I can predict the weather.
Seriously. I don’t bother with the five-day forecast. I’ll look at it and scoff. Because my figure skating knees are tell me otherwise.
Years of ice cold arenas have left me with a cool ability to be a walking barometer.
I knew last Sunday that Wednesday’s heavy snow was on the way. My face felt like it was going to explode. Then it moved into my knees. Ah, there’s nothing like feeling like the caps of your knees are about to pop off.
Summer’s the best. Rain’s on the way. I know two or three days ahead of time. My head pounds. My face is puffy. Oh, yes, I’m sexy.
When forecasters change the long range and people modify their plans – I want to say “Stop! What do you think you’re doing?”
My mother-in-law used to say, “Listen to your body. It knows.”
And she was right. That achy shoulder? It might not be a muscle pull. It could be precipitation. That sore elbow? Might be snow. Fingers tight? Sleet, my friend.
It’s funny, because I broke my elbow, and not once has it been affected by the weather. And how did I break it?
Oh, figure skating.