The contender

8/8/08 at 8:08 pm in Beijing brought on the dramatic beginning of the Olympic games. I missed the opening ceremony and everything else that followed over the weekend. It wasn't lack of interest; it was Shabbat and Tisha b'Av.

Nothing shakes my sense of time more than the Olympics. Every four years I mark the passing of my childhood dreams as they recede further and further from my grasp, until they're nothing but an ephemeral memory. Nothing marks the woman I've become as clearly, either. So, as I came out of the fast commemorating the destruction of the Holy Temples in Jerusalem, I switched gears to celebrate the medal sweep of the U.S. women sabre fencers. The Olympic games are always so bittersweet to me.

Every four years I'm plagued by the "could'ves" and "should'ves," and I reflect on my religious and family life. I can't help look at my life with a little regret at the success I might have continued to enjoy in my sport, if only...

If only what? I hadn't married the amazing man-of-my-dreams and had the most scrumptious kids in the world? The Olympics cause me to reevaluate my priorities every four years, and eventually I allow myself to take a little pride in the less quantifiable aspects of my life. Maybe I can't earn a gold medal in motherhood, but I can take pride in the sweet, smart, respectful, polite, and adorable little kids I've produced (Poo, poo, poo, hamza, hamza). But this year, I can also be filled with tremendous nachas for the gold medalist who was a rising star as my career was waning, and the silver and bronze medalists who arrived on the sabre scene soon after I retired.

After all, I helped pave their way.

A dear friend emailed me a link to his latest blog, which summed it up beautifully. I felt truly humbled:

Congratulations are in order for the US Women's Saber Team and their coaches and support staff. What a spectacular result. I once thought I would never see an Olympic Fencing medal for the US in my lifetime. Now, it's starting to become an expected result! Along with the current Olympians, I think another group of people are deserved some thanks: we need to acknowledge all those women who
first stepped up to the plate -- not that long ago -- and said: "Yes, we can fence saber, we want to fence saber, and you have to teach us."

At the start, these women put up with many disdainful coaches, drove or flew to many tiny tournaments, coped with bad referees, and -- at least at the beginning --struggled under not a small amount of institutional resistance from the USFA. But numerous women and their individual coaches kept training and fencing, raising the level of the weapon every year. In a short time, this small group of fencers and coaches have helped push the elite saber fencers in the US to a pinnacle of success: dominance of an Olympic event.

I don't think we can applaud the results of US Team without also acknowledging all those women (and their coaches) who fought to have woman's saber taken seriously in the US. Their individual hard work, and refusal to take "no" for an answer have been rewarded. AE

Thank you and amen.

Right around the start of the Olympics, another rising star in sabre came to visit us in Chicago: my niece.

My niece is one of the coolest, smartest, funniest, most beautiful young women I know. Nothing fills me with greater pride than the fact that she's followed my footsteps in fencing. She's far more athletic than I ever was at that age, so I'm sure she'll be awesome if she sticks with it. But I'll be happy if it brings her as much joy as it did me.

No one was more joyful about her visit than her little cousins. They smothered her with hugs and kisses, stories and silliness, the whole time she was here. We picked her up at the airport and immediately took her to...IKEA. So much for my promise to show her the sites.

We made up for it the next day after the kids' last swim lesson when we visited the Brookfield Zoo for the first time.

We caroused on the carousel, picnicked on the playground, and partied with the primates.

And as always occurs when my niece is around, a giddy good time ensued.

Before taking her leave of us, she insisted on taking the kids to the bookstore to buy them a gift. "Anything," she told them. Not anything too expensive." I whispered to my children. "Yes, ANYTHING." She insisted, overhearing my entreaties to my kids not to go overboard. My kids didn't go crazy, but were so appreciative of being given carte blanche in Borders.

"I can't thank you enough." Said my mannerful little man.

Soon after big cousin's parting, my son had to say a sad farewell to one of his best friends from school who was moving to Montreal.

My son and his friend spent the day together playing on the computer with the Webkinz we bought her. While they were engrossed in their game, we had yet another set of visitors: the inimitable Tia Mirth and my fit and trim brother-in-law. It was a short visit, but as always, wonderful and warm, despite the Tisha B'Av fast. And as always, Tia Mirth picked out the most perfect gifts ever. She came bearing cupcake silly feet and a beautiful cupcake cookbook. We're inspired!

With fanciful cupcakes on my mind, my wedding cake saga came to its denouement. Months ago I had offered my help to a friend who was throwing his son a wedding on a limited budget. He asked me to bake the wedding cake, and I reluctantly agreed, not having a clue what I was getting into. For weeks I researched the process, experimenting with recipes for cakes, frostings, and fondants, until I had a perfect combination. I found YouTube videos to fill me in on the important details, like how to stack the cake without it collapsing or leaning. I bought all of the ingredients and the pans, and even took them to the mikvah to be toiveled.

But as the day approached, I faced obstacle after obstacle. I needed to get into the synagogue kitchen days early to get the cake done before I left for my cousin's wedding in New Jersey on the same weekend. I needed basic equipment to prepare the cake. Much to my dismay, I could not get into the kitchen without the caterer's supervision and the mashgiach's watchful eye for several days. When I finally got into the kitchen, I discovered that it wasn't really a full-service kitchen; no mixers, no spatulas, no measuring cups or spoons. With one day left to bake and compile the creation, and no equipment to do so, I flew into a panic. The only day I was left to make the cake was the day I was planning on taking my kids to a play and to get myself ready for the trip.

I finally came to my senses, and took the advice of everyone to whom I had mentioned this crazy endeavor: I called a bakery and ordered a cake. I'll spend my time returning the groceries instead.

With that finally taken care of, I chose to spend my last full day in Chicago with my friend and her family. We went to Navy Pier together to the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre to see Willy Wonka. It was delightful and full of songs, and the kids were mesmerized with the fancy sets and clever lighting.

Afterwards, we had a little picnic, walked around Navy Pier ignoring pleas of "can we...", "I wanna...", and "why can't we...?" And when we'd endured enough, we went back to her house and let the kids play for hours. We cooked up a delicious Tex-Mex feast, and called it a day.

Tomorrow my mother-in-law arrives to help my husband with the kids, and I fly out to New Jersey to celebrate my little cousins nuptials. Meanwhile, another wedding will take place here without a homemade wedding cake. I'm as disappointed as I am relieved.

And tomorrow I'll be running too many last-minute errands and packing up.

But tonight I share the disappointment of the US Sabre team who got knocked out of gold medal contention by the Ukrainians.

You girls still do this old (I-coulda-been-a) contender so proud.