Thanks to the Games of the 28th Olympiad in Athens, Greece, my little evening routine is in ruins.
Normally I put the baby to bed at 8 p.m., an Olympic feat in itself, make a hot chocolate or grab a sugar-free Popsicle, and plop on the couch to watch the Oprah show that I taped that afternoon.
When it comes to the Olympics I’m a dud, a yawner, a “haven’t-we-seen-him-tumble-before?” kind of spectator. So imagine my horror when I sat down one evening last week and discovered that my Oprah time slot had been taken up by men swimming. Men swimming. The nerve.
Great sportsmen and women they may be, but give me just the dramatic highlights. The last 1/12th of a second will do.
My husband, Eric, doesn’t understand this. He travels for his job most of the month but kindly came home to commandeer the TV for the duration of the Olympics.
I was trying to tell Eric about my own Olympics – paying bills, taking care of Wendy, working and arranging another visit to the zoo – when he screamed “YEEEEEESSSS!” really, really loud. Some swimmer had won another gold.
“This guy eats 30,000 calories a day, hon. He burns off 10,000 at each meal.
“Yep. Coulda been me. I could have been a good swimmer (fencer, weightlifter, high jumper, fill in the blank). I had potential.”
I felt it then. My eyes rolling up into my head accompanied by a huge sigh.
If eye-rolling were an Olympic sport I’d be the gold – no, the platinum, winner. I don’t know what Bob Costas or Elfi Schlegel would say about that but, looking at my husband, I can imagine:
“Now we’re going live to the most difficult of partner sports, Elfi, the ‘eye-rolling without being caught’ event. Harper is a champ but can she do it here on her couch in Marysville?”
“Yeah, that’s what the world wants to know, Bob. She’s ready. Her husband has given her the useless information, fallen silent, then set her up well with the old ‘could have been a contender’ routine. It’s the one way we know for sure that will get Harper into the eye-rolling state.”
“She’s ready, Elfi. Here we go. He’s said he could have been a high jumper. Unlikely, since he’s, well, not long and lithe. Slowly, slowly Harper turns her head to the left toward her husband after his announcement, eyeballs beginning to roll up.”
“Is it a complete eyeball under the lid or will he catch her and she’ll be out of the event, Bob?”
“It’s difficult to know. Folks at home really don’t know what kind of training this takes, Elfi: the exercise, the diet, the years of waiting and watching and hoping. Here she goes, slowly she turns.”
In whispered tones: “Yes, yes, Bob. Oh, no – he saw her. She’s caught. Oh, my. Oh.”
“That’ll knock points off surely. The judges won’t like that. But wait … what’s this? She’s giving it gusto, the most difficult combination, an eye-rolling-smile combo, and look, she’s giving it everything, she’s adding to this miraculous routine … she’s leaning over to, yes, peck him on the cheek.”
The crescendo builds.
“Unbelievable, Bob! People wondered after her last marriage. Could she do it? Could she pull it off? An eye-rolling-smile combo with a peck on the cheek. Oh, my.”
“But wait, she’s not done. Harper is up, she’s up and she’s going for the gold, she’s doing it, she’s off the couch. She’s getting him a Coke! Yes, Harper, the international champion of wifely events.”
“Not only has this woman had a full day of being a mother, going to work and making dinner, but she’s conquered this unbelievable event: eye-rolling, smiling, and just when we thought it was too much for her, a kiss and a fantastic run for a soda.
“What a day for Harper. She can’t wipe the smile off her face. And look at her husband. On his feet, arms in the air. He just can’t quite believe it. either”
“She has done it. She’s won the gold!”
What’s that, hon? You could have been a gymnast?
Reporter Christina Harper: 425-339-3491 or harper@heraldnet.com.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
