Clwb Pêl-droed Dinas Abertawe

The game to watch for most soccer fans this weekend was the UEFA Champions League title match between Manchester United and Barcelona.  That was true for me, too -- until I turned on Fox Soccer Channel this morning at 10AM and just happened upon the kick-off of the Swansea City - Reading game.  The two Championship League teams were playing at Wembley Stadium in the play-off game to determine which squad would earn its way into the Barclays Premier League next season.

I love how it seems like every city in the U.K. has its own team with a whole mess of loyal fans who faithfully support those teams each time they take the pitch, regardless of which league they find themselves competing in that year.  It was awesome to see Wembley Stadium completely full while these two teams I'd never heard of played for the right to move up and play in the most famous sports league in the world.

While the announcers were giving us the starting line-ups and outlining the formations that each team would be playing, I decided that Swansea City was my team.  And, forward Stephen Dobbie (who I immediately took to calling Dobbie the House Elf), was my favorite player.  If Swansea were to win, they'd move up to the Premier League for the first time in their history.

Swansea dominated the first half, jumping out to 3-0 lead and Dobbie put in the third goal.  The "Jacks" ended up winning 4-2 and, by lunch time, I was online learning all the Swansea chants, making requests for Swansea gear for Father's Day, and watching old YouTube videos of Swansea fans from the early 1990's battling their hated rivals from Cardiff.  I'm even trying to learn Welsh.

We'll see how long this fascination lasts.  But, for now ...

Swansea, O Swansea, O city said I

I'll stand here on the north bank until the day I die

Take me to the Vetch Field way down by the sea

Where I will follow Swansea

Swansea City

Temptation

We're spending the weekend at Kim's parents' house outside Philadelphia.  Jay's playing in a soccer tournament out in West Chester and we're staying here rather than camping out in a hotel.  This is so much better!

Kim's parents' house (which they just moved into last year) is a great three-story town house in a retirement community just down the street from the house in which they lived for the past 30+ years.  It's got everything you could possibly want in a new home and lots of extra special touches.  I particularly like the huge laundry room, the awesome family room on the lower level,  and -- best of all -- the super-efficient toilets that make that "whooshing" noise when they flush.

The only problem I'm having here this weekend is that the emergency call buttons keep calling to me each time I walk by one of them.  Because the house is in a retirement community, the builder placed these buttons strategically throughout the house.  They're discreetly placed on the walls next to light switches and in the bathrooms.  My guess is that most people wouldn't even notice them.  But I'm not most people.  I see the word "Emergency" and the little drawstring on each box and the voice inside my head starts talking to me. "Go ahead -- pull it," it says.  "Don't you want to see what would happen?"

And I do want to know what would happen.  Would there be a knock on the door or would the phone ring?  How long would it take?  If they sent someone, who would show up -- security or medical personnel?  What would they say when they got here?  It's so tempting.

Maybe I can get Jay to pull one.

Good-Bye Oprah

My family is convinced that I hate Oprah but they're wrong.  I don't hate her at all -- I just think she's a complete contradiction.

Back in my carefree college days, I used to watch Oprah quite a bit.  She was right up there in the daily rotation along with The Price is Right and the 4PM - 6PM block of The Cosby Show, Family Ties, Cheers, and Night Court re-runs.  I liked her show.  She was much more relatable than Phil Donahue (too liberal) and Sally Jesse Raphael (too trashy).  She seemed smart and didn't take herself too seriously.

Once I got out of college, I stopped watching daytime television.  But it's been hard to stay away from news of Oprah during the past 20 years.  She seems to never be out of the public eye.  Here are a couple of the things that stick with me from that time.

• She talks about the importance of loving yourself as you are but her O magazine cover photos (which used to pile up in the lunchroom at Aetna) just look so obviously airbrushed.
• The "Oprah's Favorite Things" giveaways drive me nuts.  Oprah's not giving anything away!  The companies that make the products donate them.  It's advertising for them.  I get that Oprah doesn't claim that she's giving these things away out of her own pocket but it's certainly implied that she is.
• She took an $18 million per year deal with Sirius back in 2006 and gives just 30 minutes per week (for 40 weeks per year) to the channel that Sirius devoted to her.  Doesn't she have enough money?  I'm a stockholder and I feel like she's ripping me off.  Doesn't that run counter to the values she preaches?

I saw the last 30 minutes of Oprah's final show today.  It wasn't what I expected.  Oprah's been tremendously successful -- a 25+ year career and an extremely strong brand are evidence of that.  But, she didn't seem able to enjoy that success.  Instead, she kept coming back to how she'd needed the show all these years to validate her own sense of self-worth.  As much as she's driven me crazy over the years, I wanted Oprah to express some joy and satisfaction with herself and her accomplishments.  She deserved it.  But, she was unable to do so.  That's sad.

Isn't He Adorable?

We've had a robin's nest in the holly tree outside our kitchen window this spring.  The mother robin has been dutifully keeping her three eggs safe and warm for several weeks while we've waited for them to hatch.  This morning, the first egg hatched.  I thought about snapping a picture but it's tough to get a real good shot from inside the house and I don't want to get too close to the nest.  Luckily, this picture showed up on the web today and solved the problem for me.

OK, it's not the baby robin.  It's Tom Brady, heading down a waterslide while on vacation.  He actually looks quite a bit like the baby bird in its nest.  He's nervous, scared, and screaming for his mommy.  If only the Bills could generate the same reaction from him.

The Indescribable Lauren Alaina

I've been a faithful American Idol viewer since the very beginning.  Last year, it was real tough to stick with it, though.  The judging panel seemed bored and the contestants had no personality or spark.

I was pretty sure that this would be the year I'd bail on the show.  But, that hasn't happened.  I'm enjoying it more than ever.  I really like the new judges.  Jennifer Lopez and Steven Tyler are too positive with their comments but they're obviously enjoying themselves and that's good to see.  There have been some really interesting contestants.  I never thought Paul, Casey, or Haley would win but it was fun to see them stick around as long as they did.

Best of all, there have been plenty of contestants who annoy me.  My favorite part of watching the show definitely is heckling the contestants I don't like from the safety of my home.  Poor little Thia Megia gave me plenty of opportunities to announce "I can sing better than that" after her early performances.  I'd then demonstrate exactly what I was talking about, usually to a chorus of boos from the rest of the household.  Pia Toscano's performances always sounded great but, as soon as she'd finish her song, I'd start in with how she'd proved once again that she'd made a deal with the devil, trading her soul for looks and a good voice.  See where that got her?  Whenever Jacob Lusk sang, I'd make gagging noises and ask who in America could possibly be voting for this guy?  I'm still wondering about that.

Finally, there's Lauren Alaina.  She just annoys the hell out of me.  I can't really put my finger on it.  I don't know if it's:

• The fact that she won't use her last name (although, if I were on American Idol, I think it might be better for me to just be Michael Joseph)
• Her hair
• Her mom
• The blank eyes and frozen smile that seems to be her primary expression
• The lack of any emotional connection to anything I've ever heard her sing
• That "yo-yo arm" thing she does whenever she sings a slow song
• That she's still on the show!

I just don't get America's fascination with her.  Of course, I'm writing about her, so what does that say about me?

It's Always Important to Have Clean Underwear (With no Holes)

Lately, I've been finding myself asking Kim to help me get dressed in the morning.  The problem is that, as I get older, it's getting harder for me to remember which ties go with which suit.  I think part of the problem is that I've branched out a bit with recent purchases.  I used to have just brown, black, navy blue, and gray suits.  Now, I've thrown olive and cream into the mix and I've got a half-dozen blazers of all different colors.  It's become quite complicated.

Today, I'm happy to say that I picked out all my own clothes.  But, I had a whole new challenge to overcome.  Here's why.  I had a lunch meeting today with a guy I've gotten to know at one of the companies on my target list.  I sent him a note yesterday to confirm our meeting.  He threw me a curveball with his response.  He's a runner and he knows that I am, too.  In his reply, he said "Come on over at 11:30AM instead of Noon and we'll go for a run before having lunch.  We've got a gym in the building and you can change here and then get cleaned up afterwards."  It sounded like an interesting idea.  "Sure," I said.  We were set.

That's how I came to find myself standing in the bathroom this morning going through my underwear drawer in a mild state of panic.  Should I wear boxers or boxer briefs?  After I made my choice (I'll leave it to your imagination to figure out what I choose), I moved on to the next key decision -- which pair was least threadbare?  I literally took each pair out and held them up for inspection.  I narrowed it down to two and then made my final choice.  I put on the chosen underwear.  Now, it was time for the mirror to "inspect" myself.  Everything looked great!

The rest of my choices were easy.  I went with conservative tan slacks, a white button down shirt, and a checked blazer.  Today, it was the underwear that was most important.

As luck would have it, we had a big rainstorm at mid-day.  We skipped the run and just had lunch.  It tasted extra good in my hand-picked underwear.

Ups and Downs

I ran the Maryland Half Marathon yesterday.  It was my third time running this distance but my first time running this particular event.  The race was held right here in Howard County and it was full of hills.  Much like the course, my performance had its fair share of ups and downs.  Here's a recap for you.

• Pre-race.  I arrive at the start and find that there are pace runners.  The job of the pace runner is to pick a predetermined finish time (2 hours, for example) and then set a pace throughout the race that will hit that goal time.  Anyone who wants to hit that goal time just needs to stay with the pace runner.  I've never followed a pace runner before but I decide to try and stick with the 1:40 guy.  My two previous half marathons, I'd done 1:45:00 and 1:40:55 so I thought it was worth a try.
• Mile 1.  The pace runner sets off.  It doesn't take me long to decide he's going a little too quickly for me so I let him go.  Typically, I like to start off a bit slow and then pick things up throughout the run.  I really hate to get passed by people at the end of a race (it's demoralizing) and I also like to conserve my energy.
• Mile 2.  I can still see the pace runner but he's about 25 yards ahead of me.  Mile 2 is almost all downhill and, with my short legs, I'm getting passed by people.  At the mile 2 marker, my watch says 14:48 and I worry that that's a lot faster than I intended to run.  So, I try to slow down just a bit.
• Mile 3.  Two of my friends from the street, Paul and Mark, are also running the race.  They started off ahead of me so I'm now in last place in our unofficial competition.  I pass Paul during this mile but Mark is still up ahead and out of sight.  I start having to go to the bathroom.  I wonder if I can hold out for 10 more miles.  The pace runner is now out of sight but the roads are pretty twisty so I'm not sure how far ahead he is.
• Mile 4.  Boy, I really have to go to the bathroom.  We're running along country roads but there are houses every so often.  I'm wondering if I can just pull off into someone's driveway and step behind a tree but the last thing I want is for the homeowner to come out and start yelling at me.  I realize I can't make it to the end of the race and start obsessing with going to the bathroom.
• Mile 5.  This is one long uphill mile.  I start passing all the people who passed me on the downhills.  Then I see him -- it's the pace runner.  I catch up to him.  I can do this, I think.  I decide to try to stick with the pace runner, after all.
• Mile 6.  All that running uphill took my mind off my bladder - until we pass a small group of Howard County's finest citizens hanging out in their driveway drinking beer while they watch us run.  Keep in mind that it's about 8:45AM.  Who knows what they're thinking.  I'm still cruising along and can see Mark about 25 yards ahead of me now.  The pace runner is just behind me now, offering encouragement to those still struggling from the hill on mile 5.
• Mile 7.  Look!  It's a Port-A-Potty.  I decide to stop.  As I'm standing in the Port-A-Potty, I start counting off the seconds to see how much time I'm wasting.  I count almost to 60 and then burst back out of the Port-A-Potty door.  The first thing I see is Paul's back.  He's literally 5 yards ahead of me.  While I was in there taking care of business, I've fallen back into last place in the Big Branch Drive division.  Oh, well, I think.  I caught him once, I'll catch him again.
• Mile 8.  Now that my bladder's empty, I feel much better.  I pick up the pace so that I can get back to the pace runner.  I'm also starting to look for Kim since she told me she'd try to hang out around Miles 8 - 10 to cheer for me.  No matter how hard I try, I can't catch Paul.  He's now 10 yards ahead of me which seems like an eternity.
• Mile 9.  The bad news is that I'm starting to get some mild cramps.  The good news is that I can now see both Mark and the pace runner.  I also get some encouragement from Kim who shouts for me to catch Paul and Mark.  I yell back that I was ahead of Paul until I stopped to go to the bathroom.
• Mile 10.  Up ahead, Paul passes Mark.  Mark is now about 25 yards ahead of me, running with the pace runner.  I'm struggling to hang on to both of them.  At least the cramps are gone.  Kim reappears one more time to cheer for me.
• Mile 11.  After running along country roads and through some small neighborhoods, we're now running alongside empty office parks.  For the first time, I start to think about taking a quick break to walk.  I tried that in the one marathon I ran and that was a big mistake.  I stopped at mile 23 and could never get back to running, walking the final 3 miles.
• Mile 12.  The pace runner, God bless him, drops back to run with me for about 30 seconds.  He tells me that we're right on 1:40 pace and tells me to ball my hands into fists to help with efficiency.  Who knew?  I tell him I don't think I can keep up with him and he tells me to do my best and moves ahead.  We're on a big sweeping downhill section and I can see Paul really pulling away.  Mark, too, is now at least 100 yards ahead of me.  I resign myself to the bronze medal in the Big Branch Drive division.
• Mile 13.  I am really struggling now.  I keep checking my watch and see that I ran the last mile in around 8:30 so I know my shot at 1:40 is gone.  At least we're back into a neighborhood so there are some people watching and cheering.  The last thing I want to do is stop running while someone's watching so I keep going.
• The finish.  Believe it or not, very few people pass me in the last mile, despite the troubles I'm having.  I've got nothing left for a finishing kick, though, so I just plod towards the finish line.  The clock comes into view and it's in the 1:41 range already.  I tell myself that I have to finish before it crosses to 1:42 and manage to come across in 1:41:49.

So, now that I look back on the race, I think I learned a few things.  First, even though the lines are long, use the Port-A-Potty before the race.  Second, run your own race.  Don't worry about friends and pace runners.  Finally, if you subtract the time I spent during the race going to the bathroom from my finish time, I set a personal record.  Hooray for me!

Thank God blogspot.com Is Back

blogspot.com has been down for the past few days so I haven't been able to post.  I have ideas all the time about what my next post is going to be and it was driving me crazy that I couldn't post anything.

Here are just some of the things you didn't get to read about because blogspot.com was down:

• The scolding that poor Pippa Middleton's "friends" were going to get from me for selling those old pictures of her.
• My latest bout with Lyme Disease (that's 3 cases in the past 4 years for those of you keeping track at home).
• All the reasons why neither the very safe and boring Scotty or the "Oh, I can't believe I'm still here" Lauren deserve to win American Idol.
• My story about how I almost broke down and finally got a Twitter account when I learned that the Taliban are now on Twitter.
• The disappointment I felt when I saw that someone beat me to inventing denim diapers.
• The questions from the test that Hannah had to take (and pass) in order to qualify to be a Pizza Hut worker.
• My blow-by-blow account of Ginger's seizure (don't worry -- she seems fine now).

How did you make it through the week without me?

That Winning Feeling

This spring season, Jay's soccer team is finally playing in Division 1 of NCSL.  NCSL is the top travel league for teams from central Virginia up to Baltimore.  There are 6 divisions in Jay's age group.  Just like in European soccer, at the end of each season the top 2 teams in the division move up and the bottom 2 teams move down.

It's been a long slow slog for Jay's team to finally get to Division 1.  They started in Division 4 way back when the team first joined the league when the boys were 10 or 11 years old.  Slowly, they climbed to Division 2.  They stayed there a while but then fell back to Division 3.  Eventually, they climbed back to Division 2 and, last fall, they finished second in Division 2.  That got them promoted to Division 1.

As you might expect, the first season in Division 1 has been a tough one.  It hasn't helped that, of the 18 boys on the roster, 5 are injured.  That's left the team with just 13 healthy players.  After winning their first game, they lost 3 in a row.  That put them ahead of just 2 teams with 5 games remaining.

Jay's team had two games this weekend.  Saturday, they fought to a 2-2 tie.  Sunday, they pulled out a 1-0 win on a goal with just 2 minutes remaining in the game.  Jay's team had dominated the entire game and had come close several times, including hitting the cross bar with about 15 minutes left in the game.  It was an exciting and well-deserved win.

Watching the game on the sideline, I was pretty happy when the team finally scored.  I'm one of those parents who probably gets a little too excited at moments like that, acting as if I was a real member of the team and had contributed to the win.  It's just something I do as I grow older and get further and further away from the emotions of playing team sports.

At the dinner table last night, I asked Jay what he felt like when the goal went in so late in the game.  I told him that it had been so long since I'd competed in a sporting event of any real significance that I'd forgotten the feeling that a player gets when his team pulls one out at the last minute.  I wanted him to describe to me what it felt like so that I could experience it myself one more time.  Jay didn't give the question a moment's thought.  His immediate response was "I don't know."

He's only 14.  I get a lot of short answers from him and that's fine.  I'm certain that he felt something so I didn't press him on his answer.  After all, it was his winning moment -- not mine.  Having him describe it for me wouldn't have made it my accomplishment.  I hope, though, that it was a good feeling for him and that he's able to hold on to it for a long time.

More Fun With Ginger

This evening there was a thunderstorm during dinner.  Thunderstorms always bring out Ginger's "A" game.

Ginger usually hangs out upstairs on her bed during dinner.  Tonight, we were sitting around the table eating when she bounded down the stairs and nervously circled the table.  You could tell a storm was coming by looking out the windows but it wasn't here yet.  Next thing we knew, Ginger had hopped up onto the chair in the corner.  While she's generally not allowed on the furniture, we've given in and let her have the chair as one of her "safe zones" during a thunderstorm.

At the first crack of thunder, Ginger jumped off the chair and ran to Hannah.  She leapt up into Hannah's lap and sat there shaking, panting, and looking completely miserable.  That lasted for about 2 minutes.  Then, it was off of Hannah's lap and over to my chair.  When Ginger skips over Kim and looks to anyone else for comfort, you know things are really bad.  Ginger hopped up onto my lap.  I put my arms around her.  She was shaking like crazy and starting to drool.  After soaking my left sleeve, she switched positions and started drooling on my right sleeve.  Then, to really show her appreciation, she started crazily licking my hands.  I was not happy.

As all this went on, we started to wonder aloud about how Ginger ever convinced us that we should take her home when we first saw her.  I still vividly remember meeting her for the first time in the little waiting room at the Caroline County pound.  I remember how she came right up to me, sniffed at me, and started to lick my hands.  "How friendly she is," I thought.  "She's not the least bit afraid."  Now I realize that it wasn't love -- the licking is just one of her many OCD symptoms.

The storm's now over and Ginger's back upstairs on her bed.  I've washed my hands and forgiven her for drooling all over me.  I know she won't let me pet her or hold her again until the next time she's frightened to death (which, knowing her, won't be long).  That's OK.  She's Ginger and I wouldn't have her any other way.

The End of Osama bin Laden

As you can tell from the previous two posts, this isn't a political blog.  But, it's impossible not to comment on the news about the killing of Osama bin Laden.

I go to bed early so the first I heard about this was when I turned on ESPN this morning and saw the news scrolling along the sports ticker.  I was so surprised that I actually headed halfway back up the stairs to wake Kim and tell her what had happened.  Then I came to my senses and figured she'd rather be woken up by her alarm than by me.

Upon hearing the news, one of my first thoughts was about "Mayor for Life" Marion Barry and his arrest for smoking crack back in January 1990.  Back then, I got the news the same way -- early in the morning, still dark, watching TV while Kim was sleeping.  Twenty-one years later, I was going through the same thing.  I had this stunning information and no one with whom to share it.

In any event, I'd almost forgotten about our hunt for bin Laden.  After so many years, I never thought we'd find him.  It seemed more likely that he was already dead of natural causes as I'd heard he was on dialysis for kidney failure.  The perseverance we showed in continuing to hunt for him is admirable.  I'm happy for those in the U.S. who lost family members and friends in 9/11 and for those all over the world who have had loved ones taken from them by other Al Qaeda acts of terrorism.

I'm not sure how I feel about watching people take to the streets to celebrate the news.  I prefer the non-emotional approach that Obama took during his televised address (which I saw on tape delay on CNN this morning).  I can't imagine what he was feeling inside but his delivery was so dispassionate and his message was so clear.  Here's what I took from Obama's speech: "He attacked us.  He terrorized the world for years.  We said we'd get him.  We did.  The world is a better place because of that."  Perfect.

My Blog is Awesome! And So Is Pippa Middleton!

In fact, if I had one dollar for every pageview of my Royal Wedding post, I'd have $87!  Maybe I should just post about Pippa Middleton every day.  It's tempting.

You tell me -- who looks better?