Maxed Out

"Can we visit Washington D.C., now?" asked my Perfect Partner. Despite the myriad attractions of the U.S.

Over the years, I’ve considered the Olympics many things. When I was young and naïve I found them thrilling and inspirational. My more athletic friends may have found them aspirational.

Now is the winter of our discontent, made easier, perhaps, by the long-awaited arrival of snow. The calendar says January, the year says 2009, but my psyche says November.

The year before the year before the Olympics descend on our happy mountain home has truly been one for the record books. It began with buoyant news about rising home values and just kind of degenerated from there. So many achievements, so few awards.

The children were nestled, all snug in their beds. The children are nestled, aren’t they? Good. I don’t want to be accused of starting any panic in the wide-eyed, suspended disbelief, visions of the sugarplum set.

I think now might be a good time to bear in mind the sage words of Donald Rumsfeld who displayed an uncanny grasp of the obvious when he said, “Stuff happens.” Stuff does indeed happen.

Finally, a bailout I can get behind.

In the book I haven’t written yet, The 100 Best Lines From a Century of Motion Pictures , one near the top was spoken by Sean Connery’s crusty Irish cop in Brian DePalma’s 1987 film, The Untouchables.

School days, school daze, dear old golden…. I have an unabashed bias toward schools and learning. Like most people in this part of the world, I spent most of the first 18 years of my life in school.

Zounds! The champagne’s been drunk, merry’s been made, congratulations and condolences have been expressed. Now it’s time to get down to the hard job of governing. Almost.