Winter olympics, penguin style.

My niece, nephew, and brother-in-law participated in the Penguin Plunge in New London on Sunday. They raised money for a good cause, but they also jumped into a freezing Long Island Sound, a body of water I don’t think I’d jump into even on the hottest of days. I just stood on the shoreline in a winter coat, hat, and gloves, whining when a tiny wave hit my sneaker as I tried to capture the event on film. Frankie even went in again after the Plunge was all done. He didn’t get very wet on his first time in the water; as a matter of fact, his shirt was mostly dry and there wasn’t a drop of water on his hair. His father and sister went in all the way, though, so to make up for it (prove himself, maybe?) he re-plunged. That took guts, and his team was proud of him.


My youngest niece didn't plunge, but she did show us her fancy new smile, complete with cheesy-pouf crumbs.
She’s seven now, so she is at that age where she’s losing all of her baby teeth and getting her adult ones. I remember losing a tooth in a penne noodle at a church function. I also remember not losing a tooth and the dentist couldn’t figure it out (granted this is the very same dentist who still doesn’t wear gloves to look in your mouth, but that’s another story). The adult tooth had pushed up and split the baby tooth in half, but both halves were still attached and wouldn’t fall out. He eventually pulled them, thankfully. And to think, at one point I actually wanted to be a dentist.


On Sunday we also got to see Elvis and Bonnie, the newest members of my sister’s family’s household. Elvis is a Peruvian long-haired guinea pig that they got for $20, cage and all, from the Humane Society (support your local shelters!) and Bonnie is just a regular one, but a baby. Elvis’ hair is out of control. Apparently my sister and Maddy brush his hair, give him shampoos, and blow dry his hair. That's more than any of them do with their own hair, I'm sure - but we are all suckers for our pets in this family. There's not anything we wouldn't do for them. We do like each other, too, though, so that's a good thing.

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And then, of course, this weekend there were the Olympics. Vancouver 2010, some of the best Olympics I’ve seen. Who doesn’t get inspired by Shaun White, Apolo Anton Ohno, Joannie Rochette, Maria Reisch, Aksel Lund Svindal, and the Canadian hockey teams? You’d be a cold and callous person to not be moved by some of these triumphs.

However, as the games come to a close (they’re still not done for us! We have three more days of Olympics coverage to watch, thanks to the modern marvel of DVR), I can’t help but find my sentimentality fading a bit. I wrote a post, and another post, and even a bit of another post, about the inspiration of the Olympics, the athletes, and the Olympic spirit that I wished I could live each day, and while none of those feelings have really changed, I do have to add a dose of reality to my previous outpourings. Olympic athletes are inspiring because they can focus on one goal and see it through to the end. There were fifty Nordic skiers on Sunday competing in the 50km event, and only three can win. Some of them must know that they won’t be medal winners, or even medal contenders, but they’re out there anyway, trying their best, and trying to best their best. That’s what I find inspirational about Olympic athletes. But I also know that they’re real people. Some of them use and abuse drugs, some of them don’t take the games that seriously, some of them want to celebrate their victory with a little abandon just like any normal human being would. Some of them don’t look so great in their spandex unitards, some of them have to win so that they can make due on their many endorsement deals, some of them try to sabotage their competitors. Because the world of the Olympics is a fantastic and energizing world, but it’s also the real world, a mix of positives and negatives. And maybe it’s the mostly other-worldly qualities that make me shut my life down for two weeks every four years, but I certainly do appreciate all the this-worldly qualities that these games highlight. Thanks, Bob Costas, for helping me through yet another Olympic emotional roller-coaster. Can't wait for London.