I'm a little worried that I mentioned babies so much, but then again I also mentioned cheese.

What a jam-packed weekend that was!  I'm still in the process of recovering, as is my roommate's car after I accidentally hit it Friday night.  No damage done, although for a second I thought I hit it hard enough to make the trunk pop open (I didn't).  Sorry, Omi.  That's what happens after a wild and crazy game of Wits 'n Wagers.  Have you ever heard of this game?  It's Trivial Pursuit meets gambling.  Everyone writes down their answers to a question and then we put the answers on a board with the odds laid out on them (3-1, 2-1, etc.) and then you place chips on the answer you think is correct, even if it's not your own.  I'm pretty terrible at it.  The questions are all something like, "What's the average amount of pizza slices American children eat in a year?" One of my friends actually wrote down the exact number, but failed to bet on her answer.  It's 46, in case you were wondering.

Saturday I went to help out at my church's ladies' Valentine's tea.  I'll admit I was kind of more excited about all the food we were preparing than the tea itself, but the actual event turned out to be so fun.  There were all these older ladies recounting the travels of their youth.  Many of them had been flight attendants for TWA and had some great stories.  The woman who was hosting the party is 90 years old!  She was sharp as a tack.  She told us about the history of her beautiful home, which she has lived in since 1958.  She and her husband made plans to build the house, but he was called up to fight in Korea (after already serving in WWII!).  So she built the house while he was gone and also gave birth to his son in the meantime.  Her husband returned 13 months later to a new house and a new baby.  What an awesome lady. 

And yesterday of course was the Superbowl.  I was a lone Steelers fan in a room full of Cheeseheads, which made things pretty exciting.  I mean, we're talking people who actually import cheddar from Wisconsin for events such as this.  I'm not really a diehard Steelers fan at all, but since my grandma the avid sports watcher had me following their run-up to the Superbowl, I figured I should go with them.  Ah well, it was a great game. What wasn't great?  Those stupid talking babies commercials.  When will they end that campaign?  I am seriously creeped out by them, but I guess I'm in the minority.  It's just me and Lindsay Lohan hating on the E-Trade babies.

Fifteen, Maybe Sixteen Things to Worry About

My pants could maybe fall down when I dive off the diving board.
My nose could maybe keep growing and never quit.
Miss Brearly could ask me to spell words like stomach and special.
(Stumick and speshul?)
I could play tag all day and always be "it."
Jay Spievack, who's fourteen feet tall, could want to fight me.
My mom and my dad--like Ted's--could want a divorce.
Miss Brearly could ask me a question about Afghanistan.
(Who's Afghanistan?)
Somebody maybe could make me ride a horse.
My mother could maybe decide that I needed more liver.
My dad could decide that I needed less TV.
Miss Brearly could say that I have to write script and stop printing.
(I'm better at printing.)
Chris could decide to stop being friends with me.

The world could maybe come to an end on next Tuesday.
The ceiling could maybe come crashing on my head.
I maybe could run out of things for me to worry about.
And then I'd have to do my homework instead.

-Judith Viorst