My Own Personal Ice-Capade

This weekend will go down in Danellen (our celebrity nickname) history. After finishing up a bunch of Christmas shopping and enjoying a wonderful meal at Milestones, Dan had the fabulous idea to go skating in the outdoor rink at Nathan Phillips Square in Downtown Toronto, which was really fun. My skates were sharp, my spirits bright, and we were bundled up like Ralphie in A Christmas Story.

It was kind of like the movie Serendipity, but not quite.

So, it's been a few years since I've skated, and it wasn't the best conditions to practice on for the first time again. There were hundreds of people on the ice, and it was totally chopped up.

Although I had a fairly tenuous start, I was doing good, but getting tired. And, I guess I wasn't picking up my feet enough because I was getting lazy and my pick caught, and I did a HUGE belly flop on the ice. No normal falling for me. None of the falling on your butt, side, etc. I fel directly on my stomach and arms. Flat. On. My. Face. I slid a little ways, and was absolutely covered in snow when I stood up.

Dan was in so much shock, and I was in shock (and I knocked the wind out of myself) but all I could do was laugh hysterically. I could hardly skate back to the bench because I was laughing so hard. I bruised a rib, my shoulder is hurt, and I'm still laughing (although it hurts because of my rib). Seriously, I'm still aching all over.

Poor Dan, planning a romantic winter evening and I'm just... typical Ellen. I think I get it from Grandma Ellen. She had a rather miserable track record of broken arms and legs from roller skating and water skiing.

Fortunately, I also got her sense of humor, which came in handy when we got back to the car and realized I had forgotten to take the tag off of the top of my toque and had worn it all over Toronto that night. Sigh. Some things never change.