Missing the Point

So, all that searching for sleds proved to be in vain, at least for this storm, as I'm suffering from a nasty cold. We're really not that snowed in (about 6" of accumulation); I think we just wanted to be. It's 17 degrees though, and I'm not trying to go outside. I'm hiding in order to put off watching this "monumental" game between the Falcons and the Eagles. Two really predatory birds. All the pregame show is talking about is the fact that both quarterbacks are African-American. I wonder how that makes them feel. Is it meant to imply that all the ones who went before them weren't as capable? Do they take it as a compliment or as condescension? I'm not sure what is supposed to be meant by that statement, but I don't like it. I just watched the National Anthem performed by a 10-year-old boy who clearly has some sort of terminal disease. The camera caught incredibly touching shots of the color bearers and players crying as the boy sang. When he was finished, the camera followed him off the field on his father's shoulders and the announcer said, "Clearly, in those shots you saw in the eyes of the competitors nothing but determination for this game..." That's funny. All I saw was tears.

Thanks, it's great to be here

Welcome. After much hestitation and gnashing of teeth (notice I did not mention "public outcry"), I have a blog. Don't get too used to it, as I may soon be citing the aforementioned public outcry as a reason for the demise of said blog.

Went to three stores today in search of sleds in preparation for the alleged upcoming weekend storm. I thought I was planning ahead, but by the angry looks on the faces of the WalMart and Target employees, perhaps no. I can't tell you the last time I used a sled (the cafeteria tray in college did not count). I followed this mom-of-a-crying-toddler not just around Target, but then to another store. I was indescribably grateful that no one asked me how old my child was; I felt sheepish enough loading the sleds into my Corolla while the mom loaded hers into her Nissan UnVan. "Haha, yeah, these are actually for me and my boyfriend." I may look a little like an adult, but really, what have we always been taught about judging books by their covers?