For just about the entire year of 1994, my sister and I refused to go to sleep each night until our Dad told us a story, all of which had to be set in the town of Lillehammer, Norway during the Olympics, and the main characters had to be named after us (but really they had to be us). As Jennifer Weiner wrote in a letter to Salon, “Everyone wants to believe he or she is the hero of his or her own story.” In our case, we forced our dad to make us the heroes. As kids (and now), we were obsessed with a capital “O” with the Olympics. In my little 9-year-old heart, I truly believed I would grow up to be Kim Zemescal and win gold medals all day long. Unfortunately, my mom made me quit gymnastics after my friend Lindsey fell off the high-bar and broke her arm. Thanks a lot, Lindsey. Anyway, back to Norway.