Monday, August 25, 2008

It's Shocking.

I cry at the Olympics. It's a strange part of the whole experience for me. I don't know, maybe some of you are secret cryers so I might just be out here on my own.

I cried about the story of the "old" Russian gymnist -- she's my age -- who went to Germany to help save her little boy.

I cried almost every single time our national anthem played. I must be in some way secretly related to Michael Phelps because I cried at some point almost every time he came up. Mostly it was due to his single mom raising such a great boy and wondering if I could do that.

I cried when the men's volleyball team won Gold and they showed the coach who lost his family members earlier in the games.

I cried when our men's gymnastic team won a Bronze. They were so proud to have even made it that far, and they had worked so hard for it.

I cried when Lightening broke through several world records and seemed so thrilled when he made it look so breathtakingly easy (I know it's not), and they talked about his life in Jamaica.

I cried when they showed a German athlete holding up his Gold medal with a picture of his wife who died in a car accident last year.

And I thought how all these super-human were oh-so-human just like me, and yet I cheer my heart and soul out for them.

This year, as I was crying during a national anthem, I thought I would also cheer my heart and soul out for me, my family, and all the people I know who are so amazing.

Yah for all of us!

Friday, August 22, 2008

Slated for Better

Dear Mr. Rosenbaum,

I almost always agree with you and now we diverge. Here, I thought I had a soul mate, and I cannot bear the angst this has caused me. I smile pleasantly at your columns and giggle mercilessly at your descriptions, but I am no longer sure of our relationship. You have disappointed me. You were almost Colbert-like in my adoration.

I must say that you apparently do not understand puzzles and why the mind (brainiacs, I believe you called them) might obsess about these things. I knew our roads parted when you claimed that reading was a better way to spend time.


You just don't understand me, so we must part ways. I may be weak and come back occasionally, but I know it is never meant to be again.

Yours Quite Sincerely In Pain,
A prolific reader and an avid puzzle person

Wednesday, August 20, 2008


Finally. I'm back. Feeling like my old self. Out of the darkness. Away from the anger.

You'll love it.

Can't wait.

Come back soon.