I'm loving watching the Olympics. It seems it's all I've been doing. I've not been reading the things I want to, writing the things I need to. No, all Jim and I do each night is watch the Olympics. We even eat dinner downstairs in front of the TV, something we typically do only on Friday nights.

But, like I said, I'm loving it. And I'm not even a very sports-minded person. The passion, sweat, determination, dedication, perseverance and years of training culminating in those brief moments to prove one's excellence are fascinating. And heartbreaking for those who stumble during what could have been their moment of glory.

(SORRY... THIS VIDEO LOST IN BLOG MAKEOVER)

As I watch the Olympics, I can't stop thinking of Malcolm Gladwell. No, he's not some champion athlete that you're not remembering. He's a writer. And he wrote the surprisingly interesting -- no, fascinating -- book called Outliers: The Story of Success .

In "Outliers," Gladwell posits that practice makes perfect ... in any and all pursuits. Success comes to those who work at it, regardless to a certain degree of their innate talent. Those who have the money and opportunity to work at their passion/pursuits day in and day out, for hours and hours (10,000 hours, to be exact), will indeed succeed. Mozart did it, the Beatles did it, Bill Gates did it, Michael Phelps did it.

Gladwell can explain it better than I can (obviously), so watch his interview with Anderson Cooper (I heart AC!). It's pretty interesting stuff:

My only question: How can I tally up the hours and hours I've put into writing to see how close I am to success? And do the hours I've spent thinking about writing count? And reading about writing? And dreaming about writing? Maybe if I add ALL of those hours together, maybe -- just maybe -- I'll find that I'm within just a few short hours of 10,000, of success, of hitting it big.

Maybe?

Today's question:

In an average day, what do you spend the most hours doing and is it what you think you SHOULD be doing?

My answer: Reading -- blogs, magazines, the newspaper, books. What I really should be doing is writing more ... and more ... and more.

During my recent tour of babysitting duty, I taught Bubby a few things, such as how to do a puzzle.

And that peanut butter play dough is an incredible, edible art medium. And the wonders of Baskin Robbins.

In return, Bubby taught me lots of things ... things I probably used to know but have forgotten along the way to grandmahood.

Here are a few of the lessons I learned while babysitting my Bubby:

Garbage trucks are the coolest thing in the whole entire world -- except for bunnies who live outside the bedroom window ... and bubbles.

BFFs come in a variety of shapes, sizes and colors.

A pile of books beats out a pile of toys any day of the week.

Daily creative expression is good for the soul. As are regular haircuts and impromptu jam sessions.

Several days of rain and being stuck inside the house make the sun's return all the more glorious.

Macaroni and cheese and chocolate pudding are THE very best culinary creations EVER!

And that diversions make saying "goodbye" to loved ones a little bit easier to handle.

This post is my diversion.

Today's question from the "Loaded Questions" board game:

What one thing that you do can you genuinely admit is not that cool?

I recently bought a dorky pair of sweat pants that are designed to look -- from far away -- like a pair of jeans. I would never, ever wear them in public, but they are oh-so comfortable to wear around the house. Jim and Brianna have made it clear how very UNcool my comfy "jeans" are ... but I don't care.