Just look at my husband’s preparatory stance, his excellent form, his tightly clenched hand; compare his “body language” with mine.. 😂
Yes, this is us, posing for a photo after a ten minute “get to know curling” session during an open house at a curling club here in Charlotte last Saturday.
I’m here to tell you, my husband approached this little activity as if he was trying out for a position on some future olympic team. Remember that scene in Home Alone where the neighbor kid is asking the driver 50 questions about the van Kevin’s family is taking to the airport?
Well…that was my hubby asking questions about curling.
How much does the rock weigh? What is it made out of? When do I let go of the handle? How old is this sport? What is the sweeping technique? How do I hold the broom? Where did the game originate? Am I sliding properly? How are points awarded?
Meanwhile, the people in our group, some of them in shorts, some of them no doubt on their third beers, were probably thinking “Heavens to Betsy man, just toss the sucker!!”
Once we had our two tries, we were herded over to another volunteer and we each had one chance to “sweep” in front of a sliding “rock.” The last time I saw my husband work a long, wooden stick-like instrument that ferociously was when we went white water rafting in West Virginia. Holy cow, if they had let him keep going, that rock would have eventually smashed through the back wall and lodged itself in the trunk of a car in the parking lot.
But they didn’t let him keep going.. and we were directed to put our brooms away.
After the curling, the sweeping and the photo op..and after my husband asked the person at the door ten questions about the rubber shoe covers we were returning, we headed back up the stairs and into the lounge area..
And there she was:
..a tall, beautiful, athletic blonde dressed in an official looking track suit with a large , glistening, gold medal suspended from her neck on a multi-colored ribbon.
A man with a microphone was midway through loudly introducing her as one of the Canadian gold medal winners from the two-thousand-and-whatever winter olympics. Well, my husband whipped out his cell phone faster than you can say “melt the ice” and took his place at the end of a small line of young guys waiting to have their pictures taken with the statuesque, curling queen.
He turned his head with a giddy smile to look for me.. nay- perhaps to have me take a photo..but at this point in the game my dear friends, I was half way to the bullseye at the bar.