Earlier this month our landlords gave Christopher and I a weekend getaway they won in a charity raffle. They’re always just incredibly kind and generous like that.
The memorable highlights of our weekend included a heated indoor pool, perfect for the two 11 year old girls, and a yummy tavern restaurant on the first floor of our inn, perfect for tired & hungry adults. There was also an outdoor ice rink where the girls skated – for our family friend it was her first time ever. Apparently there are not many ice rinks in her home country of Iraq. Welcome to America, where we put sharp blades on our feet and unsteadily slide across bodies of water that are often not completely frozen and therefore deathly dangerous.
In a spur of the moment decision, Christopher decided to be The Best Dad Ever and rented his own pair of ice skates. One and a half times around the rink, he fell on the ice & busted a bunch of stitches in his arm. While he went across the street to the First Aid building, I casually kicked fresh snow over the substantial amount of blood spatter. A horrified lady walking in with three kids watched me, looking like she was rethinking their choice of afternoon activity. For some reason I thought it would be reassuring if I told her that no teeth were lost in the incident but luckily something held me back from volunteering that information. To wipe clear any nasty mental images, here’s some rather idilic photos I took before the accident.
Happy End of Winter.