Gymnastics

For awhile there tonight, I was twelve years old again.

(Yes, I know that dates me, I don't care.)

I so wanted to be an Olympic gymnast when I was younger. I took lessons at the Y and even moved up to the intermediate level, but I was never flexible or strong enough. So I lived vicariously through other gymnastics media. Some girls read Seventeen and Tiger Beat, I read International Gymnast. While I knew about Olga and Nadia, I watched Mary Lou and Tracee and Julianne and Peter and Mitch and Bart. That generation of gymnasts were my heroes.

So when I was watching the US men tonight, I had nervous chills, because I remembered another daredevil team that dreamed big against the Chinese and Japanese teams. The Russians weren't there, but it didn't seem to matter. Jonathan Horton's composure reminded me of Peter Vidmar's rock solidness and Spring's high bar routine reminded me of another high flyer. Remember when the Gaylord flip was new and risky? Now they're doing flips and twisting release moves that I couldn't even imagine. And I thought pairs skating made me nervous...

So thanks for the memories. It was really fun while it lasted. (Now work on those pommel horse routines, okay?)

Crunch time

*thuds*

I am so tired. If I ever see another box, it will be too soon.

The project is nearing the end of line, so I'm seriously under the gun.

Unfortunately my birthday will land right before this insanity finally ends. I have no idea how I will celebrate it this year. But I will find a way.