Like many people around the world, the man of steel and I spent a good chunk of the weekend watching the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi. Like many people around the world, we are in the know about:
- Bob Costa’s bout with
pink eyeeye infection that has him sporting glasses. - the Sochi wall where Maria Sharpova hit tennis ball summer and winter.
- the skating palace designed to look like an ice berg.
- every sport that contains the words “ice” or “snow.”
- how to say Evgeni Plushenko without blinking an eye.
Unlike many people around the world, we feel like a couple eight-year-olds watching the games for the first time in their living memories. That’s because after years over a decade of no television due to the switch from analog to digital television that left us in the black hole of free television reception, we finally broke down and got Direct TV. Mainly to make Camp Dorothy‘s namesake happy come time for Wheel of Fortune. But as we’re discovering this weekend, our magnanimity combined with the coldest, snowiest Iowa winter in years, has the added benefit of allowing us to feel like we’re ringside at Sochi. Without the security checks or jet lag.
Worth every penny, I say.
And so does the man of steel. Inspired by the soaring heights achieved by slope styler Sage Kotsenburg and Evgeni Plushenko skating after back surgery, Hiram went cross-country skiing with a friend yesterday afternoon. Instead of a cute, body hugging skiing outfit, he wore old, insulated wind pants with a hole in the pocket that his cell phone slips through and gets caught in the hemline.
But that’s another story.
Watching the Olympics has inspired me, too. Though not enough to actually do anything physical. Instead, I’m watching the figure skating (team, men’s, women’s, pairs, and dancing–I’m an equal opportunity gawker) to become an expert about jumps, spins, footwork sequences, and all the other cool stuff whose names escape me. My plan is to become an expert in the field and replace Sarah Hughes as the female commentator, thus realizing a life long desire to meet Scotty Hamilton.
It could happen.
How do I know? Because even though I’m not a figure skater, I’ve eaten cereal from a box featuring the photograph of a figure skater. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to glue sequins on my kicky, flirty little figure skating commentator outfit. The 2018 Olympics are only four years away, and I have a lot to do before then.
