di's candy drawer

Thank GOD (and Ben & Jerry, too, I suppose) that this splendiferous (I have no idea what this word means, but it sounds appropriate) flavor of ice cream is far too sweet/rich to eat more than a few bites of — each one of them at least 100 calories, prolly. Otherwise, I would no doubt be passed out on the bed or the couch or the floor, even, instead of perched here, on my spinny office chair, candles burning all around me (though I just blew out the banana bread candle ... not because it doesn’t smell good, but because the rest are vanilla and I don’t want to waste it when its smell is virtually being drowned out ... or, as they say, “drownded,” as if you can actually drown out a smell, anyway). Regarding the ice cream, however: I love the name. And the fact that there are chunks of stuff in it. Plus it is a limited batch, which hopefully means it will sell out at the local Wal-Jack SOON and I will NOT be tempted to buy it next trip out there. (The Lovely bought this pint.)

: )

The Olympics have started. I am watching the Opening Ceremony even though I know it is on tape, and the part of me that prefers LIVE sports ANYTHING over taped is rather irate, yet I know that had it been shown live — and perhaps it was, on one of the umpteen NBC stations devoted to covering the 2004 Summer Games — I would have surely missed it.

And in walks the team from Greece, right now, and I adore that the Olympics are in Greece, and I curse the powers-that-be who decided that our lil’ 3,500-circulation newspaper did not quite qualify for a media pass (heh — though I DID try to get one!), but I can deal.

I am a huge fan of the Olympics. The Olympics turn me into a weepy, patriotic mess at the most unexpected moments; they give me chills and fill me with wonder, still, because I really cannot imagine anything greater than representing your country in some kind of athletic event. I mean, I would think anyone who has ever swung a baseball bat or a tennis racket, or jogged or sprinted or raced, or thrown or kicked or shot a ball of any kind, or ridden a bicycle, or paddled, or ANYTHING sports-related, at one time or another, would have imagined, for a second or two or a lifetime, perhaps, winning an Olympic medal.

My first utterly outlandish dream was winning Wimbledon. My second, of course, was standing on the podium, having a medal draped around my neck.

Perhaps I will cover the Olympics someday. That would be mighty cool.