Who doesn't love the Olympics?

If religion divides us, maybe it is sports which unites us. By us, I mean, the world. The whole 6 billion of us.

The Olympics start today and I'm finding it difficult to come up with another international event or ceremony that has lasted hundreds of years - enduring wars, deaths, bad press and boycotts. Sure, there have been changes in events and rules but overall, the idea of a worldwide sporting competition has outlived all the controversy. Even though the games are, and have been, very political, the idea of nations putting aside differences (for the most part) and really just celebrating our similarities is comforting and reassuring. Once you get past medal counts and doping scandals, isn't it kind of fun to watch people from all over the world come together for one common goal? How can you not feel just a little bit excited to watch?

I read somewhere that there will be more hours of television coverage than actual hours of competition in Beijing. As much as I like the Olympics, I am not sure I'm going to be glued to the TV for the next two weeks. But the fact that there is going to be uber-coverage, not only on TV but also online and even in newspapers and magazines, I think is also a testament to the power and continuing popularity of the Olympics. Compared to most of the junk that normally is on primetime television, I for one, welcome excessive coverage of the enduring international tradition of the Olympics. Maybe this will help us (again, the 6 billion of us) see that we are actually more alike than we'd like to believe.

But maybe I'm the only one to see it this way. On the way to see a couple of houses today, I was with the male half of the Hanson Realty Group, and we got to talking about the Olympics. Steve said he wasn't sure if he was interested or not in the Olympics - which also seems like a typical Steve response. He said he is a little turned off by the whole thing - the coverage, the testing for drugs, the taking away of medals from fallen athletes, the political/environmental problems in China - he just isn't sure he really cares. I told him I like the feel-good stories and am interested in how Beijing appears to which he said that maybe he was interested. He didn't know.

I'll tell you who I don't think will be watching, the woman who lives in one of the houses that I saw. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary ranch that had had an addition. There were two cars in the driveway and the garage door was opened. We walked up to the front door and knocked. Steve peered in the picture window next to the door and said that he saw someone inside so he knocked again. I heard someone coming out of the garage and said, "I think they just came out through the garage."
"Huh. Someone is still standing in the corner it looks like."
"Hello," says a voice from the driveway.
Steve walks down and says he is a real estate agent to show the house.
"Oh, well you have the key then?" The women is wearing shorts pulled up to her chest and with short frizzy, curly hair and big glasses circa 1970.
Steve says he does have the key and head back up to the front door as the woman drives off in her car.

We walk into to a small living room area and in the corner is a full sized, fully dressed (in all black) mannequin (with a wig of black long hair). But now don't go thinking that the poor old lady goes around talking to a mannequin...there was a sister mannequin lurking in an opposite corner. "This is interesting," Steve says as I make my way, past the purple Wiccan star symbols hanging against the window and the shelf above with bottles labeled "witches brew," to the small kitchen. From the kitchen you could walk out to a deck but to be honest, I was a little afraid what I might find so I went down a hallway passing to bedrooms and a bathroom. One bedroom was entirely wallpapered - including all the doors. The blue wallpaper with the tiny white and pink flowers seemed to contradict the decor of the rest of the place with turquoise and black furniture. At the end of the hallway was a door with sign that read: "Behind this door is the master bedroom, family room, bathroom and second kitchen." I was almost afraid to open it for fear that in any of the aforementioned areas, there might be a cauldron, a black cat or a pointy, black hat but Steve charged forward.

If you could get passed the third, headless but fully dressed, mannequin, the family room was a really great room. It had wood beams on the ceiling and was bright and roomy. Off that room was a very large master bedroom with a pink, flowery decor. There was a staircase heading to a lower level off the family room too. Down the stairs was what looked like a normal, finished basement. However, the room had been cut in half with one half a complete working kitchen included oven and dishwasher. In the other half of the room was a fireplace facing a lay-z-boy chair. Next to the chair was a contraption that looked like the lamp/sink that are normally found next to a dentist's chair. There was no sink but there was a tray about half way down the lamp with nail clippers or something on the tray. As my sister said, perhaps the second kitchen is where the witches brew is concocted. Steve's comment was, "I wonder if the city knows about this." We had to traverse back through the house to get back to the front door. I was really trying to look beyond the decor and picture the place empty. But as we walked through the first room with the mannequins, I was trying to imagine pictures of my nieces and nephews on the mantle when I saw the "piece de resistance" of the place - a framed dead bat.

As we got back in the car, we noticed the bumper sticker on the second car in the driveway. "My other ride is a broom." And, as we took our first left onto Druid Lane, I told Steve that I'm sure that is not our house.

Enjoy the Olympics.