Yeah, my iliotibial band hurts. Looks like I have some stretching in my future. Or RICE. Yummy. Not the glutinous, water-grown grain but Rest, Ice, Compress, Elevate.
Anyway, yesterday was a holiday so after riding my trainer the family went out to a movie and some shopping. I needed some shoes and jeans. In the shoe store I was trying on a really cool pair of Vans, with a checkerboard pattern that reminded me of shoes I lusted after when I was a kid. I was walking around in them. Gert approved (they have the same bottom pattern as her pair of Vans). I asked Matilda what she thought and she made a funny face.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like them.”
“Well,” she said, “not with that shirt.”
Obviously. Apparently navy blue Wilco t-shirts and black tennis shoes don’t match. Somewhere deep within, my inner-Tim Gunn knew that. But I bought the shoes instead, assuming that I’d periodically wear something other than navy blue.
We saw The Waterhorse, which was okay. It was exactly like ET only Scottish and wet. During a very tense moment in the film, including storms and bombs, we saw lights flash. Gert sat up straight and starting to look around within a fraction of a second. Then the fire alarm went off.
Gert stood, grabbed my hand without saying a word, and started leading me toward the nearest exit. I quickly tried to snatch up our coats, but mom had to get them for us because Gert was intent on leading us to safety. She was not screwing around. She wasn’t scared, exactly, but on autopilot. As Safety Girl she knew what needed to be done.
Turned out it was a false alarm and we were able to see the rest of the film. But I was proud of Gert. As a very fearful girl I had assumed that she would have freaked out. But she didn’t. She knew exactly what to do and was more concerned about getting her family to safety. Good girl.
We rewarded her with a man-sized burger (her words) at a fifties-style diner. When our food arrived, Gert picked up her burger, looked at it with wide eyes and said, “Burger meet mouth. Mouth, burger” and proceeds to take an enormous, satisfied bite.
Saving your family from a false alarm during a mediocre movie is hungry work, my friend.
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