Sumer Public is Icumen In

For those of you who didn't have a college roommate who majored in Middle English Literature, here's the origin of today's post title. She used to get drunk and sing it.

In Middle English:

Sumer is icumen in,
Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweþ sed and bloweþ med

And springþ þe wde nu,
Sing cuccu!

Translation:

Summer has arrived,
Loudly sing, Cuckoo!
The seed grows and the meadow
blooms
And the wood springs anew,
Sing, Cuckoo!

Tonight was my first summer evening public of the season. I've arranged my work schedule, and my off-ice training schedule so I can get some practice in in the evening. When I showed up the front desk told me I would be the only person on the ice. My heart beat fast with anticipation, but of course other people showed up. Still there were never more than 8 of us on the ice. And the ice was okay (except for the divots.) Semi-Delightful.

I worked on my inside threes for consistency and the not falling down part. My best solution is to do them as if I'm doing a mohawk--then not put the free foot in front. They're much nicer. So I trick my body into doing a mohawk, then I cheat and turn into a FI3. Works for me.

So I was toodling around working on the Canasta Tango when Pretty Boy Floyd showed up. I thought I knew all the male skaters at the rink, but there he was in his 20's. Tan, muscular, black boots, long black hair pulled back in a pony tail. After he had been fiddling around for a while I skated up to the rink guard. "Who's that?" I asked. "Oh that's Floyd," She said, "He thinks he's pretty."

Well, I've got 40+ years of eyeballing men more than the rink guard, and I can assure you, he was pretty.

He had a routine of doing some footwork, then getting a strong back edge, pump his arms as if he was about to jump, then....

Nada. Zero. Nothing.Zip.  Not even a waltz jump.

I thought he was maybe warming up for some big jumps, so I stayed out of his way at the other end of the rink, but still half keeping an eye on him in case he pulled out an axel, or a double anything. Over and over again, he'd build up the anticipation for a big jump and nothing ever happened.

I've dated men like that. All promise and no delivery. After a while, I just pretended he wasn't there and extended my dance patterns to his end of the rink. Use the ice or lose it, baby.