History ... and hotness

I have an on-again, off-again relationship with the Olympics. It really depends on what the
A-list event of the games is. In 1996, I was captivated by the Magnificent Seven as they valuted and tumbled their way to history in Atlanta. In 2002, it was the heart-wrenching scandal of Canadian ice skaters Jamie Salé and David Pelletier being cheated out of the gold in Salt Lake City. (I also have a vague recollection of watching many heats of the slalom at
5 a.m. when I couldn't sleep. Gotta love replays.)

This year, I wasn't as jazzed. The time difference, meaning that nothing was being aired live -- no thanks to NBC -- coupled with my personal feelings toward China, the country that caused a mass outcry over lead in everything it exports except ramen, and has continually screwed over one of my friends who is adopting from there, had me kind of apathetic.

But then I got sent back to work in Sports two weeks ago, and we were watching the opening ceremony, which for some reason got me a little teary. There's something kind of amazing about seeing all these countries come together to celebrate their accomplishments -- and the world we live in today, opportunities to focus on the positive are few and far between.

And while it's impressive to see the delegations with hundreds of athletes, like the U.S. and China, I so enjoyed seeing the countries that only had five or ten athletes, waving so proudly as they entered the stadium. To me, that was far more moving than seeing LeBron James or Kobe Bryant (ew). And don't get me started on the hideous outfits the U.S. athletes wore in the opening ceremony. I love Ralph Lauren, but ... just ... no.

Being a former swimmer, it's, by far, my favorite sport to watch. Unlike, say, fencing, I understand it. And, well, once I saw the Superman in a speedo on the U.S. team, well ... I know he's younger than me, and I'm, you know, married, but I wouldn't mind doing the backstroke with him for a few hours ... in the pool, you sick people. (OK, just because I was told last fall, "Good job, Jenn. You do gutter so well," doesn't mean anything ...)

Anyway, it has been really cool to see Michael Phelps make history winning medal after medal. Eight gold medals at age 23 is kind of mindblowing. His butterfly is amazing. I did the stroke OK (I swam at districts in both the 200 IM and the 100 breaststroke) but he does it with, like, superhuman speed. And seriously, he's so hot. And he loves his mom. :::swoons:::

On an unrelated note that I am going to make related, you'd think more people would want to stay home and stare at Phelps on the Internet (see photo above) ... the traffic made me late for work five of five days this week. Hey, at least I'm consistent. One day, it took me more than 90 minutes to drive a commute that should take 45. Gas prices have more Americans taking "staycations" close to home, and I so do not endorse the never-ending stream of cars coming up from Oregon that don't realize the speed limit is 10 mph higher in Washington, or the people who clearly have never driven outside Whatcom County.

I thought about going up to Southcenter today, but with the way the traffic is, I think I'm safer sitting on my couch, and, you know ... staring at Phelps. Just kidding. I'm actually designing baby-shower invitations for the shower I am throwing for two co-workers, and working on my ficathon story. Uh, when's the deadline again? ;-)