The Agony And The Ecstasy: Our Post-Olympics Depression

As Little Man and I took in the Olympics closing ceremony last night and the fake snow fell on the upturned faces of the amazing athletes and Neil Young's mournful harmonica belted out "Long May You Run," he turned to me all sad and dejected-like and wailed, "What am I going to watch on TV, now?"

Little Man, I share your pain. For what is television without the Olympics? Mostly a numbing void of stupid "reality" shows and "entertainment news." Car wrecks of lives that we can't seem to pull ourselves away from no matter how hard we try.

Post-Olympic TV is a depressing prospect indeed after vicariously tasting the glory and the agony of an eclectic bunch of men and women who've single-mindedly devoted their young lives to being the best that they can possibly be.

I have to say that the sport I'm going to miss the most is curling. Watching this charmingly-quirky, old-fashioned game steadies me after all the gasping and holding of breath that I do during the ski slope and ice rink antics. Curling is the perfect yin to the other sports' yang.

Big Man's spot-on curling commentary never fails to make me laugh:

"The stone is sliding, Jim. It's sliding.

The ladies are scrubbing. They're scrubbing.

She's releasing the stone now, Jim. She's releasing.

And the ladies are scrubbing. They're scrubbing.

I tell you Jim, if they don't get a medal out of this, they should consider opening up a Mighty Maids franchise. These girls are good scrubbers!"

Here's Little Man's commentary while watching the Swedish curlers:

"There's the hot one!"

What I'd like to know is, what the hell are they saying to each other while all that sliding and scrubbing is going on? It's like some secret, made-up language that only twins can understand.

But now, dear Olympians, our television stands dark in our living room. And I imagine you today in your Olympic Village, packing your bags, saying your tearful farewells to your team mates and rivals, perhaps throwing a few good-natured snowballs.

But before I say goodbye to you, I'd like to say merci.

For showing us, over these past few weeks, that behind your excruciatingly beautiful grace and breathtaking skill is hard work, patience, pain, sacrifice and loss -- of medals and, sadly, even precious life.

Thank you for allowing us to soar with you over the snow-covered peaks then gently setting us down, leaving us inspired to, as corny as this sounds, achieve our own personal bests. Because the lives of we mere mortals are often just as challenging as an Olympic athlete's --along with the joy of being human, there's hard work, pain and heartbreak.

And one last thing, dear gods and goddesses of Olympus. Please help me stay away from reality TV!