Pre-Ramble:  As the Olympic Games continue, I am compelled to re-address the topic in a more thoughtful way.

To reduce the premier international competition to a flip commentary on fashion (as I did on 2-22-10), is to side-step the depth of value in such a peaceful coming together of nations. It also diminishes the significant amount of time, energy and sheer power of will required on the part of the individual athletes to bring themselves to this pinnacle of achievement. Olympic athletes cash in countless hours of hard work and sacrifice in exchange for the privilege of competing on the world stage. These are experiences that most of us will never have in our lifetimes. (… When was the last time you luged?)

As I tune in each night, I am both entertained and engulfed in the drama, as unexpected performances, circumstances and Olympic moments unfold before me. Where else in our lives do we have the opportunity to witness such feats of twisting, twirling, turning speed? Such grace and agility? Such skill and dedication?  Such fearlessness?

• Where else could we see the fast-paced thrill of a defiant puck b-line the frenetic, sprawling snarl of skates and sticks to reach the net in Olympic Hockey?
• Where else could we watch well-meaning, but misguided Dutch speed-skating coach Gerard Kemkers collapse in horror on the side-lines as he realizes that he has emphatically and inadvertently flagged record-breaking speed skater Sven Kramer into the wrong lane?  
• Where else could we witness the lyrical and technically superior program of Korean figure-skater Kim Yu-Na, possibly one of the greatest world-record performances in figure skating history?
• … Only to be followed by the courageous and poignant routine performed by Canadian skater Joannie Rochette just four days after the sudden death of her mother … where, at the end of her bronze medal routine, young Rochette looks up through her tears and extends a silent kiss into the heavens?

Reality show – When so many other media venues seem to celebrate profound inactivity, the Olympic Games give us nothing but action. The irony in the term “Idol” comes to mind here, as does the pumped up/lethargic Jersey Shore crew, standing around the breakfast bar in tank tops and flip-flops talkin’ about flippin’ nothin’.  The Olympic athletes give us a rare ring-side seat where we can watch as they bring their outstanding and exhausting physical and mental fortitude to meet the significant and challenging situation at hand.  Beyond the banality of a “reality show,” these athletes are giving us a glimpse into the reality of this audacious quest. 

The Take-Away:  Like the rare and fleeting prowess of the athletes themselves, the Olympic Games is a unique and wondrous spectacle. Nowhere else in our international culture are individuals and nations able to come together to share in this kind of collective moment. Through this international event, we have the remarkable privilege of standing alongside our fellow human beings and experiencing the spirit and exuberance in the moments that they have been working toward, some for more than half of their young lives.

Almost makes you want to go out and buy a cowbell!

Pre-Ramble:  So, like many of you, I was torn between the grand spectacle of the 2010 Olympic Games in Vancouver and the other grand spectacle of sorts – Spring Fashion Week in Bryant Park. Looks like we can cover both.

I mean no disrespect when I say that I found the vibe of the Olympics’ opening ceremonies to be an odd mash-up between Lord of the Dance, Hee-Haw and Peter Pan. The choppy step-dance moves executed by giant rag-dolls in lime green and buffalo plaid were curious enough, and then to have solo flailing denim boy swooping back and forth on a wire … I couldn’t decide if the display was innovative and magical or quirky and lame.

In the spirit of positive international relations with our close neighbors to the North, Vancouver’s efforts in the “Best Opening Ceremonies for an Olympics” event get the Bronze.

Mean girls – Another odd Olympic fashion moment occurred on the podium following the Women’s downhill race. American sweetheart, Lindsay Vonn had edged her team rival, Julia Mancuso by 0.56 seconds to win the gold medal. During the award ceremony, in what can only be described as an envious-kindergartener-trying-to-upstage-the-birthday-girl move,  Mancuso stood on the podium next to the radiant Vonn to accept the silver, wearing some kind of little rhinestone princess tiara. It was sad. 

Faux=no!  And, somebody needs to take the men’s figure-skating athletes aside and give them some do’s and don’t’s on wardrobe. DO wear sleek monochromatic suits with some subtle, manly detail, … even a little fuchsia or bling is acceptable. DON’T even lace up your skates if you have the shape of a vest and necktie glued onto the front of your skating suit in red and blue sequins. Feathers of any kind are also out.

Ready … Aim … Fire … What really caught my fancy this time around though, was the biathlon – Wow! These gals cross-country ski up and down a bunch of trails with a sharp-shooters’ rifle strapped to their backs. At designated sites along the course, they stop, lie down, and fire away until they have landed 5 precision shots on their target, at which point they are allowed to continue with the race.  What a blast!  As far as biathla-fashion goes, the tight, colorful, spandex unitards are very flattering – kind of like Spanx outerware. Based on the beyond-grueling ordeal of the multi-calorie-busting biathlon event, I’m guessing that body fat and visible panty lines are a non-issue.

I’m thinking that we can adapt the biathlon event to the local scenario … Our 9-hole golf group can jog around the neighborhood with a 7-iron and a bucket of balls lashed to our backs … stopping every now and then to punch a few chip shots onto peoples’ front lawns.  It’ll be great! I’ll start designing our uniforms!

The Take-Away:  Fashion forward or not, the Olympic games are both daunting and inspiring for the spirit and vigor that they celebrate. And, if anyone can find a spare pair of those adorable red official Olympic mittens, please send them my way. I’ll pay ya back in Canadian, there ey.

Pre-Ramble:  So, I guess Sarah Palin had a tea party last week.  I wasn’t invited.  As a registered Independent for the last 25 years, I’m not invited to vote in the primaries either.

Well, so, in our perennially polarized political system, the majority is either swinging way over to the right … or they’re swung way over to the left … and the folks in the middle pretty much get knocked out of the way.  The outcome of this ”pendulum politics” is that nothing of substance ever seems to get done.

Just the ticket – If candidates who want to get elected camp out in the middle (you know who you are) because there are so many votes there, why don’t we formalize that group?  Maybe there’s room in the system for a third party?  … Ya think?

The Take-Away:  I have a great idea … rather than just taking our  lumps, let’s set up a couple rows of folding chairs in the center of The Aisle?  ( … Independent Party on the Aisle!!  Woot!! ) … I’m not sure how many we’ll need …  I want one … and we probably need one for Senator Bayh … and a couple of seats for my neighbors …

Let me know if you want a spot and I’ll toss my coat over it until you get there.

Pre-Ramble:  Every Sunday morning, I drag myself into the kitchen, fire up a pot of dark roast, and wait patiently while my beloved husband cooks up a batch of his world-famous pancakes.  He has perfected his top secret recipe and technique over the years to the point where I don’t even bother to order pancakes in restaurants any more because they couldn’t possibly measure up.

So, while I’m waiting for the batter to “rest” (apparently a critical part of the perfect pancake routine) I flip through the Sunday paper. We get the New York Times on Sundays — a consistently informative and insightful account of the events and issues of the day. Being the inquiring and scholarly type, I rifle through the pile to find, 1) the Sunday Magazine; 2) the Arts & Leisure section; and 3) the Styles section. 

I could lie here and say that I take an in depth look at the Week in Review and the Business sections, but the level of discourse on my blog pretty much rats me out on that. 

The Sunday Magazine always has a couple of interesting interviews or articles. This week there’s a fascinating piece on a synthetic biology competition (… the International Genetically Engineered Machine (iGEM) competition); a short story about a kid writing a college application essay about his younger brother who is autistic; and a fascinating profile on CNN chief international correspondent, Christiane Amanpour, detailing her morning routine, the last book she’s read, the fictional character she most identifies with, and her career aspirations at age five.  All good stuff.

The Arts & Leisure section, as indicated by its name, has lots of interesting and colorful information about ground-breaking forms of entertainment that I will never see, like Ten-Time-Tony-Award-Winning shows on Broadway, Balanchine Week, Post-Minimalist art, and Jeff Beck live. (I have actually experienced that last one … It was deafening.)

It’s the Style section that contains the real entertainment. It has, after all … (drum-roll … fanfare … ) … THE WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENTS! 

Here are three reasons why those are so fun:

1. Match made in heaven – “When I met Adrian, it was like being hit over the head with a shovel,” Ms. Scouler said.  Mr. Weindling, however, recalled being skeptical of her upbeat personality… “Gillian walked in, and she was overwhelmingly bright, friendly and positive, which is usually a turnoff for me,” he said.
2. Got a younger brother? – “Dr. Kaple, 28, is a second-year medical resident in internal medicine at Massachusetts General Hospital. He graduated magna cum laude from Notre Dame and received a medical degree, with honors, from Yale.”
3. Third time’s a charm – “The bridegroom’s two previous marriages ended in divorce.”

The Take-Away: There’s something simultaneously engaging and daunting about reading the street cred/life achievement/love worthy bios of two people who are about to walk down the aisle to certain wedded bliss. I am curious. The announcements make me wonder who the people are, what brought them together, and what their lives will be like. Their stories remind me of my own. Some make me smile. Some make me cringe. Either way, I wish them well.

Pre-Ramble:  Well, it’s time for the annual pre-Valentine’s Day NECCO Sweethearts Conversation Candies update. Last year, as you recall, I posted some fascinating factoids about the petite, chalk-like treats (”Be Mine” 2-12-09), including the fact that over 8 million of the candy hearts are sold during the Valentine holiday. 

Who says we’re not a nation of innovators?  After 145 years of tepid quasi-sugary flavors and pale pastel hues, the NECCO R&D team has boldly changed up their formulation to include sassier, tangy fruit flavors like Green Apple, Blue Raspberry, Lemon and Grape, as well as incorporating deeper shades of color (see above).

NECCO has also logged onto the social media craze, updating the sappy messaging of yore like “You’re Nice,” … “Try Me,” … and “Sweet Pea,” to high tech sayings like “Tweet Me,” “Text Me,” and “Friend Me.” (I made that last one up, but if it isn’t in their repertoire, it should be.) Apparently, there is also an iPhone app that will send a personalized Sweethearts message to your beloved’s Twitter page … @#aw-sum.

The jury is still out on whether these innovations represent an improvement, but according to the discriminating palates duking it out on facebook, response to the new colors, flavors and texture (molten play-dough?) has been mixed.

The Take-Away:  As a writer, I love the concept of these short form messages, however, no matter how clever, heart-shaped or tech-forward, I will shove them around on my desk or throw them into an open sunroof, but I will NEVER eat a NECCO Sweatheart Conversation Candy.

Note to sweetie: Give me a cupcake or diamond pendant any day.

Pre-Ramble:  Ok … sounds like they had some snow over on the East Coast yesterday. 

I’d like to be supportive and giddy along with them as they scurry around stockpiling soup and shrieking about the “vast brindled nebula that stretched 400 miles along the Chesapeake coast, knocking out power to thousands and causing numerous accidents“ … and waxing poetic about the “enchanted snowbound adventure” that lies piled up on their doorsteps and streets …

“The hard edges of Washington were softened as the snow recast the capital of monuments and malls into a postcard town of soft ice cream shapes that had been statues and aerodynamic blobs that had been parked cars: the buried machines of a lost civilization. The Capitol and the White House vanished in the whiteout, cross-country skiiers appeared in parks and the Potomac was a grayish plate of pewter.”

Sure. Great. Let’s get all bundled up and go sledding.

The Take-Away:  There is no doubt that extreme weather, particularly snow, can be a very beautiful thing … It’s just that we here in Minnesota live with that scenario 6 months out of the year. I am scheduled to be in D.C. for a conference next week (look for a blog post or two on that) and I’d really appreciate it if they could make a concerted bi-partisan effort to have both sides of the aisle on that winter wonderland mess cleaned up by the time I get there.

Post Note:  “Good Dog” blizzard tip for First Canine Bo from seasoned, Minnesota snow-bunny, Daisy – Make sure the President shovels a potty-path out onto the front lawn … it’s next to impossible to “maneuver” in deeper-than-doggie-tummy-level snow.

Pre-Ramble:  This just in — that toothy marmot, Punxsutawney Phil crawled out of his lair earlier today and saw his stupid shadow, which means we get another six wretched weeks of winter. 

I take umbrage to that, you lethargic rodent!

You know, there is totally a conflict of interest here. According to the National Geographic News, as per the Groundhog Day tradition,

“If Punxsutawney Phil emerges from his temporary burrow—a simulated tree stump at the rural site of Gobbler’s Knob—on February 2 and sees his shadow, winter weather will continue for six more weeks. But, if Phil doesn’t see his shadow, then spring temperatures are just around the corner.”

Basically, this means that a “shadow” call buys P. Phil six more weeks of lollygagging in his lair, whereas, the “no shadow” call means an immediate suspension of hibernation mode. Any weasel with half-a-brain could figure that one out.

Plus, folks over at the U.S. National Climatic Data Center (NCDC) have estimated that “while Phil’s proponents maintain that his predictions are 100 percent accurate, … Phil is only correct about 40 percent of the time…”

“… By taking Phil’s predictions and comparing them with average temperatures in February and March, [we have been able to determine that there have been] many years when Phil’s predicted six more weeks of winter weather, and February and March turned out to be warmer than average.”

Pathetic!  This celebrated varmint has got one job to do — make a single, stinking weather prediction – and he only scores right 40 percent of the time?!   He’s got a lot of nerve and one heck of a PR firm. 

The Take-Away:  All this fuss for a two minute photo op and some lame guesstimate?!  …  In a nod to the new millennium, let’s upgrade the format … That chubby rascal may as well change his name to G-Hog, stay in his flippin’ burrow, flip a coin, and Tweet the outcome on his fan page.