Not a remote chance of bringing home Olympic gold

"I can't remember when I've done something so fun," my friend said as I opened the door. 

With that she clamored into the foyer, clutching the still cold newspapers from her driveway and her breakfast cereal, bowl and all. 

The sun had not yet come up over Buffalo Grove and the coffee was brewing. 

We were going to watch the U.S. Women's Olympic Ice Hockey Team play Team Canada, before she had to go to work. It was 6:30 stateside. I was and still am having trouble trying to figure out what time it was/is in Sochi. 

I offered to make blintzes in honor of Russia, the host country, as we prepared to cheer for our hometown girl Megan Bozek and her teammates against the Canadians, our neighbors to the north. Kimberley said not to go to the trouble with the blintzes. 

She scarfed down her oatmeal squares, I a yogurt and we rushed into the family room to watch the puck drop. 

Lots of these morning viewing parties were going on across the country. Bozek's elementary school opened its doors early so the students could watch the game together and cheer her on.

The time difference and 24-hour spoiler alerts are agonizing to us Olympic watchers. Last time I got up this early for a televised event was a Royal wedding. Didn't need any spoiler alerts for that event.

In the good old days of my writing/editing career I would throw Americas Cup viewing parties with sailing friends. Generally we were just rolling in to watch the early-morning broadcasts from Perth. 

I dazzled Kimberley with my remote control savvy, turning on the TV and finding the right HD channel on the NBC sports spectrum. I was recording the game on the DVR so my husband could watch it later. And so I could replay anything NBC didn't replay ad nauseum. 
I had no idea I had put a delay on the recording and we were actually watching the game a good 20 minutes behind its live showing.

Coffee in hands we got involved in the game. Veteran sports moms, and good friends, we were now cheering for other moms' daughters.
Bozek is actually Kimberley's neighbor and a peer of our own four daughters, who are stalking her on line from Paris and the southern cities they now live in. 

If it had been at all feasible, geographically, economically, and timely, I know Kimberley would have been in the Sochi stands. Covering an Olympics had always been a goal of mine as a sportswriter.
I met and wrote about a lot of aspiring athletes, a few who accomplished the goal and even a few Olympic medal winners in my career.

Meantime, we were sitting in the family room, chewing our nails, clutching our coffee mugs and wishing for a U.S. victory. Between periods we discussed broadcaster Bob Costas' eye infection and the "disappointing" performances of our favorites in other Olympic events. We were sad for Shaun and Shani, who were denied their third gold medals. We were trying to put it in perspective that despite NBC hyping the heck out of our heroes, there might be other athletes (even teammates) who would outperform the best athletes from the Vancouver games four years ago.
After a scoreless first period the U.S. women scored the game's first goal in the second and we were riding the rush and the caffeine buzz as the game headed into the third. Despite my protests (I am very superstitious about people changing their seats and disrupting the momentum of the game), Kimberley had to go to work. As she drove to work she listened to the game in her car. I had poured my third cup of coffee and settled in to cheer on my own.
"Why are they saying Canada has scored two goals?'' Kimberley queried from the car (I am going to assume she was parked at work and not calling and driving at the same time). 
I didn't know but I immediately grabbed the remote and saw that when fast forwarded, the U.S. was in fact down 2-1 in the third.
Crap, we had been watching behind the live action. Worse, it wasn't going to get any better. Canada rallied to win the game, 3-2.
The U.S. women will play Sweden at 6:30 a.m., Monday, in a semifinal game. Canada plays Switzerland in the other semifinal.
Kimberley will be out of town. I will most likely watch the game against Sweden alone.
We're hoping for a rematch between the U.S. and Canada in the gold medal game. We're also hoping for a better outcome.
And I am hoping to master the TV remote.

#KillTheGroundhog

Those of you who know me, know I would never really hurt an innocent animal (mice and snakes in the house, are an exception).
The Groundhog has got to go.
Stand down PETA! You are dealing with a woman who just doesn't want another six weeks of winter. A woman who wrenched her back this morning while learning to use a snow blower (because she should not be shoveling), so that she could make a much-needed haircut appointment.
Made it up and back on a handful of Advil and sat down to write this before a muscle relaxer does its magic.
I had already been thinking about the need for the big rodent's demise before the Chicagoland area got 50-plus inches of snow and started to refer to the Polar Vortex as the new state of the union.
The additional 6-8 inches that socked in our already shrinking driveway today only added to my frustration. Worst winter in memory (of course I did get to live in Florida for 18 years, where a hard frost is a reason to panic) . 
When we moved to the Midwest from Orlando 17 years ago, one of my new friends here couldn't believe it and would call me after every first snowflake to question why we moved here.
Weather aside, it has been a great relocation for our family. 
My real Florida friends have also stopped calling me between blizzards to see how the weather is up here.
That not-so-new-anymore Chicagoland friend now knows better than to rub in the weather. A hardy native, she is also willing to hunt down the groundhog.
Punxatawney (Pa.) Phil, in all his furry glory, "saw his shadow" on another gray overcast Feb. 2-day and sentenced us to six more miserable weeks of the weather that has packed an extra 15-20 pounds on a lot of my stay-at-home friends. My neighbor told me her Weight Watcher friend said she is suffering from "Polar Vortex eating." I feel her pain.
Couldn't have been the fact they woke Phil from his snug burrow and surrounded him with inquiring minds and intrusive cameras and lights that sent him down under for another six weeks?
My hairstylist and confidant pointed out that she heard the groundhog only had a 48% accuracy rate. Professional meteorologists at AccuWeather find Phil has only a 80 percent accuracy rate. NOAA National Climatic Data Center claims Phil has no prediction skills at all.
I am glad to see this is being researched and debated by finer weather watchers than I.
Several other groundhogs compete with the Pennsylvania prognosticator each year. In Washington DC they use Potomac Phil, a stuffed stand in, to make their own winter prediction. This does not surprise me.
I had to cancel my coffee group coming over for coffee and conversation this afternoon because of my back pain. Too bad they won't get to see my great haircut. Most of them were already out and about running errands and carrying on as the people around here do, despite the weather. It takes more than a few feet of snow to stop Chicagoans.
That is unless O'Hare shuts down.
My sister and 600,000 fellow Philadelphians are suffering without power right now. Might not be back up for a couple of days with all the downed trees and power lines.
A neighbor helped her exhume her car from the garage and she is hoping to get a train into the city to get a shower and be closer to her office for work tomorrow. You don't want to know what she has been texting me about the groundhog.
You know that expression let sleeping dogs… ? Next year let's let sleeping groundhogs do the same.