Every four years, the Olympics bring us sports that no one has ever heard of -- or, at least, sports that we don't really think about except during the Olympic competition. Snowboard cross. Nordic combined. Two-man luge. Skeleton. And, for a lot of people, curling.
But not in our house.
My mom is Canadian. (Tom likes to call her "Alberta" -- because that's where she's from.) When my mom was a school girl, she used to curl. So I grew up sort of thinking that curling was. . . normal. A bit obscure, sure. But normal. My mom used to explain the basics of the sport, and share The Lingo: skip, rock, house, sweep.
I wish I had a photo of my mom curling. Back when she was young, though, parents didn't snap photos of every little thing their kid did, and there apparently weren't any "team photo days." But, here's a photo of my mom in high school anyway. Just so you can imagine her throwing her rocks and sweeping her little heart out there on the cold Canadian ice!
(Her dapper date is none other than my dad. He isn't Canadian, and he's never curled. She overlooked that -- probably because he was such a keen dresser, and had a hot car.)
All that curling knowledge has come in handy for me. I don't curl. . . but Tom does!!!
He curls on a league with the Kalamazoo Curling Club. You can find him and his buddies on Friday nights at the ice rink. Throwing rocks. Sweeping. Drinking beer. (Me? I watch from time to time, but mostly I stay home and take advantage of uninterrupted knitting time.)
So, for me, curling seems more "normal" than some of the other Olympic events. Fun to watch. And, apparently, fun to do, too!