ice capades (m)

Saturday.  Skating show to support wounded warriors.  The woman who organized the show is a coach whose son was wounded in Iraq.  Todd Eldredge, former Olympic and World competitor is the star performer.

The plan is to leave the house at 12:30 to be in Amherst by 3.  More than enough time. 

I begin the day with laundry. Sam is home from college and the front hall is filled with clothes, bedding, etc.  This was the day my mother loved best.   It was her Olympics.  She would get out stains that were impossible to get out.  Iron more shirts than humanly possible.  Disinfect the memory-foam pad for the dorm bed.  Sort out all the hockey and baseball stuff.  Then clean the garage to make room for the sports equipment.  I am missing her like crazy.

I do 4 loads of laundry by 12 noon.  Enough to make a dent.  I am exhausted. 

Surprisingly, my knees aren't as bad as I thought they would be given the dancing the night before.  The aggressive PT is paying off, I think.

Get in the car at 12:30 and drive the 95 miles to the ice rink.   H and T sleep the whole way. 

As predicted, we arrive an hour early.  I go to the parents' lounge and there are refreshments...granola bars, nuts, water, M&Ms, peanut butter and crackers.  I settle for an oatmeal bar but I'm lusting for the M&Ms.  I've only had about 4 points thus far but I'm saving my points for dinner.

The ice show lasts for almost 3 hours.  The photos I submitted of my father, uncles and T's uncle--all veterans--which I thought would be used in the program book, are projected onto a screen bigger than life and flashed on when H is skating.  Just as he is about to go into a triple flip, he sees the screen and has this "What the ---" expression on his face. They probably should have told us the plan in advance.

After the show, some of the parents ask us to join them for dinner in Amherst town center.  We first tour the college to see if Harrison might be interested.  He loves it.

It's the night before Amherst College graduation.  The lines are long.  We get seated and order dinner at 8:30 p.m.  I'm so hungry I'm dizzy.  I have a margharita (hey, half of mine the night before spilled out before I could drink it).  I finish the drink and guess what?  I'm not so hungry anymore.  Is this why alcoholics are thin?  Hmm.  Maybe a new diet concept.

Have the chicken and spinach salad.  Boring, but on plan.

Head home at 10 p.m. 

Walk in the house at 11:30 p.m.  I think I'm hungry again.

En route to the kitchen, I pass the laundry room.  There are still piles there, including the washed clothes that need to be ironed.

That is enough to kill my appetite.

Go to bed.