The trail to tennis

Friday afternoon, my sister Bethany dropped me off at the Bethel, CT train station. I was on my way to meet my friend Matt in our almost annual pilgrimage to the US Open. Earlier in the day, Danny told me it would be "really easy" to transfer trains on the way from Bethel to Grand Central in NYC.

After the transfer, I was thinking ... Danny was right. That wasn't bad at all. But as the stops kept coming and none of them seemed to be anything other than Connecticut towns, I started to wonder if maybe I didn't just get on the wrong train. Sure enough. I was headed 

to Bridgport, not eve close to Grand Central. I got off and waited for the NYC bound train on the other side of the tracks. Eventually I got to Grand Central and made my way to Penn Station where I was to meet Matt. The whole experience was punctuated when a homeless man vomited on my flip-flop-clad foot. Thank heaven for cleansing wipes, hand sanitizer and the death stare.

But after all that fun, Matt and I spent 12 hours + at the Billy Jean

 King National Tennis Center Friday. We saw amazing tennis and we're ready for more!

A Perfect 10 ... er .. I mean 16.2!!

I haven't spent as much time in front of the TV since I was laid up after knee surgery watching Lost for the first time. The 2008 Olympics has been pretty much addictive and I think I'll end up having to buy a new bulb for my projector by the time the games come to and end. And ... I may just have to award Michelle with a medal -- probably silver, but she still has a few days, so maybe gold -- for viewing prowess.

With the Olympics come great rushes of adrenalin watching athletes like Michael Phelps make history, a tearful moment living through the heartbreaking disappointment of Lolo Jones when the gold seemed just a hurdle away, and scoring confusion. Yep, mathematical mahem. What did they do to the Perfect 10!? You know ... the Perfect 10, as in Nadia and Marilou. I just watched several days of amazing performances, even one or two called "perfect" by some guy who seems to know what he's talking about. And then they pop up some formula for a score that potentially has no limit, but I guess if it's over 16, it's pretty amazing. Oh, pluuhhleeezz! Just give me the 10! I can figure out what a 9.75 means when I know there is a 10 to give me an upper limit! I will say this ... for 8 year olds, the little Chinese girls seem to get it ... great gymnasts AND mathematicians!

All in all, I love the Olympics and now that the gymnastics is over, I can settle down and watch without taxing my math deficient brain.