February is one of my favorite months. There is much to like about it. Every four years, though, I love February.
This year the focus of that love is Sochi. I love those five rings in February. They are okay when they arrive in summer, but they pale in comparison to those February rings.
I am excited that the Olympics start this week. I love the winter Olympics. The snow, the skiing, the ski jumps, the slalom, figure skating, speed skating, the snowboarding, the luge. There is so much that I love about this winter sporting event, I find it hard to contain myself.
Poor hubby is so sick of me squealing when a commercial comes on announcing it. He knows I will commandeer the remote. He will move to another room to watch his movies online. That is just how it is. I am a meek television watcher. I will sit and watch whatever hubby wants, that is, until those rings appear and that music plays and then it’s me and the television.
I cannot wait until this week when I can watch the teams march in, the pomp and circumstance, see the opening ceremonies and finally see the flame lit. It is a tradition and I am a fan of traditions.
So, while there may be better things to do with my time, I know I will ignore most of it. I will be sitting in a comfy chair and watching men and women fly through the air, or fly down a course or spin on the ice. It is all beauty and grace and talent. The little girl in me still longs to go down the luge course, or fly off a ski jump and most of all be tossed in the air over the ice to be caught and skate into glory.
In reality, this middle-aged, chunky woman will be yelling at the television when someone I like will be beaten. It’s like this every four years. Now you know how to pray for my hubby, he will have no peace until the flame is extinguished.
Thanks for stopping by. DAF