I have tried to watch as many Olympic speed-skating events as I can manage.
To this point, 5 of the 24 medals presented in long-track have gone to the Netherlands --- including 3 golds. For the men's events, Sven Kramer won the 5000m, Mark Tuitert the 1500m. Ireen Wust, whom I mentioned in the previous post, won the women's 1500m --- something of a comeback for her, personally and professionally.
Gelukwensen!
23 February 2010
12 February 2010
Winter Olympics
This will be the first Olympics since we got the HDTV, and I'm eager to see how it will look. If it's anything like how every other sport has been, we're in for a show. The ceremonies are going to be less spectacular than the 2008 China games, but that's a given, and I'm not at all disappointed by that.
Long track speed skating is by far my favorite event in the Winter Games. I suppose you might tack this up to my Dutch heritage, with a nod to the story of "Hans Brinker, or The Silver Skates." Going back, I remember our family watching and rooting for the Netherlands, which have been dominant in the sport. The province of Friesland --- where my mother's family derives from --- particularly has historically produced some of the world's best speed skaters. The geography of the Frisian region lends itself to this level of interest and dominance. In winters when the freshwater canals freeze --- which is pretty rare (the last was in 1997) --- skating competitions called the Elfstedentocht are held.
One of the more inspiring stories of previous Olympics was Gerard van Velde, who was highly touted but didn't medal in a couple of Games. He then had difficulty adjusting to a new skate design and retired in the late '90s and became a used car salesman. He re-entered the sport, mastered the clap skate and won gold in the 1000m in 2002. In the last Games, Ireen Wust was a surprise gold medalist in the 3000m. She's fallen out of the limelight a bit in competition, and revealed that she is a lesbian in the Dutch press last fall. We'll see if she can recapture her performance like many others who bring their career best at the biggest events. Of course, I don't just cheer for the Dutch. I am American through and through. Shonie Davis looks to continue strong performances in the mid-distance, and break down some of the perceived racial barriers of the Games. The tearjerker story of U.S. speed-skater Dan Jansen was recently the subject of a short Visa ad voiced by Morgan Freeman. These are the kind of stories that make the Olympics so great --- of ordinary people persevering.
It is a bizarre circumstance, though, that medalists are so lauded for what's often such marginal victories. But that is the nature of sport. Tonight is the biggest highlight most of the athletes will experience, but it's a huge personal accomplishment just to make it that far.
(Photo (c) Genevelyn Burke, 2007, of Ilanaaq, the 2010 Vancouver Olympics emblem.)
As a stone guy, I've gotta say that picture is close to my own heart. .... Not in the sense that I have a "heart of stone" or something.... Oh well. You know what I mean.
08 February 2010
Walk Right In, Sit Right Down...
On Saturday afternoon, I was in the basement doing laundry, when a shadow came over the double-glass sliding door that leads outside to the lake.
The figure stomped his feet and opened the door. At first take, I thought it was my brother. And then, I saw very plainly that it was not. I didn't know this guy from Adam. I yelled out a quick, "Hey!" and he said, "It's OK" and kept stumbling in through the doorway toward the washer-dryer/pantry/utility room. I followed him in, and he braced against the chest freezer, then sat down on a high-chair and started taking off his boots. This was a true WTF moment. It seemed apparent that this man was five sheets to the wind, and had been out on the lake, ice-fishing. Even so, I kept a close eye on him and any movements toward his pockets. "What the h--- are you doing in here? You need to leave, NOW!" I said. He kept replying in a slurred voice, "It's OK."
"It's very not OK. I don't know you and you just walked into my house. What's going on here? Have you been drinking? Are you ice-fishing with those guys out on the lake?"
"It's OK. Ben said he'll be here in a few hours." He took off his right boot.
"Ben? Ben who? Do you live on the lake? Are you from around here? I'm offering to give you a ride home, but you can't stay here. You need to put your boot back on and get out of here."
"It's OK," he repeats. "Call whoever you need to. Call Ben."
"The only Ben I know is Ben Linus on 'LOST,' Who are you? What's your name?" I asked. He gave a garbled answer into his hoodie sweatshirt. I wasn't leaning toward calling the police, as this guy just appeared to be drunk and mistaken in whose house he was in. That said, I was pretty close to calling the police. "You need to leave my house now, go out and sit in your truck, whatever." He started putting on his boot.
I was standing in the doorway to the utility room, readying to dive or make a grab at anything I could if something did happen in the sudden movement milieu. And then, I saw someone walking up into the boat launch and asked if this was someone he was fishing with.
"Do you know this guy? With a red hat?"
"It's OK," he said again. He opened the door, and walked outside. He and the man in the red hat talked, then the latter got in a black late-model Ford 250 and drove out. Situation diffused.
We have, for the longest time, not locked the doors very often, even when away. I guess it was just a general openness. We didn't even have curtains until a couple of years ago, like many people in Holland who claim it's because they "have nothing to hide." Add in that a barking 100-pound dog, and local knowledge that this is where the constable lives is enough to keep most anybody away, who has no business here. But with Sammy gone over a year ago, we don't have a dog anymore. With what happened in Bristol last year in the Petit home invasion, this is a wake-up call. Time to start locking the doors.
And I think we may get a puppy in the spring. A big breed.
The figure stomped his feet and opened the door. At first take, I thought it was my brother. And then, I saw very plainly that it was not. I didn't know this guy from Adam. I yelled out a quick, "Hey!" and he said, "It's OK" and kept stumbling in through the doorway toward the washer-dryer/pantry/utility room. I followed him in, and he braced against the chest freezer, then sat down on a high-chair and started taking off his boots. This was a true WTF moment. It seemed apparent that this man was five sheets to the wind, and had been out on the lake, ice-fishing. Even so, I kept a close eye on him and any movements toward his pockets. "What the h--- are you doing in here? You need to leave, NOW!" I said. He kept replying in a slurred voice, "It's OK."
"It's very not OK. I don't know you and you just walked into my house. What's going on here? Have you been drinking? Are you ice-fishing with those guys out on the lake?"
"It's OK. Ben said he'll be here in a few hours." He took off his right boot.
"Ben? Ben who? Do you live on the lake? Are you from around here? I'm offering to give you a ride home, but you can't stay here. You need to put your boot back on and get out of here."
"It's OK," he repeats. "Call whoever you need to. Call Ben."
"The only Ben I know is Ben Linus on 'LOST,' Who are you? What's your name?" I asked. He gave a garbled answer into his hoodie sweatshirt. I wasn't leaning toward calling the police, as this guy just appeared to be drunk and mistaken in whose house he was in. That said, I was pretty close to calling the police. "You need to leave my house now, go out and sit in your truck, whatever." He started putting on his boot.
I was standing in the doorway to the utility room, readying to dive or make a grab at anything I could if something did happen in the sudden movement milieu. And then, I saw someone walking up into the boat launch and asked if this was someone he was fishing with.
"Do you know this guy? With a red hat?"
"It's OK," he said again. He opened the door, and walked outside. He and the man in the red hat talked, then the latter got in a black late-model Ford 250 and drove out. Situation diffused.
We have, for the longest time, not locked the doors very often, even when away. I guess it was just a general openness. We didn't even have curtains until a couple of years ago, like many people in Holland who claim it's because they "have nothing to hide." Add in that a barking 100-pound dog, and local knowledge that this is where the constable lives is enough to keep most anybody away, who has no business here. But with Sammy gone over a year ago, we don't have a dog anymore. With what happened in Bristol last year in the Petit home invasion, this is a wake-up call. Time to start locking the doors.
And I think we may get a puppy in the spring. A big breed.
04 February 2010
4 February 2010
Up until about two weeks ago, I had never changed a diaper. Never really wanted to change a diaper.
I have now changed roughly ten. They were pretty uneventful, outside of one missed-target situation. Either potty successes (that got a thumbs-up and a "Good job!") where the clean diaper went back on... or too-late situations where the little Snuggle-up-agus kept sitting down on the potty, getting up and checking the container, seemingly puzzled by the lack of pee inside. A diaper change isn't a very difficult thing to figure out. Snuggle-up-agus survived. Uncle James survived... and picked up some future embarrassing-story material.
At times doing some baby-sitting, those "Where is your mother!??" J.C. Penney commercials popped into my head. This is the terrible twos, and for all parties concerned, just surviving it is the primary objective. It's not really worth the effort to try to clean up, because beyond a certain point, you're just shoveling sh-- against the tide. There were a few tantrums, which I did not cave in to and try to purchase a temporary smile. The sooner any child learns that she is not going to get her way just because he/she is crying, angry, and throwing a fit, the better (that goes for the "he"s too). We watched "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs" about a dozen times, and the "Muppet Show" worked to both get her dancing to the introduction song and getting her to calm down for a nap. Snuggle-up-agus's schedule was shot to smithereens during these couple of weeks, and it really showed up in her naptime. Last Friday, she didn't drift off until almost 3:30 in the afternoon --- her usual time was 1 p.m. S he said, "Eyes huwwt!" "Because you need to take a nap, honey," I said. Such a fighter this one! And she's definitely got the stubborn streak from our side of the tree.
Her mum got home tonight, so that should help insofar as getting back on schedule and injecting a little normalcy.
I have now changed roughly ten. They were pretty uneventful, outside of one missed-target situation. Either potty successes (that got a thumbs-up and a "Good job!") where the clean diaper went back on... or too-late situations where the little Snuggle-up-agus kept sitting down on the potty, getting up and checking the container, seemingly puzzled by the lack of pee inside. A diaper change isn't a very difficult thing to figure out. Snuggle-up-agus survived. Uncle James survived... and picked up some future embarrassing-story material.
At times doing some baby-sitting, those "Where is your mother!??" J.C. Penney commercials popped into my head. This is the terrible twos, and for all parties concerned, just surviving it is the primary objective. It's not really worth the effort to try to clean up, because beyond a certain point, you're just shoveling sh-- against the tide. There were a few tantrums, which I did not cave in to and try to purchase a temporary smile. The sooner any child learns that she is not going to get her way just because he/she is crying, angry, and throwing a fit, the better (that goes for the "he"s too). We watched "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs" about a dozen times, and the "Muppet Show" worked to both get her dancing to the introduction song and getting her to calm down for a nap. Snuggle-up-agus's schedule was shot to smithereens during these couple of weeks, and it really showed up in her naptime. Last Friday, she didn't drift off until almost 3:30 in the afternoon --- her usual time was 1 p.m. S he said, "Eyes huwwt!" "Because you need to take a nap, honey," I said. Such a fighter this one! And she's definitely got the stubborn streak from our side of the tree.
Her mum got home tonight, so that should help insofar as getting back on schedule and injecting a little normalcy.
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