Rollerskating at 39 Years and Counting

Jackjack and I spent the afternoon at the roller rink yesterday, and several things about that experience showed me that I’m painfully close to turning 40.

Aunt Jeannie teaching me to skate, 1977

To wit:

• We spent 3 hours there, and the only songs I recognized were “Somebody I Used to Know” and “Gangham Style.” Even the littlest girls were singing along to stuff I’d never heard before.
• No Peaches & Herb singing “Reunited.” I spent a zillion hours at Cal Skate when I was a kid, and they played that at every single session. Whenever I hear it now, I want to lace up and go.
• Rollerskating now makes my quads burn?!? What’s up with that?
• No speed skate, although it would have been quite upsetting to be lapped by an 9 year old.

Thankfully, some things haven’t changed. See the horrible brown skates? The obnoxious carpet? And remember the black light that shows all the lint on your shirt? Awesome.

Best of all? Jackjack got tired before I did! I need to take him skating more often…