racing skater!

But what if you just want to putter around the rink without worrying about falling on your fat old lady ass (or, as in those days, your fat young girlie ass)?

And I gave it a try – multiple times.

Every winter, the city would flood part of one of the parks by the river and make a skating rink.  And I would dutifully pull on those skates, lace them up as tight as I could, and crab walk to the ice and go around once – twice.  However, many times seemed sufficient to having given it a try before I went back to the warming hut and pull off those butter knife blades of steel.

I even went to the ice skating parties in Los Angeles that David James organized for the casts of A Winter’s Tale.

At least that was an indoor rink with actual guardrails you could grab onto.

Ice skating was the only winter activity that ever interested me.

Sledding involves too much time getting back to the top of that hill.

We were not a skiing family.

Snowmobiling is too noisy and windy.

I just liked sliding along on the ice – on 4 blades.

Sometimes growing up sucks.

Ah – who am I kidding?

Most of the time growing up sucks.