In Which Steph Falls Off A Skateboard.

So my kids are into skateboarding right now, for which I am to blame, having provided them with a trilogy of Tony Hawk's Trick Tips DVDs from the library and then hooking them up with a freecycled skateboard. Said skateboard is very much a children's model, decorated with the Cat in the Hat and featuring a deck and hardware much smaller than standard. I used to skateboard circa 1987-88 and was frankly not very good. My big trick was Going Down The Sidewalk, with the occasional Turning The Corner thrown in when I was feeling flashy. But my boys kept veering off of the sidewalk and onto the grass and I finally grew frustrated enough watching that I decided to show them my (limited) skating chops and demonstrate the way you can steer the board from side to side.


A thirty-five-year-old woman who gets onto a skateboard has no right to complain when she gets what's coming to her, namely road rash and possible sprains of wrist, elbow and shoulder. Particularly when that woman, setting a HORRIBLE example for her kids, was not wearing any protective gear. The last twenty-four hours have revealed to me that (1) my body is not as resilient as it once was when it comes to recovering from calamities, and (2) even at my relatively advanced age, there are still unplumbed depths and dimensions of my own idiocy to be explored.


In a totaly unrelated moment of pop-cultural endorsement, I am recommending the DVD of Anton Corbijn's Ian Curtis biopic "Control", which is all about the lead singer of Joy Division, shot in stunning B&W and completely required viewing for anybody who has ever admired either the music of the band or the album photography of Corbijn, who is probably best known for shooting the cover of U2's "The Joshua Tree" and a great many videos for that band, for Depeche Mode and numerous others. Everybody go put "Control" on your Netflix queue. Except for my mom, who reads this blog and would absolutely hate every single second of it including the font used for the credits.