Béla Károlyi!

One year, for Ashley's birthday, she asked for a very short list:
1. The Paul Mitchell haircare kit
2. A really large beach towel with elephants on the ends
3. An even larger trampoline

Ashley's list was especially good for her siblings. You see, she took one for the team in asking for the trampoline, because it was certainly a gift that all five of us could enjoy.

My favorite solo-activity on the trampoline was to put on my swimsuit from the IAC swim club and go out to the trampoline. I'd then perform certain tricks, which, in my head looked similar to Dominique Moceanu's floor and balance beam routine.

I'd say, out loud, "Now, with her floor routine, from the United States of America, Dominique Moceanu!"

I'd strike that perfect pose they have at the start of the routine, with their hands in the air, one leg out, back arched. I'd perform my routine, then land, again, just how those little gymnasts do. After landing, I'd turn and smile to all four sides of the stadium (aka my backyard).

Next, of course, I would announce my score, always above 9 but rarely a perfect 10 (obviously, let's be realistic).

After I finished my routine, I'd perform for the other countries. I'd always mess up or trip on purpose, then at the end I'd say, "Oh, only a score of 3 for Russia." or "China did not complete their beam routine." (I'm cool, I know).

Of course, the reason that I, one who is very far from being a gymnast, was so inspired to perform such routines in my Speedo was because of the Magnificent Seven. The only U.S. women's gymnastic team to win a gold medal.

What made them so great, though, was Keri Strug's finale. The one-legged hobble, but still a perfect landing made the 1996 Olympics ingrained in my brain forever.

And while Keri did not make the cut among these eight Olympic legends, her performance was undoubtedly memorable. Already, the memory of her routine has lasted much longer than the Paul Mitchell kit, the towel and the trampoline. Now that's staying power.

work it...

When in a dressing room, there are some surefire ways to tell if a girl likes what she is trying on. For one thing, every girl has a mirror face (some even have a full-body stance). The face can be made not just when she likes a potential purchase, but also when deciding whether or not it's a winner, though.

However, it holds steadfast that if she comes out of the dressing room to look in the mirror and begins to dance to the music playing in the store, she undoubtedly likes it.

When shopping with Katie this weekend, we saw it happen firsthand.

The girl, most likely in her mid- to late-twenties had been in the dressing room for quite some time. She'd emerged in outfit after outfit, modeling for her posse, which included her mom (it was definitely her mom) and potentially two aunts and a grandma (Whether they were truly blood related, it's hard to say. However, they behaved like relatives).

With each outfit, she'd make her face in the mirror, then stand and wait for her mom to tell her what to do. There were a few winners and a few losers among the bunch. However, when she walked out in a brown and white striped dress, looked in the mirror (face in effect) and smiled, I knew she was feeling the ensemble. She quickly turned to her mother and awaited her response, bright-eyed and full of hope. After her mom smiled and gave the dress her blessing, the girl turned back to the mirror. Immediately, as if on cue, she began to dance. She was feeling food. She was definitely buying it.

And, although there were other dresses among the group that I would have chosen over the interestingly striped getup, the fact that she was feeling oh-so-good, made me like it a little bit more. The fact that when she looked in the mirror, she thought "Oh ya, I'm hot. I'm going to dance in this extra-crowded store, in my tax-free dress (ya holidays) and shake it. I don't care if I don't know anyone. That's how good I feel."

And you know what? Since she felt that good, she nearly convinced me she looked that good.

Mind over matter, baby.

Girls just want to have fun

When I went to college freshman year, my new friends would joke that all of my friends from senior year were blond. I don't think I purposely discriminated against fellow brunettes, but I guess I thought that I needed to surround myself with blonds, just in case they really did have more fun.

It seems, though, that I should have been seeking out brunettes. Apparently, we're the ones who have more fun...especially on payday.

A recent study revealed that brunettes are more successful in work and love (Brunettes make about $6634 more than blonds per year). So basically, when payday rolls around, brunettes are more likely to enjoy a little shopping trip...and treat their man to a nice dinner.

Luckily, this weekend, everyone will enjoy a little extra cash, as it's a tax free holiday in Georgia. I personally find this to be a fabulous idea. I didn't realize all the things I needed, until I discovered so many of them were tax free. What an ingenious way to stimulate the economy.

When my roommate, Emily, found out it was a tax free weekend, she decided she had to take care of something she'd been putting off. It was time to buy the Kate Spade wallet she'd been eying for so long.

Unfortunately, when she arrived at the cash register, she was informed that the wallet did not qualify for the theme of the holiday: back to school basics.

Personally, I'm on Emily's side. You need a wallet at school, especially in college. I definitely think it should have been tax free. However, the Georgia government begs to disagree.

Already rung up at the register and having dreamt of it all day, she went ahead and bought it. Now, Emily and Kate Spade are happy and the economy is one step closer to revival: she just bought the luxury items we've been neglecting. (I only wish Starbucks qualified as back to school. I mean, study at Starbucks...)

I can't help but wonder if it was a blond or brunette who came up with such a wonderful holiday...or maybe it was a redhead. We can't neglect our redheaded friends. I mean, they may not have as much fun as brunettes, but as far as I can tell, they're still a pretty good time.

cars vs. crayons

I'm pretty experienced with crayons. Over the years, I've colored with the best of them-the best being in the seven to nine-year-old age range. Eight year olds are at the point where a whole lot of love still goes into each picture they make and yet, they've truly mastered staying in the lines.

This morning, though, I colored with Elizabeth, who just turned three last week. I'd really forgotten what it was like to color with such a newbie.It went like this: She chose both of our pictures and we began to color. I'd stay in the lines with my 20+ years of experience (not to brag) while she scribbled all over the entire paper. After about one minute, she'd look at my paper and decide she actually wanted mine instead. So, we'd switch. We continued down this path for quite a while, until Elizabeth decided that the papers had been exchanged enough.

It was time to start switching crayons. So, again the cycle began. I'd pick up a blue crayon and she'd pick up a green. After watching me color for a good ten seconds, she'd put the green down and take the blue from me.

I tested the consistency of the process at one point with a black crayon. After she took the original black away from me, I picked up another one.

It was just as I suspected, she took the crayon immediately and put the old black one back on the table.

I'd imagine this game could have entertained her for a long time, however, we were sadly interrupted by sirens and a loud noise hovering overhead.

Elizabeth and I soon discovered that we had front row seats to a high-speed police chase. The chase, involving over ten police officers and a helicopter ended just two streets away from our coloring extravaganza.

As I was sitting there with my crayons, watching the updates on Fox, I realized that this situation epitomizes the difference between boys are girls. Boys would have been running outside watching the cars fly by and the helicopter circle. Elizabeth and I locked the door (just in case) and went back to the crayons. Why would we worry about a car's horsepower when we could color horses?