Day 109

Ever feel like you’re skating on thin ice? Like maybe there’s only a few inches between you and the cold plunge into your own private, freezing cold hell?

Well never fear, Bob and Ed are here.  

These trusty men, employed  by the town, come out every winter morning with a drill and a tape measure to make sure the ice is thick enough for skating.  I have spent years of my life wondering exactly who hangs that green flag on the side of the road and posts the cheery billboard that says SKATING TODAY! My dad used to tell me they drilled into the ice to test it, but I could not really imagine such a thing. Having never seen it, and being a cheerful skeptic by nature — not to mention afraid of heights, thin ice, rip tides, deep water, mean people, big knives, horses, etcetera — I assumed there was some more scientific and therefore precarious measure of ice safety.

But as I was sitting beside the ice on Friday, wondering how I could be sure it was safe if there weren’t a dozen little kids already out there checking it for me, I saw two bundled men sliding across the lake in the distance.

“Well they didn’t fall through,” I thought. “So it must be safe.”

But they weren’t just ordinary men. They were Bob and Ed. Bob, with the drill. Ed, with the tape measure.  I watched them drill and measure about ten holes in the ice before gliding out there myself.

It was safe! Bob and Ed made sure of it!

Now if only I could take them everywhere with me to check the rip tides, make sure I don’t get too close to the ledge, and to drill for mean people in the supermarket and at school meetings.

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