Welcome to austinagrodolce … My family and I garden with more intention and enthusiasm than allocated budget or overall design plan. It shows. Wildlife populations don't seem to notice our lack of cohesive design, they just like the native plants here. It seems by growing local we've thrown out a welcome mat. Occasionally, we're surprised at who (and what) shows up.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

The Olympics, Ostrich Style

I initially felt quite savvy with our plans to watch the Olympic Summer Games solely on DVR delay.  I could fast forward past the sports I am not so much engaged by watching (Greco-Roman wrestling, water polo past the one minute it takes me to air my quadrennial jokes about their head gear) and curate the Olympic experience into my own version of greatest hits.

I failed to take into account how difficult the delayed viewing was going to be as it requires dodging the ongoing spoiler effect of the Hub already knowing most outcomes.

Every day the sun rises.  Soon afterward, the Hub does likewise.  He drinks his coffee (the Hub I mean, I heard the Sun gave up caffeine years ago on doctor's advice).  While he drinks his coffee my Hub hits the interweb. Yes, unbeknownst to the world at large, each morning there is a massive news gathering effort going on as routine accompaniment to my dear Hub's coffee consumption.

The fact past that you'll need to know? My Hub is not only an inveterate news seeker but he is a born news sharer.  That man is generous with his fund of knowledge to a fault.  If he reads anything interesting online in the morning, he is going to want to turn around and tell somebody about it.  Pretty much right away.  According to him, sooner is always better than later.  (Later he might forget.)

As a result, withholding race results and medal counts is difficult for him to do if he is to simultaneously enjoy watching whatever it is he's previously read about.  Which is pretty much everything about the Olympics.  Because he knows already, and he (really really) wants me to know, too.   

He doesn't want to wait.  Waiting bad, sharing good.

The Hub especially did not enjoy waiting to news share until after I'd watched the entire qualifying round of women's gymnastics, with its interminable-to-him buzzers and shouts, gasps at near falls, spontaneously offered encouragement for arched backs and stuck landings both.  Silently enduring my sage observations about hair clips, the upswing in glitter spray use and the misfortunes of various painfully young athletes shown dissolving into tears? That did not remotely resemble his preferential cup of tea.

In fact I'd be significantly concerned about the fairness of my arbitrary declaration of How We Will Watch The Olympics if it weren't for the existence of a little sports preference viewing balancer otherwise known as professional football.

After all the pro football games I've sat through, (including commercials thank you) while the Hub watches with remote firmly in hand?  I say I safely get to call how we watch the Olympics for about the next bajillion years.  Or until we both become centenarians, at which point the Hub, if he still cares, can have all control back.    See?  Sometimes I like to share, too.  The difference is, I can wait.

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