At last I've come across an Olympic event that makes me want to work. I just couldn't manage to raise my eyes from the computer to the TV screen while the biathlon was taking place this morning. I didn't get any more work done than usual, but it was something different for background noise.

Sometimes I have the oldies station on while I work. Usually it's whatever CD happens to turn up in rotation. I have a system to make sure all my favorite CDs get played. It's partly by category, partly alphabetical, and partly totally whimsical. That way I never get stuck listening to the same thing twice in a row, but I always have something available that I know I'll like.

Today instead of Frank Sinatra, Sade and Cat Stevens, it was skiing and shooting in the background while I worked, with at least four commentators blabbering things that went right past me. If it had been something a little more alpine or slightly freestyle, I probably would have had to stop working and watch it. A little too Nordic for my taste, I guess.

Ever in search of a romantic movie that doesn't stink, I watched Sweet November over the last three days. I learned that lesson from watching Autumn in New York a couple of months ago. I sat and stared at that one, hating it more and more but unable to look away. I just kept hoping it would get better.

This time around I watched in short segments, and I did it at times when I was also doing other things. I didn't like the movie any better, but it was less a waste of time this way. One thing I did appreciate was the fact that Keanu had some chemistry with Charlize, because he didn't seem to have any with the camera.

And this one takes place in San Francisco, which might not be any more beautiful than New York on film, but it's closer to home and more recognizable to me. The movie makes good use of the incredible views throughout the city, so at least I could watch out for those instead of trying to figure out what these two characters could possibly see in each other. (Maybe it was just that he wasn't Richard Gere and she wasn't Winona Ryder.)

As stirring as the Russian anthem is, I expected to hear "O Canada" at the figure skating venue tonight. The Russian pair that won the gold medal are strikingly beautiful on the ice, and their story of overcoming past tragedies is moving, but come on! The Canadians totally out-skated them. It shouldn't even have been close, but it proves something about the judging in that sport. I'm not sure what - maybe that the ordinal system is hopelessly flawed, or maybe that the judges are clueless and out of touch- but it must prove something.

I guess I'm willing to entertain the possibility that I'm wrong and the judges are right. (Okay, I've entertained that idea and sent it packing.)