Summer sweet and sunburned feet over here in southeastern MA, taking a couple days off before our nation’s independence day, when we celebrate life, liberty and the pursuit of 15 other countries who can play soccer better than we can…Nevermind our global ranking in math and science and the fact that I heard NASA’s newest space vehicle is shaped like a saucer. “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, boys… Them aliens are flying circles around us!” I’m picturing our astronauts walking around and around the ship trying to find the door.
No, but sitting on a shore in Fairhaven yesterday, keeping an eye on the rising ocean and another on the kids and none, having run out of eyes, on my soon-to-be-burned feet, I have to admit this country is still a great place to be, Belgian ball control notwithstanding. I watched the last world cup game for the U.S. with some coworkers at a bar near Alewife, and I thought it was a pretty pathetic excuse for a patriotic gathering until we nearly scored to steal the game at the end of regulation and the entire bar and restaurant, including people I didn’t know were really watching, jumped up and yelled with excitement. Our team finally came to life after we scored a goal late in the overtime periods, and it was fun to see the British announcers uttering in disbelief, “Could the Americans really be coming back?” Ahh, how history repeats itself. France will need our help against Germany tomorrow. Ba-doom-splash. Not funny?
At work I’m angling for a couple open vice president positions on the international business development front. I haven’t quite figured out the difference between the two job descriptions, and I have the nagging suspicion that they are not elected positions… nevertheless I’ve started a grassroots campaign on a “Change” platform, publicized mostly through corporate email on slow Friday mornings. Qualifications? Two years of foreign service in the U.S. Peace Corps, a rusty but working knowledge of the Bulgarian language and a recent interest in international soccer. If pressed to present my relevant skills and experience, I plan on falling back on my “intangibles” as something I’ve always found to be “self-evident” and on balance productive in the workplace. Free job coaching tip for you all: these are things that are easy to claim and hard to disprove. “What’s this, you’d like to show me the door? I’ve seen a door before, gentlemen. As you know, I am quite worldly. Ok, I’m going, I’m going… watch the beret.”
On a more serious note, I’m co-founding the Sharon Penultimate Frisbee league here in town (Facebook.com/sharonpenultimatefrisbee… send us a “Like” so that we look like we’re popular), in a delayed attempt to start exercising this year. Yes, I’m sure none of you want to hear that I’ve gained 10 pounds for the first time since maybe the 10th grade (dodging thrown cans of diet shakes)… seeing a number on the scale I thought I’d never see. Yep, age 40 seems to have finally slowed down the old metabolism a bit, and it’s time to do some running around after a flying disc (a la NASA). We’re calling it “penultimate” frisbee because it aims to be a bit slower than the “ultimate” game that others play, what with 40-somethings and their kids possibly playing as well. I’m also hoping it’s “not the last game we’ll ever play” (trademark pending). First gathering of the group was small but hearty… we appointed ourselves various titles in the organization and are planning a marketing blitz this weekend at the town library, train station, berry farm, etc. We’re gambling that pictures of 1970s frisbee players with colorful tube socks will be a major draw, although I could be misreading the “dipster” quotient in this community.
Isaac has officially start piano lessons — much to my relief as I thought he would never agree to this after seeing how much Sydney has resisted practicing over the past couple years. But Sydney seemed to turn a corner in the past couple months actually practicing by herself and working on specific portions of her songs without prompting. And now that Isaac has at least agreed to start and is sitting and listening to the piano teacher (something we weren’t sure he would do as he will often prioritize his own agenda over that of anyone else, regardless of their seniority), I feel like we’re over the hump on this whole raising children business. No? Many more hurtles to come? You’re probably right.
Ok, time to hit the basement recording studio with what’s left of my day off. Not sure what I’ll record, but I like to keep the reels running and just see what happens. Thousands of hours in the can already of just me talking to the poster of Dylan down there… “Why can’t you sing anymore???”