How much longer until the Olympics are over? Don't get me wrong, I love the Olympics. But they're already affecting our nightly schedule and I'm becoming a bit concerned that by the time the whole shebang is over our family room will look like the finish line in a cross country event - the entire family sprawled on the floor, exhausted, as the closing ceremonies play out on the T.V. screen, one of us straining to reach the remote, but too weak to hit the power button.
There's just something about the Olympics that make you love every event. For example, I never think about the luge. Honestly, the entire sport doesn't cross my mind once during regular years, even when I'm participating in a snow-based activity. I'm not even sure what a luge looks like. But somehow, during the Olympics, I'll forgo a good night's sleep so I can watch a luge event. And I'll watch like I've grown up with the sport. After seeing just one NBC segment on the event and a few short runs, I become emotionally involved and find myself in my jammies, midway through brushing my teeth, cheering like a lunatic for a competitor I just learned about 10 minutes ago.
I'll tell you though, when we hear the newscasters give us the warning that they're going to share information on who won what medals that day, before we get the chance to see it all in prime time, you should see our Olympic-quality efforts at home. The speed at which we hurdle the couch and dive roll alongside the coffee table in order to grab the remote with one hand and mute the sound in a continuous motion is really something to behold.
I'm wearing this.
The temps are above freezing today and I absolutely refuse to wear a sweater. I almost went sleeveless in an act of defiance, but decided against it, opting for a neon yellow paisley to burn through the gray skies. Plus, my skinny, winter-pale arms are almost as disturbing as the thought of more snow.
gratitude: happiness, brownies, new People magazines at the orthodontist's office, a clean mudroom
thanks and love.