Now THAT's a Friendship

There's no reason to share this with you - BUT - I feel you should know that 99% of the time I start blogging, I hear Doogie Howser music in my head.  And then I wonder if other blog-people hear it too.  Which then makes me think of "How I Met Your Mother," and how much I love Neil Patrick Harris.

Onward.

After a rather gloomy post last week, I thought some smiles may be necessary.

So, I'm totally flaking out and stealing an email from a friend...(and of course will add my own thoughts).

Here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship. You will see no cute little smiley faces on this ~ just the stone-cold truth.

1. When you are sad ~ I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.  (Right off the top, we have a favorite of mine - The Revenge Plot.  Hours of time spent thinking about the bad things that could accidentally happen to someone who has done you wrong.  And, in rare cases, following through on brilliant ideas.  One of my best was dousing the insides of a newly-ex-boyfriend's stereo speakers with catnip.  Man, he loved those speakers.  Man, the cat did a job on them.)

2. When you are blue ~ I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.  (Actually, I'm not much of a 'helper' when it comes to health emergencies.  I'm more likely to sidle away and  hope that you pass out and forget I was even there.  I will, however, do my best to find someone else to help you.  And when I retell the story of what happened, I will be the star.)

3 When you smile ~ I will know you are thinking of something that I would probably want to be involved in.  (Because a true friend knows the difference between a smile, a sinister smile, a leer, an I-just-farted grin, a fake smile, a trying-not-cry smile and the I-know-it's-not-appropriate-to-smile-and-I'm-trying-so-hard-not-to smile.)

4. When you are scared - I will rag on you about it every chance I get, until you're NOT. (The truth in that is sometimes making someone feel incredibly stupid about their worries is the best way to make them go away.  I'm all for that.  However, when working in reverse, please remember that I just prefer a good coddling.)

5. When you are worried - I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be, until you quit whining.  (This is actually the only time EVER that a one-upper friend is useful.  You know the kind - the friend who always has a more dramatic, more tragic, more worse story than your own. So much so that you eventually just start making tragedies up to see if she can do better?)

6. When you are confused ~ I will try to use only little words.  (Also useful if alcohol consumption peaks)

7. When you are sick - Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.
(Unless it's that 48 hour bug where you throw up a lot and lose ten pounds.  Then I want it.  Otherwise I'll be happy to leave drugs on your doorstep.  Or toast in your mailbox.)

8. When you fall ~ I will laugh at your clumsy ass, but I'll help you up.  (And apply band aids as needed - perhaps lots of them.  I will definitely wait to laugh until I'm sure you're okay.  Or at least until the crying has subsided.  But I'll definitely sit in the ER if  needed and try to pick up random doctors while you're getting swathed.  Actually (and this is irrelevant) the gal who sent me this was also the one who, after her second day of work with me, got to bandage ME up.  I had sprained both ankles and had blood pouring down my legs when I showed up in her new office and said, "Um...do we have a band aid?"  At which time she scanned my wounds and said, "Yeah, this is going to take more than a band aid so how about you just meet me in the bathroom." Great friends ever since.)

9. This is my oath .... I pledge it to the end. 'Why?' you may ask ~ because you are my friend.  (And if you are really my friend - you have seen me at my absolute worst - and you didn't run for the hills.  Either you are a total sucker or a true friend.  Or you know that eventually I'll pick myself up and laugh again and you are just waiting to hear it.)

For Susan

I shouldn't have been surprised....some people just radiate their goodness onto everyone.


Last night, I had just gotten word through the grapevine that Susan Lynn had died. I trudged off to dinner with friends putting it in the 'that sucks' compartment of my brain and planned to really think about it later.

So I sat down with my buddy - whom I know through tennis - and about the third sentence out of her mouth was, "...and then I found out that Susan Lynn died this morning...".

It was one of those moments where you should think, "Oh wow - she knew Susan, too?" but what comes instead is "Well, of course she knew Susan. Everybody did."

Susan Lynn was one of those rarities in Raleigh - as she was actually from Raleigh. Went to Ravenscroft. Went to St. Mary's. Was super active in the community. And then her life came to a numbing halt when she was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia last year.

The strange thing is - I've never actually met Susan. We crossed into many of the same circles - most notably our time in the Raleigh Jaycees - and shared many common friends. We just never actually met. And yet I feel like I knew her from all the stories of the last several months. But don't waste your worries on me - I'm fine - my sadness lies with the wishing that I had known Susan. Send your worries to those who did.

I was pulling hard for her - especially when her treatment in Texas started to turn. She'd gone to Texas last year to be part of a research program - hoping that would offer the magic she needed to beat this thing.

Last year, a benefit concert was thrown in her honor here in Raleigh. I went - thinking I'd just drop in. I wasn't very sure I'd even know anyone there. Instead it was like a reunion - people everywhere screeching out with excitement as they ran into friends they hadn't seen in years. Myself included.

And the circles it crossed - friends from the Jaycees, friends from tennis, friends from work, friends from former jobs. It was really amazing to see all these people that typically lived in separate areas of my life all gathered together because of one person. If you want to see someones character - look at their friends.

Of course they knew Susan Lynn. Everybody did.

And while that night energized the heck out of us - naive as we were to think that a simple fundraiser would be just the ticket to curing her disease - it didn't make the leukemia go away. So most of us moved onto other things, while sending a continuous string of positive vibes to Texas.

While I do feel bummed that Susan has passed, I am more saddened by what her family and close friends are going through. To have someone call a halt to treatment to spend their remaining days under Carolina Blue Skies - knowing what this means - must be heart breaking.

My hope is that they realize how many lives Susan did touch - sort of a pay-it-forward thing - as her energy worked its way through Raleigh. She gave us a common goal - to will her to good health. And now she's given us another - to pray for her family and friends to find strength when they probably thought they were all out.

Susan Lynn - you are missed.

Susan Lunsford Lynn, 43, died peacefully at her parents' home on February 9, 2011, in Raleigh, NC.

A requiem mass will be held for Susan on Friday, February 11, 2010, at 2 PM at St. George's Anglican Church, located at 1210 Dixie Trail in Raleigh, NC. The family will receive friends and family immediately following the service in the parish hall.

Susan is survived by her parents, Jean S. and Clabe W. Lynn; her sister, Chloe Lynn; and numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins.

In lieu of flowers, please make contributions in memory of Susan to either the North Carolina Chapter of Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (401 Harrison Oaks Blvd., Suite 200, Cary, NC 27513) or St. George's Anglican Church, 1210 Dixie Trail, Raleigh, NC 27607.

All-Star Review

When I threw caution to the wind ten years ago and moved to North Carolina - there was some culture shock to say the least.  After spending about eight months living with Mom & Dad, they sent me packing for the big city of Raleigh.  As a 'just outside Philadelphia' transplant, I initially spent a whole lot of time looking for the 'big' part of the 'big city'.

I did find it - and fell in love with it. 

The thing about Raleigh is that while it is one of our state's big cities (hey, it's the state capitol, after all) - it has a very small town vibe. 

It is easy to get around - and easy to get unlost if you should you find yourself in unfamiliar territory.  Traffic exists, but on a scale where it is not extremely annoying or dreadful.  And on the days when it is - it serves as a reminder to how easy most days are. 

One of my first quandaries upon moving here was why no matter where I went were complete strangers smiling at me - if not starting a full blown conversation.  It felt funny.  And stalkerish.  I wasn't used to having sales associates follow me around stores wanting to help.  I was used to them standing next to the register with a cell phone to their ear and a look in their eyes that said, 'don't you dare interrupt this phone call to my boo'.

And, of course - there is the weather.  I won't point out TOO much on that end as I know three quarters of our nation is currently under some sort of winter weather debacle (SnOMG 2011) while we sit here watching the temps climb up to the 70's.  I won't dwell too much on the fact that I came to work today sans coat while wearing a skirt, sleeveless shirt and short-sleeved cardigan.  It wouldn't be right to throw that in. 

Yes, I do love my city.  I'm wrapped up in glee for Raleigh right now because we just put on a show like no other.

When most folks think of hockey in the south - it's with a shrug and a 'oh yeah...right...'.  Unless you actually live here.  Then you know that hockey is not so much a game, but an event.  Every time. Here, hockey means arriving at the arena hours before the game for some serious tailgating before you wrap yourself up in your warm clothes to go inside.  Attendance isn't dependant on how well the team is doing - it's only dependant on whether or not you have a ticket.

And when Raleigh opens its doors to the world - we do it in style.  I'd been waiting so long for All Star Weekend to arrive - and when it finally did...it was beyond my expectations.  I somehow missed at least two of the items on my punch list (going to the actual indoor portion of Fan Fair and hitting the North Hills area where all the players were staying).

What I did spend a lot of time doing was talking to people not from here.  Mostly from California, actually.  Who seemed relatively confused at the friendliness of their Raleigh Hosts.  I heard many times about how everybody talks to everybody - confusing guests into a thinking pattern of, "Wait...do I know this person? I must know them.  No, I don't think I do.  This is weird."

And the Carolina Blue sky brought most of the activities outside - including an extended tailgating session before the Skills Challenge and the big game.  While I didn't make it to either of these, my co-worker was apparently accosted by several Canadians trying to understand what was happening.  Of course, his answer was to give them a beer and invite them to the party, which sent them further into a stymied tailspin.

Equally flustered was a visitor who watched while I offered to hold a man's tiny dog so he could escort his tot to the rest room.  The question I got was, "Wait, you don't actually know that guy?"  "No," I replied, "but how could he manage a dog and a kid in a port-o-potty?"  "Yeah," the visitor said, "But where I live, you probably only would have done that because you wanted to steal the dog."

Please.  First of all - everybody needs some spontaneous doggy kisses at some point.  And second, a Dachshund hardly counts as a dog. 

While the rest of America spent the weekend preparing for feet of incoming snow, we were making do with an imported sledding hill. 

Around the corner was a Snow Zone - where snow was being blown into a pile for kids to romp in.  Beyond that, our outdoor skating rink.  Rockefeller Center?  Who needs it?  Seems much smarter to live somewhere warm enough to sled without a jacket or ice skate without thirty two layers and a fear of the pond  cracking.

The All Star events themselves were a huge hit - including the newly conceived live player draft to determine the teams. There was the first free concert of the year - smack in the middle of town at the new amphitheatre.  And a way-out-of-the-usual-summer-schedule of Raleigh Wide Open - turning the main street into a carnival type atmosphere.

So what makes Raleigh big?  It's definitely not the size of the population.  It's not our public transportation system or our skyline (we have a lack of tall buildings).  It's certainly not our airport - which I absolutely adore due to the ease of navigation. We have a few claims to fame, but it's not like George Washington himself slept on a mountain a few miles away. 

What makes Raleigh big is its heart.  It's a city that welcomes everyone with a smile and is willing to give.  It's a city that never listens to folks who claim it can't put on an event like the All Star game.  It's a city that thrives on supporting it's own - whether it's in sports or the arts or research.

I'm not suggesting y'all pack up your things and move down here - we surely don't want a crowd.  Although I can certainly understand why you'd want to - especially if you live in one of the three dozens states having winter today.

And if you do, know that we are pretty damn proud after our recent showing. 

We'll expect you to jump right in and feel at home - and let the Raleigh-ness seep into your blood.  We'll expect you to talk to strangers and offer a helping hand to people you just met. 

But, I promise - you'll love it.

Sometimes, I'm not a people person.

I really debated writing this blog today OR just sitting on my hands in an effort to behave. 

Clearly only one of those options panned out.

I'm having that "People Annoy Me" frustration spike that comes when one or more of your coworkers grind you down into a state in which going postal seems quite possible  (no need to call the authorities....we all know I'm lazy and would rather save my energy for planning other things.  Like my birthday party.  Which will be two months from yesterday).

I've worked in some crazy places in my life. My pal, Kathy, and I spend a year or so at IBM overseeing contract administrators. These were the creme de la creme of bad employees.

You know it's going to be a bad day when you get a call first thing from a manager reporting that her admin has a baby under her desk.


Me, "A baby?"
Them, "Yes, a baby. In a car seat. Under her desk"
(Turns out her sitter was sick and she didn't want to leave the baby at home alone.  Good intentions.  Poor solution skills).

Then there were the daily phone calls from another contractor explaining why she wasn't coming to work - which never failed to include very specific descriptions about what was coming out one or more of her body cavities.  An immediate rule was established to never listen to voicemail while eating breakfast.


Yet, these folks were always positively stunned when we had to let them go.  There was simply no way to walk them through the logic of "You've missed 14 days of work this month...therefore we have to fire you." or "You have a baby.  Under your desk.  You can't stay.  Because of the baby.  Under your desk."


I suppose I should count myself lucky that I wasn't born with an ingrained sense of entitlement.  I suppose I should be proud that I don't try to cheat the system or do an average job when I could do a great one.  The problem is, when you work with someone who does possess those qualities (?), it's enough to drive you straight over the edge.

I had a mood shift this morning just as soon as I walked into our empty office and through a giant pooh colored carpet stain.  Yesterday someone dropped an entire cup of coffee on the carpet just outside the kitchen door.  The kitchen - where there are rolls and rolls of paper towels.  That could be used for cleaning up spills - such as, for example, coffee on the carpet.

When I'd arrived at work yesterday, the coffee was still pooling into the carpet.  No one cared to admit being the guilty party - I guess I can't blame them as it would also mean admitting to be too lazy to clean up after themselves.

So clearly this was going to dry into a giant, attractive stain. I suggested to our office manager that she ping the building's customer service to have the cleaning person stop in.  There is a cleaning person in the building all day, so no big deal.  I got a look that would indicate I was sporting at least two heads, if not four.

All day I listened to people dodging the mess, wondering who did it, etc.. And then finally at about 4.45pm...this appeared:

Now, you can see how wet it still is by the sopping into the paper towels.  Today, we have an attractive dried out brown stain thus solidifying our place in the 'we have a nasty office' race:

Which will be how it remains from now until eternity.  Although I did hear the office manager hint that she would probably have to get the carpets cleaned now.  Yes, because yesterday when it could have been addressed it wasn't.  And now it's sunk in there.  I'd actually thought about bringing my own carpet cleaner in today and hitting it.  But, quite frankly, I have my own actual work to do.

Just for fun - this is our cardboard box collection (well, what I could fit in the frame):

This lives behind my desk.  We do have a storage closet to keep them in - but this looks way better.

Back to this morning. 
And what about sent me over the edge. 

I'm sitting at my desk attempting to book airline tickets for one of my managers - on the actual phone with American Express.  When I hear my name taken in vain from the kitchen. 

Minutes later, one of the guys comes out of the kitchen (yes, the phone is still attached to my head) and says, "I just had to empty the K-Cup collector! (for those of you not in the know - the K-Cup coffee maker is the newest way to fill landfills with plastic that won't disintegrate)"  As the phone was still attached to my head, I gave him the Two Thumbs Up! signal.  To which he responded, "Can't you get on that?"

After he removed my foot from his ass....(oh wait, that part didn't actually happen).  What did happen was a fiery response from myself focused on the person who should 'get on that' but can't seem to make the effort.  Fortunately said person had not made her late-to-work appearance yet and I was given a high-five for pointing out the obvious.  Yay me.

The annoying thing is that I promised myself that this year, for 2011, I was not going to let myself get worked up about this stuff.  Fail.  The other annoying thing is...it's my own fault.  Every time I have to play the stand-in office manager, I do a stellar job.  Therefore, unwillingly becoming the go-to girl.

It's the worst kind of Catch 22. 

Clearly I am going to shift my resolution right back to our IBM-days motto.

Nod and Smile.
Nod and Smile.

And keep telling myself that as long as there are no babies under the desks, things are not that bad...

Use it or Lose it.

I think we all have friends that say things like, "Oh, I had five weeks of vacation last year, but never used half of them." or "I'll have to take the whole month of December off to burn through my vacation." or "I always end up with days left over, I can never seem to use them all."

You've just read three sentences that will never cross these lips.

Partly because I don't get five weeks of vacation a week (but pipedreams are real) and partly because I am a firm believer in taking a break.  I mean, I often take breaks DURING the actual workday just to make sure I never round the corner to hair pulling stress levels.  This doesn't always work.

I do think it is confusing sometimes - trying to find that line that separates your work life from your home life.  Although, as I continue towards my mid-life crisis, I'm finding it much easier to keep the two away from each other.

And I do understand that some people like to be defined by what they do for a living.  That's not me - I like to be defined by what I do WHEN I'm living.

Now, I'm no Dr. Phil.  But I'm guessing that time off is important to your brain.  Whether it is to get re-motivated, re-energized, re-focused or, most importantly, re-laxed.  I mean, we all know how they roll across the Atlantic....what with their six week vacation plans and mid-day siestas.

People laugh when I tell them I still take Spring Break.  I'd love to say I've taken one every year since college - but I haven't.  For a decade or so I worked just like most adults - came off the Christmas Holidays, counted down the days until President's Day and then aimed my sights on summer vacation.

But then I switched jobs one March and ended up with a week of nothing-to-do between leaving the old one and starting the new one. 

Here's a sign that you might need to take some more frequent time off - when the idea of time off is daunting because you have no idea HOW you will spend it or WHAT will fill up all the hours of nothingness.  So, that March, I had my first Spring Break in years - and it was fan-relaxing-tastic.

Now, I haven't been able to celebrate Spring Break every year (okay, full disclosure, there have been a few very excellent years where I went on mega-vacations for which I had to hoard my days off...worth it).  But when I have an open year (as in...not much planned...) I go for it.

This year, I'm heading out to Burbank to visit a friend of a friend who I have now forced to be my friend.  Tickets are booked.  And my anal side has started setting aside outfits in my head.  No spreadsheets just yet - should be up and running by mid-March, though.


I've also become a firm believer in stay-cations.  While I'll always be biased towards actually going somewhere - there is something very nice about waking up and realizing the biggest thing on your schedule is the move down to the couch.

Actually, I try to do this once a week.  Unsuccessfully.  But I always go into Sunday reminding myself that it's supposed to be a day of rest.  A for Effort.  F for Fail.

For fun I did a search in Google under "Why Vacations are Good for You."  Turns out there are about a gazillion articles supporting the idea.  And if it's on the net, well, you know it has to be true.

Some of the reasons I dug up:
Vacations Promote Creativity (True.  Especially if you go with others - it's always tricky to ensure everyone's happiness)
Vacations Stave Off Burnout (Definitely.  Except when you get back and have 900 emails from people who failed to read your 'out of office')
Vacations Can Keep Us Healthy (Well...if that's the case, you might not be doing it right...)
Vacations Promote Overall Wellbeing (Yes. There's nothing more confidence-building than coming back loaded with crazy trip stories)
Vacations Can Strengthen Bonds (Clearly this person has never traveled with a gaggle of girls.  Equals cat fights)
Vacations Can Help With Your Job Performance (I like to think it doesn't help my job performance to have me out of the office.  I like to think when I'm out, the place is crumbling to the ground)
Vacations Relieve Stress in Lasting Ways (Again, right after you get through the 900 emails, things seem less stressful)
 

Some people even take vacation a step further and go on their own.  No one to report to, no schedule to keep.  That's actually a little extreme for me. 
 
I have no problem making friends with strangers, but still - I think it's way better to have someone to share the stories with.  Or at least help vote on which stories will be made public.
 
My parents have actually taken their vacation level up several notches with a motorhome.  They are on the road so much that their regular/vacation days have actually flip-flopped.  Vacations are now spent at their own house doing laundry, tracking down the cat and re-stocking the RV.  It seems to work - they haven't aged a bit in years. 
 
I guess the bad news for those non-vacationing weirdos is that at the end of the year, they are going to realize that there are no awards for perfect attendance. The good news is, I'll have plenty of memories to share with them while they lick their "I work too much" wounds.
 
 

Oh, Old Man Winter...stop trying to charm the pants of this girl!

Is it a sign of aging if I have to zip back through a year's work of blogs to see if I've written one like this yet?  Or is it more of a sign of trust that you wouldn't tell me if I had.  Or maybe it's that I'm never sure if anyone is really reading this - and in that case, I can talk to myself about whatever I want no matter how many times I want.

Winter.  Will you never end?

It's not that I don't believe in saving the environment, Mr. Gore...it's just that that whole Global Warming thing seems to be taking some time off.

Not even one month into the official winter season and we are just wrapping up storm numero seis  (that would be six for those of you less close to our Spanish speaking neighbors).

Many of you reading this reside in the northern part of the country and are wondering what the heck I'm talking about.  Many of you have had snow on your ground since late August. 

That's not how we roll here. 

So, yes, it does get right under my cold-weather-cracked-skin when I speak to the Nanooks, trying to express my tale of snow lock down woes and hear responses such as:

"Wait.  You're home because there's a dusting?" or
"How many days off?  For two inches?!" or
"You share a shovel with five of your neighbors?"

Or, one of my favorites - when trying to explain to my Boston colleagues why I would be late for training due to the airport being shut down...
"Four inches?  or Forty Inches?"
"Four inches"
"Forty?"
"Four."
"I don't understand.  How is your airport closed for four inches?"

Let me give you some examples of why we tend to hunker down in inclement weather.  Or weather.  We really don't call it inclement.  We say, "Looks like some weather's coming." 

Sorry, no deliveries on eggs, milk or bread today....

Rain, sleet, snow or shine...except for the sleet.  Or snow...

New request ~ please limit emergencies to dry days over 40 degrees...

This is what covered EVERY thing on Tuesday morning.  Now, I'll give you the 'driving in the snow isn't that hard' argument (even though I hate it and around here, it's not a great idea).  But, driving on this?  I'd rather put Zip Locs on my feet and try to navigate a field of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.  Spread.

And here's our ammunition.  Watch out primary roads...we're coming to get you.  Secondary Roads?  Stand down - eventually the sun will come back out and have it's way with you...

I really have nothing to say about this one.  It's just a picture from the local news site.  That might prove that thing about rednecks living here.

So yeah - I hear you.  Where you live, you see a snow storm as nothing more than a reason to preheat your car before heading out.  I get it - you live in the land of blizzards and blusters.  Good on you.  You and your Eskimo driving skills rock my world. 

But there's no reason to make me feel badly for living in a state where snow plows are at a minimum (ps - we don't 'plow' our streets here - we scrape them.  Just like we cut off lights.  We cut off our lights and we scrape our roads.  Not only do we not drive in the winter, we have our own secret language).

And you know what else? 

At the end of February, I'll be worrying about how I look in shorts. I win.

Is Cheerleading a Sport? Discuss.

I know, I know - first blog of the year...should be something super inspirational mapping out the next twelve months of Gandhi-like activities.  OR, we could have a debate. 

Okay - just to appease anyone already feeling shafted.  The next twelve months will be much the same as the last twelve months, with a few exceptions.

* I will turn 40 in March.  I'm already planning my own surprise party.  Details to follow.
* I'm going to go to Burbank in April.  California.  Because when Denise invited me, she probably never thought I'd say yes.  Sucker.
* No trip to the Baltics this year - the folks are going to Alsaka (spelled wrong in honor of my pal, Jerri) and I will be on on guest pet duty.  Or doody.

Other than that - I suspect life to remain pretty much status quo as I hit a lot of tennis balls, hang out with friends and pretend Prince Charming is waiting right around the corner. 

There - now let's get back to the important stuff.

Let's face it - over the last decade or so, there have been some changes in the world of athletics.  Extreme Sports are everywhere.  Kick Boxing is spiking in popularity.  And Cheerleading has gone from being a gaggle of spirit ball toting barbies to being a competitive-I-really-meant-to-be-a-gymnast-athon.

My question - raised again last week by a debate that crossed state lines - is...when is something really a sport and when is it just an activity for athletes?

I've always claimed the existence of what I call "Dumbed Down Sports."  Synchronized Swimming...Ice Dancing...Golf...Nascar...

Now, before you come back at me with darts of poison (did I mention Darts?), I'm now saying that the people who participate in these DDS's aren't athletic.  I have no doubt that a guy who spends the better part of the day driving in a circle at 150 plus miles per hour has to be in excellent shape.  Not so much for the driving in a circle part but for the part where he doesn't want to crash, pee or starve.

And I've stood on ice skates before - it's hard.  I get it.  I'm just saying that there a lot less sport in dancing together than there is in throwing your partner through the air, asking her to do a bunch of twirls and then land on her feet.

I think part of the problem is the Olympics. If you know me at all you know I have a severe case of OCD when it comes to the Olympics.  I plan my TV viewing months in advance - scoping out which channel is showing which event and when.  My DVR becomes a ballet of sorts (ballet...is that a sport?) as I schedule recordings to stop and start within milliseconds of each other. 

However, the IOC takes the liberty of dropping and adding sports willy nilly.  Without contacting me.  And some of there choices have left me a bit perplexed.  Most obviously, Curling.  Defined as "a sport in which players slide stones across a sheet of ice towards a target area."  Well, hell, you may as well throw in shuffleboard as well - venues could be the local pubs, thus saving money and providing built in concession stands.

As it turns out - the IOC picks participating sports not based on the athletics of it - but on whether or not it is currently popular and well-practiced across the world.  Well, thanks IOC, for confirming my belief that the existence of Dumbed Down Sports is real.  I mean, that pretty much says Olympic Events are based on popularity, not difficulty level.

Some of the list of sports recognized by the IOC, but not contested in the games?
Air sports (um, like what?  Parachute raises?  I don't think that would be a sport)

Bandy (Huh?)
Billiard sports (Again...shooting pool...DDS)
Bridge (Okay, really?)
Chess (SERIOUSLY.  NOT A SPORT)
Golf (will be part of the 2016 program)
Lifesaving (Important.  Though not a sport.  Though I would curious as to how the winner is determined.)
Pelota Vasca (I think I dated him)
Rugby (sevens will be part of the 2016 program)
Tug of war (Would LOVE to see this on TV)
Underwater sports (Again...would love to see how the winner is determined.  I'm assuming it's the one who doesn't drown)

Okay, let's go to the dictionary...Webster please:
Sport: An active diversion requiring physical exertion and competition.

I'm not going to lie.  When I read this my immediate thought was - wait, where's the part about a winner and a loser?  And jumps of triumph?  And tears of despair?   And broken records and new prodigies who will change the face of athletics?  What about rivalries and salary caps and play offs? Where do the training staffs, entourages and agents fit in? 

Because, when I read that definition - it really made 'sport' seem like a very basic thing.  It takes out all the hoopla and craziness and fanatical behavior.  Yes, competition is required - but there are certainly no guidelines on what makes it competitive - whether it's a judge, a timer, a finish line - all kosher.

It almost points out that maybe, I've over thunk sports. 
Of course, that's doubtful. 
I rarely over think anything. 
As proven by the previous 849 words.

But if sports are really defined as diversions (involving physical exertion and competition)...then maybe I'm the one that's wrong. 

And, maybe cheerleading is a sport, after all?  That hurts.

And yet...in this picture...that popped up when I typed "Sport" into Google Images...I see no spirit balls.