Do you know what sounds like a good idea in theory but turns out to be the most awesome thing ever in practice?

That's right. Ice skating. Oh how I love ice skating. In the winter, mostly in junior high and the early years of high school, we'd all head over to Inwood on Friday nights and ice skate before heading over to Aurelio's for mozzarella sticks. Mostly we'd skate around the rink a couple of times before hitting the benches to talk about Debbie Gibson and boys, but you know, same idea.

Last night at Millenium Park it was so cute to see the junior-high aged girls, all glammed up as they can be, to rent skates and stand around, giggling.

So the rink was packed last night, and I only skated for about a half-hour, owing to skates that were a size too small and left my arches cramped up. By the time I'd finally gotten a pair in my size, there wasn't much time left. However, I'd hit just enough of a stride to feel pretty pleased with myself that I'm still pretty skilled on skates, meaning that I managed to dodge rowdy teen-aged boys and not trip over my own feet.

Cosi was closed so there were no S'mores, but then again, Morton's does make a mighty fine chocolate cake that washes down well with a glass of Cabernet.

As promised, here is Glin and her collar. It's not as tacky as it could be - I mean, the lights could be larger - but it's certainly not understated. Glin is not an understated dog. After all, this is a beast who this morning, in one bite, busted open a canvas training bumper. And those things are supposed to be practically indestructible. When Kate and I got home from the show Saturday night, Glin was out with Jenni and Frankie and, in one leap, jumped the gate and headed straight for us. Basically, this is all to say that Glin won't be contained, denied, or stopped, so it's only right that she sport a ridiculous holiday themed collar.

It keeps her humble.

Lastly, this morning, as I began to style my hair for work, somehow I managed to singe off an entire chunk of my bangs. In one shot. I turned on the hair dryer, brought it to my round brush and, BAM! The smell of fried hair went through the apartment and the carnage of hair fell around me. Do not ask me what happened because I'm not entirely sure.

All I know is that I am now walking around with a tuft of hair sticking up where fully formed bangs used to be and the rancid smell of burnt hair as my perfume. Nothing says "Happy Holidays" than bad hair, right?

Posted by Erin at 09:50 AM | filed under: Random Stupidity

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