[More Olympics material, including a long series of 'rejected' Olympic events that I made up. I think I'll gather those together in a separate post, found here.]
The total amount of fireworks being exploded in my neighborhood is kind of breathtaking.
Lord help me, Relia has discovered She-Ra.
Ok, fine, I'm kind of getting into the Tour de France. I'll admit it.
What I wouldn't give for one cool overcast day.
Cailou is what Charlie Brown would have been like if Charles Schultz had been both a) Canadian and b) addicted to prozac.
When we got in the car, Relia asked to listen to 'Babooshka' by Kate Bush. I'm counting this as a parenting win.
As we were leaving the grocery store, Felix shouted to me, "Daddy! Daddy! You forgot to get me a soft voice."
Waiting for the kids to go to bed so I can watch the opening ceremonies. (We'll let them watch the DVR version in the morning.)
The torch lighting was seriously cool.
Bob Costas is 60 years old. He is pretty much the sports reporting equivalent of Dick Clark.
Bonus suggestion for the Olympics:
1. The female gymnasts must not only be over 16, they must also *look* like they're over 16.
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