So I don't usually talk about work on this blog because I don't really associate myself with my job. It doesn't define me, man. And, I don't want to say anything here that might get me in trouble there. I do enough of that there. But we had a visit from one of the slightly higher ups today and I noticed that my boss keeps me at arm's length during those visits. I think he is terrified by what I will say. But honestly, what can I say that hasn't already been said in retail America? What kind of bitch will I bring forth that hasn't been bitched to death? And I don't want to be that person that only has the negative. There isn't much fun in that.
That being said- I have great fear for the future of retail. Not so much for the store but for the shopper. All of the work is going to be shifted on to them. First it was coupons. Less and less coupons were being offered in the Sunday paper. People had to go online, put their email address into a million and one different websites, sift through pages of worthless coupon offers like a free 8x10 at Sears to find that one $1.00 off Dove deodorant. After they find the coupon, they have to print it off at home. Have you noticed how those coupons can use a whole sheet of paper. Now you are saving 99cents. If you factor in your time, you are in the hole. Sometimes a pretty deep one, at that. I talked to a lady today that said couponing was her hobby but that she found no joy in it. That is sad.
Next is the wallet full of cards one must carry to get the deals, sales, rewards, points etc. Luckily most of them link to a phone number so I don't have to carry all these cards. I absolutely love the idea of stores knowing what I buy and when. I imagine some creepy, pasty guy sitting in a room full of monitors reviewing my six month purchases. He will see that I bought work out clothes at Sports Authority and Reeses Peanut Butter cups at Walgreens. Then he reviews my movie purchases and decides that I am some sort of weirdo that watches a lot of Disney movies while drinking Banquet Beer.
Anyway, back to things that'll get me fired.
I am not in support of these programs. I am in support of helping the consumer get a decent price in a decent amount of time. I can not be the cheerleader of up in your business store cards. It is redonk. When a person comes in for a pack of smokes and some slim jims, he does not want to go through hoops to save 49cents. He just wants to buy his shit for the price on the ad tag and be on his merry way to lung cancer and heart disease.
We have been encouraged to raise money for various charities. That is great, it really is but they are not charities that I want to support. I don't want to pay ten bucks to wear jeans to work so our store can raise X amount of dollars for whatever the case may be. I want to wear my very inexpensive khaki pants that I don't care about. I do not want to ruin the super cool trouser jeans that Ashlyn gave me for Christmas. I truly believe that my charity dollars are my charity dollars and I should not feel pressured to give in a way that does not sit right with me. Now one of these charities directly effects a person that donated blood when Ashlyn was sick so in a blood for money type of deal, I will donate. But you can bet that the check will be written out to the charity, not my store. I will get the tax benefit!
But the things that will really get me fired is my constant litany of insubordinate comments. Comments about the inconsistencies in policy and procedure. They are all petty comments about dress code, reading magazines, eating on the sales floor etc. But these type of inconsistencies lead to other greater inconsistencies. People get fed up, work doesn't get done and all of a sudden a whole lot of shit hits the fan and the good employees are left to clean it up. Literally, by the way. One afternoon, a little old lady has a biological mishap in the aisle. Bless her heart, she tried to clean it up, but it was cleaned up by an employee instead. This employee handled the situation with dignity and did all she could to help this little old lady. When the management heard about it, there was no atta girl. In fact there was no comment made. How much above and beyond does an employee go for a customer? People want to feel appreciated by the people they work with and for. They want the public to understand that they don't make the decisions and most often, are not happy about them either.
I have been trying to get fired for twelve years, but they keep putting up with me because I do a pretty decent job for them and oddly, customers like me.
I hope consumers get fed up with all the hoops that they must jump through at stores. I hope a string of angry letters head to corporate headquarters. I hope there is a trend to return to stores that value their customers even if the price is slightly higher. I hope the stores that used to put their customers and employees first will return to that practice. I hope I don't get fired in the meantime!
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Really Cool Parents
That is what the tipsy high school teacher told Jacob last night as we were leaving the Def Leppard-Poison concert.
And she is correct. We are really cool parents. Not only did we have the good sense to grow up in the best music decade (Beatles fans, shut it. Not even going to discuss it. I enjoy The Beatles very much but this is my blog. And they don't tour anymore.) ever, we had the better sense to get you listening to it from womb, on.
I learned early on the Bat Out of Hell sooths a screaming child. I would turn the bass up and that thump, thump, thump would shhsh a screaming Ashlyn. For Crying Out Loud was her favorite. It worked so well with her that I used it all on the kinder. Forget pacifiers, I gave them Meatloaf.
In their formative years, we listened to a lot of 80s New Wave. It was still popular in Germany so it was easy to find mixed CDs. Jacob could tell you the first song played on MTV before he could recite his ABC's. He could stump his seventh grade teacher with the second song ever played on MTV (Pat Benatar, You Better Run).
We took the kids to their first concert at Newton Speedway in 2007. It was Summer Jam featuring Veins of Jenna, Great White, Dokken, Ratt and Poison. The first time Hayley heard Every Rose has a Thorn live was the first time she really understood life, love and hurt. Pretty profound moment there in the stands!
Since that fateful day in 2007, there have been many more concerts. Another Summer Jam. Tesla, where we got to hobknob with the band because Danny is buddies with Troy. There was KISS in Minnesota for Danny and Jacob. They put on the full make up for that show. They saw KISS again this summer with Motley Crue. Jacob, Danny and I saw Def Leppard and Heart last year at the fair. The boys also saw Van Halen this summer. Ashlyn, Hayley and I saw Backstreet Boys last summer in Chicago. That was unreal! Of course, there is at least one Hairball show a year where we see all our favorites at once!
I think how lucky we are to be able to share this with our kids. Had my parents been able to take me to the concerts of their favorites, I think I would have seen some Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra. How amazing that would have been. But Dean was dead and Frank wasn't touring. My parents just didn't have that opportunity. I did see Barry Manilow with my mom when I was in the 6th grade. I hope I didn't act embarrassed to be with her. I got the tickets for my birthday. It was my first concert and it was pretty great.
So anyway, back to being really cool parents. I corrected the teacher last night, even after Jacob agreed with her. Danny and I, we have really cool kids. I can't quite convey the pride I have when I see them fist pumping to Pour Some Sugar on Me or swaying slowly to Every Rose has its Thorn, knowing full well who hurt Brett Micheals, but willing to ask the question again. A family of five in their band t shirts, devil horns in the air. I can't imagine it any better until...
Def Leppard slowed it down a bit and did a mix of songs including Two Steps Behind. I didn't remember it the first time I saw them, but when they started playing it this time, it became an instant favorite. A bit of the lyrics go something like
Whatever you do - I'll be two steps behind you
Wherever you go - and I'll be there to remind you
That it only takes a minute of your precious time
To turn around, I'll be two steps behind
While Joe Elliot is belting this out, Jacob is taking two steps behind his sister to get to me. There in front of ten thousand people, Joe Elliot, Brett Micheals and God, Jacob gives me a big hug and tells me he loves me.
So if all the rock and roll words are true and
life really is nothing but a good time
and You keep on shoutin', you keep on shoutin'
I wanna rock and roll all night and party everyday
then it will be as a family that we
Rise up, gather round, rock this place to the ground!
Hell yeah!
And she is correct. We are really cool parents. Not only did we have the good sense to grow up in the best music decade (Beatles fans, shut it. Not even going to discuss it. I enjoy The Beatles very much but this is my blog. And they don't tour anymore.) ever, we had the better sense to get you listening to it from womb, on.
I learned early on the Bat Out of Hell sooths a screaming child. I would turn the bass up and that thump, thump, thump would shhsh a screaming Ashlyn. For Crying Out Loud was her favorite. It worked so well with her that I used it all on the kinder. Forget pacifiers, I gave them Meatloaf.
In their formative years, we listened to a lot of 80s New Wave. It was still popular in Germany so it was easy to find mixed CDs. Jacob could tell you the first song played on MTV before he could recite his ABC's. He could stump his seventh grade teacher with the second song ever played on MTV (Pat Benatar, You Better Run).
We took the kids to their first concert at Newton Speedway in 2007. It was Summer Jam featuring Veins of Jenna, Great White, Dokken, Ratt and Poison. The first time Hayley heard Every Rose has a Thorn live was the first time she really understood life, love and hurt. Pretty profound moment there in the stands!
Since that fateful day in 2007, there have been many more concerts. Another Summer Jam. Tesla, where we got to hobknob with the band because Danny is buddies with Troy. There was KISS in Minnesota for Danny and Jacob. They put on the full make up for that show. They saw KISS again this summer with Motley Crue. Jacob, Danny and I saw Def Leppard and Heart last year at the fair. The boys also saw Van Halen this summer. Ashlyn, Hayley and I saw Backstreet Boys last summer in Chicago. That was unreal! Of course, there is at least one Hairball show a year where we see all our favorites at once!
I think how lucky we are to be able to share this with our kids. Had my parents been able to take me to the concerts of their favorites, I think I would have seen some Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra. How amazing that would have been. But Dean was dead and Frank wasn't touring. My parents just didn't have that opportunity. I did see Barry Manilow with my mom when I was in the 6th grade. I hope I didn't act embarrassed to be with her. I got the tickets for my birthday. It was my first concert and it was pretty great.
So anyway, back to being really cool parents. I corrected the teacher last night, even after Jacob agreed with her. Danny and I, we have really cool kids. I can't quite convey the pride I have when I see them fist pumping to Pour Some Sugar on Me or swaying slowly to Every Rose has its Thorn, knowing full well who hurt Brett Micheals, but willing to ask the question again. A family of five in their band t shirts, devil horns in the air. I can't imagine it any better until...
Def Leppard slowed it down a bit and did a mix of songs including Two Steps Behind. I didn't remember it the first time I saw them, but when they started playing it this time, it became an instant favorite. A bit of the lyrics go something like
Whatever you do - I'll be two steps behind you
Wherever you go - and I'll be there to remind you
That it only takes a minute of your precious time
To turn around, I'll be two steps behind
While Joe Elliot is belting this out, Jacob is taking two steps behind his sister to get to me. There in front of ten thousand people, Joe Elliot, Brett Micheals and God, Jacob gives me a big hug and tells me he loves me.
So if all the rock and roll words are true and
life really is nothing but a good time
and You keep on shoutin', you keep on shoutin'
I wanna rock and roll all night and party everyday
then it will be as a family that we
Rise up, gather round, rock this place to the ground!
Hell yeah!
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Snarky
Snarky, one of my most favorite words, is defined as crotchety or snappish. Sarcastic and irreverent are words also used to describe snarky. But are they words that I would use to describe myself?
Well, that is where it gets tricky, but I don't think of myself as crotchety. In a few years I plan to be very crotchety. I plan to be the poster child of crotchety. I plan to load my cart up with crotchety and push it slowly around the store, stopping frequently in the card aisle and in the candy aisle. In both, I will lament about the high prices of everything, will buy the generic cards that come in the mixed box and will browse for candy that hasn't been made in twenty years. I will then push my cart to the make up aisle and gasp at the vulgar colors of nail polish, forgetting that I wore those colors during my youth.
Snappish? Me? I don't think so. I flip out from time to time, but I don't think that I am ever snappish. Oh, wait, snappish is what I am right before someone continues to piss me off and I then I just move up to bitchy. Snappish is kind of like that point in a cat fight where the paw is drawn and the ears are back. I am frequently snappish.
But sarcastic? Never. I cannot think of one single moment where I have been sarcastic or irreverent. Sometimes I am so reverent that I think I will find my photo in my saints book. Ok, not my photo but a Byzantine tile likeness of me.
Anyway, back to me being snarky. I am, of course. I don't know how to not be snarky. I have tried. I can keep my thoughts to myself, but it is in my thoughts that the snarky runs wild. And sometimes they do escape out my mouth and I hurt feelings or I surprise innocent bystanders or I just sound like a bitch.
But there are the times when I am really and truly being nice. The times when I mean the kind words I say. The times when I want to be helpful and gentle and, well, not snarky. But no one seems to believe me. I suppose that's my own doing. As I meet new people, I try to keep the snarky in check, just a little, so they like me before they really know me. That's tricky, not snarky.
Like most Snarks, I have developed this habit to protect my insecurities. It's hard to get hurt if I'm the one deflecting all the insults back out into the masses. It is hard to take that good long look in the mirror if I am too busy looking at everyone else. That's a little too deep for a Thursday evening. And I am a little too realistic to buy into that particular bag of blah blah blah! Nowadays, I am snarky because I am good at it. And I don't really think I could change now. What is it that Goethe says? " "I call architecture frozen music." No, not that, though he does say that. What an odd thing to say, that's like me saying "I call Popsicles frozen kool aid" and people quoting me and shit. Anyway, Goethe says "If God had wanted me otherwise, He would have created me otherwise."
By the by, if I were a saint, which isn't to say that I won't be someday, I would like to be the patron saint of snarky people. My medal would be of me snickering...
Well, that is where it gets tricky, but I don't think of myself as crotchety. In a few years I plan to be very crotchety. I plan to be the poster child of crotchety. I plan to load my cart up with crotchety and push it slowly around the store, stopping frequently in the card aisle and in the candy aisle. In both, I will lament about the high prices of everything, will buy the generic cards that come in the mixed box and will browse for candy that hasn't been made in twenty years. I will then push my cart to the make up aisle and gasp at the vulgar colors of nail polish, forgetting that I wore those colors during my youth.
Snappish? Me? I don't think so. I flip out from time to time, but I don't think that I am ever snappish. Oh, wait, snappish is what I am right before someone continues to piss me off and I then I just move up to bitchy. Snappish is kind of like that point in a cat fight where the paw is drawn and the ears are back. I am frequently snappish.
But sarcastic? Never. I cannot think of one single moment where I have been sarcastic or irreverent. Sometimes I am so reverent that I think I will find my photo in my saints book. Ok, not my photo but a Byzantine tile likeness of me.
Anyway, back to me being snarky. I am, of course. I don't know how to not be snarky. I have tried. I can keep my thoughts to myself, but it is in my thoughts that the snarky runs wild. And sometimes they do escape out my mouth and I hurt feelings or I surprise innocent bystanders or I just sound like a bitch.
But there are the times when I am really and truly being nice. The times when I mean the kind words I say. The times when I want to be helpful and gentle and, well, not snarky. But no one seems to believe me. I suppose that's my own doing. As I meet new people, I try to keep the snarky in check, just a little, so they like me before they really know me. That's tricky, not snarky.
Like most Snarks, I have developed this habit to protect my insecurities. It's hard to get hurt if I'm the one deflecting all the insults back out into the masses. It is hard to take that good long look in the mirror if I am too busy looking at everyone else. That's a little too deep for a Thursday evening. And I am a little too realistic to buy into that particular bag of blah blah blah! Nowadays, I am snarky because I am good at it. And I don't really think I could change now. What is it that Goethe says? " "I call architecture frozen music." No, not that, though he does say that. What an odd thing to say, that's like me saying "I call Popsicles frozen kool aid" and people quoting me and shit. Anyway, Goethe says "If God had wanted me otherwise, He would have created me otherwise."
By the by, if I were a saint, which isn't to say that I won't be someday, I would like to be the patron saint of snarky people. My medal would be of me snickering...
Saturday, August 18, 2012
All's Quiet on the West Des Moines Front
It is 2116 on a Saturday night. Danny is busy doing homework. Jacob is out roaming the neighborhood with Robert. They were going to walk up to Hy Vee. I suspect he will get some cookies and a Red Bull or some awful combination like that. He is sporting new back to school clothes. He looks sharp!
Harlow is in the yard. I can hear her dog tags clink together as she dinks around. It won't be long before she is at the back door. She will sense that I am lonely for a busy house again. She will lumber around the first floor for a bit, then get tired and camp out on the landing. Every once in a while, she will come check on me. Emmitt and Elsa have been doing that as well. Checking on me, not lumbering. Cats don't lumber. Physically impossible, something to do with pride.
I made the mistake of watching graduation videos. A five song trip down memory lane for both Ashlyn and Hayley. Inevitably, I started thinking about Jacob's video, which won't be made for twenty months or so. Not that I am counting or anything like that. Because I am not counting the days until my boy leaves. In fact, I plan to enjoy all (most) of the days I have with him until he heads off to leave his impact on the world!
The girls are living off on their own. Ashlyn in an apartment. Hayley in a dorm. I won't say that they don't need me anymore, because I know they do. They need the comfort and security of home when the world gets kinda ugly. They need a sounding board. They need a cozy bed. They need hugs that they can only get from me. But at the same time, they are forging their way in the world, making decisions we know nothing about. They are astounding me with their all growed up behaviors.
I won't be melancholy for long, in fact, I am not even that melancholy. It's just that the quiet is weird.
Harlow is in the yard. I can hear her dog tags clink together as she dinks around. It won't be long before she is at the back door. She will sense that I am lonely for a busy house again. She will lumber around the first floor for a bit, then get tired and camp out on the landing. Every once in a while, she will come check on me. Emmitt and Elsa have been doing that as well. Checking on me, not lumbering. Cats don't lumber. Physically impossible, something to do with pride.
I made the mistake of watching graduation videos. A five song trip down memory lane for both Ashlyn and Hayley. Inevitably, I started thinking about Jacob's video, which won't be made for twenty months or so. Not that I am counting or anything like that. Because I am not counting the days until my boy leaves. In fact, I plan to enjoy all (most) of the days I have with him until he heads off to leave his impact on the world!
The girls are living off on their own. Ashlyn in an apartment. Hayley in a dorm. I won't say that they don't need me anymore, because I know they do. They need the comfort and security of home when the world gets kinda ugly. They need a sounding board. They need a cozy bed. They need hugs that they can only get from me. But at the same time, they are forging their way in the world, making decisions we know nothing about. They are astounding me with their all growed up behaviors.
I won't be melancholy for long, in fact, I am not even that melancholy. It's just that the quiet is weird.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Who Will Love Emmitt
He is hiding under a table right now because Harlow is barking. Poor Emmitt. He is scared and not really happy. Ashlyn left today and Hayley leaves tomorrow. All he is left with is Jacob and that is no comfort at all.
I know how he feels. Because not only did Emmitt lose his momma, but I lost my Lynnie to the bright lights of Ames. She will be busy fixing up her apartment, cheering on her Cyclones and doing all her big girl homework. I will be missing her as will Emmitt. He will probably miss her more, but not really because anyone can kind of scratch him behind the ears correctly, but not everyone can keep me in check like Ashlyn can. No one has ridiculous hard and fast rules like I do (except Jacob!). No one will remember to feed Harlow when I forget.
But don't feel sorry for us, we did this to ourselves. "The world is yours to explore and love and blah blah blah. You can do anything, go anywhere, be anyone! Seize the carp and all that crap!" We didn't think she was listening. We didn't think she would go. All that roots and wings talk is a bunch a bull when it is your daughter that has wings.
But I would not have clipped them, even if I could have. I knew this day would come again and again and again. And every time she packs up, I get sad and happy. Sad for all the obvious reasons, but happy because we did it. We watched her grow such beautiful wings. We see her fly to college and Chicago and London and beyond. And we don't forget that there was a time when things were different.
But that brings us back to the age old question, Who Will Love Emmitt?
I will love him when he bursts into a room hollering about God only knows. I will love him when he grips my neck tight like a monkey, purring in my ear. I will love him when he gets cantankerous and a tummy rub quickly escalates into a fierce bare knuckles brawl. I will.
I know how he feels. Because not only did Emmitt lose his momma, but I lost my Lynnie to the bright lights of Ames. She will be busy fixing up her apartment, cheering on her Cyclones and doing all her big girl homework. I will be missing her as will Emmitt. He will probably miss her more, but not really because anyone can kind of scratch him behind the ears correctly, but not everyone can keep me in check like Ashlyn can. No one has ridiculous hard and fast rules like I do (except Jacob!). No one will remember to feed Harlow when I forget.
But don't feel sorry for us, we did this to ourselves. "The world is yours to explore and love and blah blah blah. You can do anything, go anywhere, be anyone! Seize the carp and all that crap!" We didn't think she was listening. We didn't think she would go. All that roots and wings talk is a bunch a bull when it is your daughter that has wings.
But I would not have clipped them, even if I could have. I knew this day would come again and again and again. And every time she packs up, I get sad and happy. Sad for all the obvious reasons, but happy because we did it. We watched her grow such beautiful wings. We see her fly to college and Chicago and London and beyond. And we don't forget that there was a time when things were different.
But that brings us back to the age old question, Who Will Love Emmitt?
I will love him when he bursts into a room hollering about God only knows. I will love him when he grips my neck tight like a monkey, purring in my ear. I will love him when he gets cantankerous and a tummy rub quickly escalates into a fierce bare knuckles brawl. I will.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
What Cures Olympic Fever?
If we are friends on Facebook then you know that I have had the fever. I absolutely love the Olympics and this year has been extra special since we were just in London. There is great fun is screaming "We were there" at the television as scenes of London are shown. Ashlyn took us out to the Olympic park area to show us the stadium. There was a new mall across the way and we got to see the stadium, pool and that crazy sculpture that really has nothing to do with these games. Ashlyn feels particularly attached to these games because London was home for four months and she celebrates the success of these games with her adopted town!
It is no secret that I am just an average gal. There was never going to be an Olympic gold in my future. I didn't have any amazing talent. I certainly never had the drive. I am a fan. And I am a pretty good one at that.
When we lived in Germany, we were able to watch a lot of the 1996 Olympics on SKY TV. It was such a different perspective to watch an American Olympics being broadcast by the British. It was the first time that we saw any of the horse events or rowing. And all told with those brilliant accents and catch phrases, like brilliant. This was the first Olympics that Ashlyn and Hayley would watch. We cheered as a family.
I cannot imagine what it takes to get to the Olympics. Bob Costas and friends try to show us some of what a family must give up to help their kid reach this point, but there is no way to grasp that financial and emotional commitment that everyone makes. Danny and I were not prepared for this kind of commitment when Ashlyn and Hayley had dreams of being the first golds in pairs gymnastics. One can still feel the bitterness in the room when the subject is brought up.
This year, I am repeatedly struck by the humility of the athletes. And the joy. I have lost count the number of times that I have welled up. From the opening ceremonies to Phelps last race, it has been a bit of a ride!
The United States should be very proud of her showing this year. I love that the dream team basketball players walked in the opening ceremony. My opinion of pro basketball players has certainly changes since watching them soak up the moments! I am so freakin proud of our athletes. I just cannot get over them. How will I wait for two more and four more years?
I love that the Royals are sitting in the stands, cheering, hugging and being a part of the event. I love that Sir Paul led the stadium in a round of "All you need is love" shortly after Jessica Ennis won the gold for the heptathlon. I love that the floor sweepers at the volleyball games appear to be choreographed! I love that The Spice Girls came together to Spice Up My Life! Well done London!
You should all be very proud of the Games you put on.
But what is to become of me? What is to become of my Union Jack that flew for two weeks beneath the Stars and Stripes? What shall I watch and how shall I cheer? When will I know that Bob has said something stupid? Pro football has started, that helps. And I suppose I could actually do some of my to do list. But somehow my days seem emptier without rowing and swimming and volleyball and water polo and judo and table tennis and gymnastics and men's gymnastics and diving and discus and 100m and 200m and race walking and heptathlon and archery and handball and trampolining and dressage and skulling and steeplechase and every other event I managed to watch.
So I must wait two long years for Sochi and four much longer years for Rio...will that be enough for me to get over my loathing for Bob Costas?
It is no secret that I am just an average gal. There was never going to be an Olympic gold in my future. I didn't have any amazing talent. I certainly never had the drive. I am a fan. And I am a pretty good one at that.
When we lived in Germany, we were able to watch a lot of the 1996 Olympics on SKY TV. It was such a different perspective to watch an American Olympics being broadcast by the British. It was the first time that we saw any of the horse events or rowing. And all told with those brilliant accents and catch phrases, like brilliant. This was the first Olympics that Ashlyn and Hayley would watch. We cheered as a family.
I cannot imagine what it takes to get to the Olympics. Bob Costas and friends try to show us some of what a family must give up to help their kid reach this point, but there is no way to grasp that financial and emotional commitment that everyone makes. Danny and I were not prepared for this kind of commitment when Ashlyn and Hayley had dreams of being the first golds in pairs gymnastics. One can still feel the bitterness in the room when the subject is brought up.
This year, I am repeatedly struck by the humility of the athletes. And the joy. I have lost count the number of times that I have welled up. From the opening ceremonies to Phelps last race, it has been a bit of a ride!
The United States should be very proud of her showing this year. I love that the dream team basketball players walked in the opening ceremony. My opinion of pro basketball players has certainly changes since watching them soak up the moments! I am so freakin proud of our athletes. I just cannot get over them. How will I wait for two more and four more years?
I love that the Royals are sitting in the stands, cheering, hugging and being a part of the event. I love that Sir Paul led the stadium in a round of "All you need is love" shortly after Jessica Ennis won the gold for the heptathlon. I love that the floor sweepers at the volleyball games appear to be choreographed! I love that The Spice Girls came together to Spice Up My Life! Well done London!
You should all be very proud of the Games you put on.
But what is to become of me? What is to become of my Union Jack that flew for two weeks beneath the Stars and Stripes? What shall I watch and how shall I cheer? When will I know that Bob has said something stupid? Pro football has started, that helps. And I suppose I could actually do some of my to do list. But somehow my days seem emptier without rowing and swimming and volleyball and water polo and judo and table tennis and gymnastics and men's gymnastics and diving and discus and 100m and 200m and race walking and heptathlon and archery and handball and trampolining and dressage and skulling and steeplechase and every other event I managed to watch.
So I must wait two long years for Sochi and four much longer years for Rio...will that be enough for me to get over my loathing for Bob Costas?
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