This February marks the second Winter Olympics I have spent away from home for college and now graduate school (all six years spent without a television). I didn't realize until today how much I missed all those winter nights huddled under blankets on the couch, watching hockey, luge, figure skating...I miss them all.
Last night was spent cursing stupid NBC.com, for they wouldn't let me watch the opening ceremonies (or any other live-streaming event. LOSERS). I needed to tell them my cable provider. Right...like I know MIT's cable provider, as well as user name and password to verify my cable-provided-for status. Baloney.
Tonight, though...I threw up my hands in disgust to the man, torrented the opening ceremony, pressed "play" and started crying when the announcer started to announce that the Olympics had now begun. I mean, we're talking crying into a jar of peanut butter and chocolate chips (technically a "hedgehog" --spoon of peanut butter with chocolate chips to mimic the spiky topology of said critter). Class act, that's what I am. But I miss the revelry, the music, the fact that the Olympics, even with all of their competition, represent this glorious and idealistic peaceful world I just want to exist.
And I miss my mom. I miss watching Kristi Yamaguchi, Nancy Kerrigan, Elvis Stojko, Oksana Baiul, Michelle Kwan, Kurt Browning...these names that have just stuck with me. As has listening to Brian Boitano and Scott Hamilton with my mom swooning in the background. I miss that. I want nothing more to be home right now on the couch, now with a dog to keep my lap warm, and watch the Olympics on a big screen TV. All....day...long. Please?