Besides Independence Day, there are two days in July that I have been looking forward to for the last three months- the Olympic opening ceremony and the Transportation Corp. Ball. I don’t watch much tv the rest of the year, but every two years during the Olympics I station myself in front of the tv and seldom move. Unless, of course, it’s the track events where people run for 800 miles and I get so sweaty just watching them that I move on to bigger and better things like finding snacks to eat during gymnastics. I don’t think I need discuss again my love for balls (the dresses! And uniforms! And guest speakers of very high rank! And fancy food!).

I was on the train headed to visit my family when I realized that the ball and the opening ceremony were scheduled for the very same evening. This was a huge problem.  How could I host my annual Olympic opening ceremony party AND be at a ball at the same time? What would I do? Clone myself? The only reasonable solution was to bring the tv with me to the ball. Never have I read that one shouldn’t do that, so I decided that’s what had to be done. If Christopher wanted to pretend he didn’t know the person lugging the tv as we walked through the receiving line, well, then so be it. I even came up with a speech about how being at a military ball at the same time as supporting my fellow countryman as they participated in the parade of nations was PATRIOTISM TO THE MAX. Listen. It was a 10 hour train ride so I had a lot of time on my hands for thinking.

This is the part of the story where Great Sadness and Mourning enter. (Grab your tissues.) The powers that be (I can only assume it was men heading the party planning committee) ran out of tickets for the ball so we shall not be attending. OH, THE SADNESS. If only they had realized that Christopher sat in David’s Bridal for nearly an hour while I dress shopped I’m sure they could have hunted up a ticket or two.

After I semi-recovered from the terrible turn of events, I realized that no ball meant I would be able to host my opening ceremony party from the comfort of my living room after all. As they say, there’s a silver lining to every cloud. My American flag shirt is much less glamorous than the blue dress and silver shoes I was going to wear, but at least I wouldn’t run the risk of Christopher being ashamed to be seen with me.

I get very involved during these events. I like the videos they play of athletes who grew up in great poverty but have risen above it all and achieved their dreams. Once they start playing the inspirational music and showing baby pictures, I am SOLD on that athlete. Well done, NBC. You did it again. Each year I can rely on Bob Costas saying, “He’s really going for gold this time.”

You don’t say. Aren’t they all?

No Olympic party of mine would be complete without rings of some sort. I am almost too embarrassed to put up a picture of my
failure of an idea (take the top off an Oreo! Go around the edge with Olympic colors! It will work like a charm!), but since I went through all the work of doing it I might as well document it. (My cake decorating teacher would be sad to see
these. I’m sorry, Loretta.) I like to think it’s a testament to how much I’ve grown as a person since the last Olympics that I overlooked the crumbs and didn’t throw them all out and start over. Buuuuut, in reality I was too tired and it seemed like too much work.

Here’s hoping the fate of the US Olympic team doesn’t rest on my ability to successfully frost the edges of Oreos in a perfect circle.