1. The Georgian athlete's death was extremely regrettable and sad. To come this far to achieve one's dream and have it taken away so fatally is cruel. I blame the Olympic organizers for his death as they've done nothing despite repeated warnings that the track was too fast and dangerous. Of course, the cruelest thing out of all this is that no amount of “I'm sorry” and “It's very sad and regrettable” from the Vancouver officials and IOC can resurrect Nodar Kumaritashvili. Jerks. May he rest in peace.
2. I didn't really get the Opening Ceremony's theme, if there was in fact one unifying arc somewhere in the mishmash. Some parts were very interesting and entertaining, but some were just dull. (Example of dullness: the boy flying around over a fake wheat field while some music played in the background.) BTW — I'd never heard k.d.lang sing before the Opening Ceremony, and she was awesome.
3. The cauldron failure during the Opening Ceremony was inexplicable and puzzling. Hadn't anyone tested the thing, especially given the global TV rating and the huge budget Vancouver must've given to the planners? If one more column had failed to rise, the entire thing would have had to be scrapped, not that it was a scrappable part of the ceremony. It'd be like having a romance novel with an aborted happily-ever-after.
4. Congratulations, Canada, on your first gold medal on home soil. :-) How exciting! I was hopping like mad because I really really wanted Canada to get a gold medal (or two or three). It's just frustrating to not win any gold as a host.
5. A double wow for the Korean 500m speed skaters. They're very young (21 years old) and did fantastic under the heavy pressure. May they have a great competitive career ahead of them.
6. Shaun White is not mortal. Neither gravity nor any other Newtonian Law applies to him. Just amazing.
7. I've been watching several curling competitions, and I find them strangely absorbing. RCC did a half-hour segment on the science behind curling, which I found fascinating. Do you know that when athletes scrub the ice, it makes the surface slightly warmer, which makes the stone travel farther? Also when you want the stone to curve, you put a little spin on it as you release it. And the number of spins the stone makes as it travels across the ice determines the final curve. I didn't know it was that precise. Now I have a new-found respect for curlers.
8. I was in tears at the end of Shen and Zhao's long program (figure skating pairs competition). They're my sentimental favorite the way Michelle Kwan was in ladies, and for them to make such an amazing come back and achieve their 18-year-long dream was not only incredible but just so emotional. (And of course their marriage and the obvious love they have for each other totally got my romantic side going too.) It's even more astounding given that Shen and Zhao are the octogenarians of figure skating — 31 and 36, respectively.
9. The men's competition (figure skating) judging was a disgrace. I've noticed a very obvious overscoring of Canadian pairs, but I didn't mind too much since I agreed with the results for the top five finishers. But in the men's competition, it was even more blatant and offensive. In the short program, Evan and Patrick were overmarked, while Evgeni (Plushenko a.k.a. Plushy), Johnny, Nobunari and Michal were undermarked. It's no wonder Michal imploded during the long because it was obvious his heart just wasn't in it as he was going to be screwed no matter how he did. Also the technical panel was very strict on lips but not so on flutzes. Again, it's obvious a certain someone wants a certain someone else to win — or at least score well regardless of the actual performance.

   This leads me to my biggest complaint about the figure skating competition so far: Plushy, Daisuke and Johnny were robbed. If it were up to me, I would've ranked the male skaters in the following order: Plushy, Daisuke and possibly Johnny or someone else who skated cleanly with great artistry for the bronze. I still don't understand how a skater who skates the exact same program with the exact same arm flappings and the exact same black costumes regardless of the music (Yes, I'm looking at you, Evan!) can win for being more “technically sound” than Plushy, who's never fallen on his competition jumps since Salt Lake City (if I remember correctly). To add insult to injury, Plushy used to land three quadruple jumps in competitions until his retirement three years ago; this season he did “only” two per competition.

   Evan and Plushy received the same PCS (program component score), which means their choreography, transitions / connecting steps, execution, timing, etc. were on par. But for whatever reason the judges gave Evan a higher TES (technical elements score), even though Evan cannot even attempt a single quadruple jump, much less land it. To make the matter even more distasteful, the judging panel propped up Stephane (Lambiel) by giving him a ridiculously high TES despite numerous falls and stumbles. I adore Stephane, but if he gets such a high TES for his performance, Plushy definitely should've crushed Evan with his TES, unless the judges were trying to communicate that they love rewarding technical mediocrity. (Plushy landed two quads during the short and long programs, while Evan none, and Stephane had…very poor quads.)

   American commentators claimed that the “total package” matters, meaning you should have a well-developed artistic side to your skating. Well, in that case, Daisuke should've won the gold medal as he has the most artistically pleasing program out of the top three, and he's a fantastic jumper with superb step sequences. (BTW — his TES was ridiculously low, but his PCS actually was the highest out of the three.)

   It's a supreme hypocrisy for the American commentators to suddenly praise and defend COP (code of points; the new judging system implemented after SLC) after complaining bitterly about how it makes it harder for technically incompetent American skaters to win by looking “cute” or “balletic” (COP is much more strict about wrong edges [lips and flutzes] and under-rotations). Competitive figure skating is foremost a sport — or so the ISU claimed when it shoved it into the Olympic Games — so it should reward competitors with the most technically challenging programs that are correctly executed (meaning no falls or stumbles). All of Evan's jumps, including his triple lutz triple toeloop opening combination, — except for the triple axels — are executed by ladies with more artistry a.k.a. less arm flailing and absolute disregard of the music. So we have a champion who jumps like a girl. Great. A complete regression in sport. By two decades. As a diehard fan, it is very frustrating.

   Can you imagine Shaun White dumbing down technical difficulty of his runs because you know…he needs to look “artistic” while he's competing?

   P.S. I understand that many Americans liked Evan's performance, especially those who watch figure skating every four years for the Olympics. If I'd never seen him before, maybe I would've been impressed, but I've been subjected to his repetitive skating for years now, and I don't find him in any way, shape or form worthy of being an Olympic champion. I'd rather see Johnny Weir as the Olympic champ, even though I'm not a huge fan of his either, but at least he doesn't rehash the same boring programs year after year. (Yes, I'm one of those dorky fans who not only watches every major international competition, but reads the protocols afterward to see how each skater was scored.)

   P.P.S. No, I'm not a Plushy fan. I've always been a Yagudin fan. But I can respect what Plushy's done for the sport and how technically strong and athletic he is. If you think he's an arrogant jerk for no reason, watch his competitive skating programs since the Nagano Games. He's done the kind of things that can make the current top skaters cry — or worse, leave them broken. (Literally – many of the current top contenders have fallen on quads and injured their feet, ankles, etc.) And in all three Olympic Games he's gone to, he got no less than 2nd place: silver in SLC, gold in Turin, and silver in Vancouver. This is the kind of stuff that other top skaters wet-dream about.

10. Luckily for me, TSS and NHK are planning to show the ladies' figure skating competition live. I'm rooting for Yuna Kim to win the gold. I'll be happy if any two from the following get the silver and bronze: Mao Asada, Miki Ando, Akiko Sukuzi, and Alena Leonova (although her chances are very remote, but I love watching her skate). If Canadian top contender gets overscored yet again from PCS (which has morphed into the Promote Canadians Score in Vancouver), I'll be very annoyed. And I'll be looking at the protocols closely because I don't trust the technical panel for ladies' competition.

How about you? How are you enjoying the Games? Who are you rooting for and what's your favorite sport?

Once a month, a bunch of authors get together and post excerpts from published books, contracted work or works in progress, and link to each other. You don't have to be published to participate — just an writer with an excerpt you’d like to share. For more info on how to participate, head over to the Excerpt Monday site or click on the banner above.

This is the opening to the current WIP, which is still untitled. I have no idea if this would remain or not because it's fairly heavy in narrative and contains almost no dialogue. Still, I thought I'd share with you.

Genre: romance
Setting: futuristic Paris

Mikhail Kasyanov opened the white paper bag that held three freshly baked croissants from the best bakery in Paris. He poured a cup of café au lait for himself and set a saucer and a delicate pink cup for Angel. A pair of chairs was on either side of the glass-top table in the breakfast room in their floating condo overlooking the Seine, even though he had been eating breakfast alone for seven consecutive mornings.

Any minute Angel would step inside, muttering something about the cold and whatever crappy job had made her miss their third anniversary. She'd give him a kiss, something short but affectionate enough to make his mouth soften, and toss her bag onto the spotless mahogany floor, careless of marring the waxy sheen he'd been perfecting. Then the gorgeous orchids — the exact shade of sakura in Kyoto — in the miniature crystal vase in the center of the table would catch her eye. The flowers would brighten her expression, bend her wind-chilled lips into a smile. She might even take a blossom to her nose, inhale deeply and stick it behind her ear. Then she'd sit, sip the coffee and enjoy the buttered croissant — her favorite — and tell him how she'd killed her target in a most spectacular fashion, worthy of her exorbitant rate. And he'd listen, oohing and aahing at the right moments, hold her free hand and feel a deep sense of gratitude and satisfaction at having found her and kept her for three years. Then, when she was up for it, he'd carry her to their bedroom and seduce her senseless, watch her skin flush with passion.

Mikhail saw it play out in his mind whenever he closed his eyes. It was a familiar routine now, something he'd shared with Angel countless times.

So why was there an uncomfortable cold lump in his gut, like the one he'd had decades ago when his mother had died?

Angel was nothing like his mother. Angel shot straight; he'd never seen her miss. A freelance killer of the first water, she fought dirty, tracked her prey with a precision and patience that awed him, and she was impervious to telepathy.

Nothing could've happened to her. And yet…

He caressed the velvety petals on her favorite orchids. Glorious Angel, the flower lady had called the breed all those months ago, and just like that, they'd become Angel's special flower. The warm scent of croissants teased him, but he felt no urge to touch them. Maybe he should wait just a few more minutes so they could eat together. It wasn't just the breakfast. A small velvety box in his pants pocket rested flush against his thigh. It would be uncouth to start without her.

Movements on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling wall facing the Seine caught Mikhail's attention. A gaggle of police had gathered on the riverbank. A half-circle of reporters and spectators formed around them. Several aquadroids were dragging the water.

Mikhail zoomed in on them with the two-phase nanocomputer, scanner and multi-purpose comm device embedded in his left temple and the tiny bones of his middle ear. His scouter was modified specially to have a magnifying feature. Illegal, but he hadn't gotten this far by following the rules.

The police looked impatient, but then expressions of utter impatience and/or contempt were de rigueur for Parisians when dealing with something unpleasant.

Finally the aquadroids hauled something out of the water — a pale humanoid body. A female body.

Mikhail didn't need to be on the ground to know everyone had exclaimed with horror and shock. His gaze zoomed in on the single boot still on the body.

The buckles around the ankle winked under the icy winter sun. They had an unusual design: two hearts — one made of one hundred white diamonds and the other of one hundred pink diamonds — linked and entwined with platinum. The shoe was black with a stiletto heel with intricately carved initials: A. D.

It didn't mean anything. Maybe the cobbler sold a pair just like the one Mikhail had special ordered to someone else. That lying fuck. Mikhail had paid extra to ensure that the boots would remain one of a kind. Who could trust cobblers these days? They only cared about money.

Mikhail moved his gaze to the tip of the boot, about three millimeters or so from the sole. Angel had complained about scraping it against the stairs and leaving a small scratch on it. When he'd teased her about how it was all in her head, she'd raised her foot up slowly until it stopped an inch from his face, so he'd had to acknowledge the miniscule flaw's existence. When dating a woman like Angel, discretion was often the better part of valor.

She'd put a heart-shaped ruby over the minor defect and a matching one on the other boot. So Mikhail looked hard, and tasted the sharp tang of bile at the sight of a small red gemstone about half a centimeter wide on the ebony leather.

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Somebody asked me to post a clip of my hamsters on Twitter. So here it is, the one I made right before Christmas madness, when Hero Material and I had to clean the entire apartment before our guests arrived.

FYI — Peanut is a winter white dwarf hamster aka Siberian hamster. He's the first son of Kuro and Shiro. The reason we named him Peanut is that peanuts are his favorite food in the world.

(Peanut says sorry his cage doesn't look very clean, but he blames Buttercup for it because she's a super messy hamster.)

One of my favorite places to visit in Japan is Shimonoseki. When Hero Material and I go there, we always stop by Kaikyokan. It's a fairly small aquarium, especially compared to the ones we have in Baltimore or San Diego, but it has an excellent selection of blowfish and other marine life.

Here are some clips. The quality is a little poor since I created them using my digital camera. Enjoy!

I think newsletters are fantastic. I've started one myself, and I'm still giving away A Happily Ever After of Her Own, a paranormal romance novella, to anyone who subscribes to it.

But I've been getting some that are more like spam than true newsletters. Here's how they manage to irritate me, and I don't suppose I'm alone in being annoyed:

1. I've never given explicit permission to be added to the list. Getting my email address from somewhere is not permission for you to spam me. Yes. SPAM. The word may sound harsh, but if you send unsolicited promotional email, it's spam. (And no, somebody sending you a private email once or twice does not constitute permission.)
2. I get a weekly email full of “buy this” or “buy that” that does not offer any value. Once a month is okay…maybe. Every week? No.
3. I cannot unsubscribe. I know some who mass email using the BCC field — even, God forbid, the CC field. Do not do this. Buy a newsletter service or install a script on your server that manages mass mailing lists. If I haven't given you explicit permission to add me to your list and if you send me email that I cannot unsubscribe from easily, I will report you to your ISP for abuse.

I know it's tempting to get your name out there, but really, a little common sense and courtesy will go a long way. You really don't want people associating your name with spam.

I'm talking about how I deal with my addiction reading needs given that I live overseas and books are harder to come by (and more expensive to boot!). Please go to Book Lovers Inc and join me.

Commenters will be entered into a drawing to win a copy of Devil Falls written under my contemporary romance pseudonym Angelle Trieste.