Saturday, Apr. 12, 2003
Dear Diary:

"Your cat is leaking again," I told the spousal unit.

We were outside starting on the yard work now that the snow is disappearing, our cat Zubby basking out in the sun watching us. Even the cat was giddy with spring, purring loudly even without being petted.

For reasons known only to himself, Zubby drools slightly when he is supremely happy. This afternoon he drooled enough that the long fur on his chin turned into a sort of spiky goatee. It was pretty silly looking.

This glorious day was a balm for my poor battered soul. Last night my beloved Dordi Nordby and Team Norway lost to Team Canada in the World Curling Championship semi-finals in Winnipeg.

After a last minute reprieve, it all came down to the final rock in an extra end. I know that, like me, you were all transfixed, mesmerized by the slow slide of that circle of granite down that endless aisle of ice. With a small ker-chunk, followed by a bounce, it was all over.

You can well imagine how conflicted I was, what with my split loyalties between the team I have adopted and my homeland. By the time that game was over I was drained, I tell you, drained--a mere shell of a woman. I consoled myself with the fact that at least it was Canada.

And then ... and then ... and then this afternoon.

Wait.

I need a moment to compose myself, swallow the enormous lump in my throat, blot my stinging eyes.

Alright.

Now I can say the words out loud.

This afternoon Team USA won the Women's World Curling Championship, beating Canada. This is a major upset.

The only way I can explain the magnitude of this upset to people who aren't fans of curling (and really, that would be what, two or three lost souls, right?) is to say that this is akin to Wile E. Coyote actually catching the Roadrunner.

Needless to say, I am still reeling from the enormity of this. First my beloved Dordi Nordby and now my homeland, The True North Strong And Free, swept away in a sport that honours ice, rocks and unfortunate fashion choices. I mean, really, if EVER a sport had Canada written all over it, it is curling.

And now ... now ...

All I can say is that sometimes life can be very, very cruel.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 197.93 miles (318.5 kilometers) Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers

Going Nowhere Collaboration

.:Comments (14 so far):.

Old Drivel - New Drivel


Subscribe with Bloglines


Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


.:Cast:. .:Diaryland Notes:. .:Comments (14 so far):. .:E-mail:.
.:Adventures In Oz:.
.:12% Beer:. .:Links:. .:Host:. .:Archives:.

Cavort, cavort, my kingdom for a cavort Globe of Blogs 12 Per Cent Beer my partners in crime


A button for random, senseless, drive-by linkings:
Blogroll Me!


< ? blogs by women # >
« Bloggers over forty + ? »
<< | BlogCanada | >>
[ << ? Verbosity # >> ]
<< x Blog x Philes x >>


This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.

©2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.