my night in tarrytown

i don't know if i'll make a habit of going back to tarrytown often. however, many of my favorite musicians appear to like playing at the music hall, so maybe i will. but for now, my night there will be memorialized by images of hanging witches and ghosts, the question of just how many tarrytowns there are, creepy scarecrows, the need for TWO chinese restaurants and brazilian restaurants, and todd snider.

todd was great to watch. as were the other fine gentleman (bruce robison and robert earl keen). it was my first exposure to either of them. i knew who robert earl keen was because of the song "BEER RUN" but i knew none of his music.

it was a wonderful night. solidified my todd snider fandom. i wish i had discovered the use of words as we walked by him having dinner at the greek restaurant. but i like to think i just opted to not bother him while he was having a delightful dinner with his family and friends.

i'm sticking with that story.

A new habit

a photo a day... if i can't write, i can click

 

I love Todd Snider

This is not a surprise to anyone. Least of all me. Most exciting right now is the fact that in less than two weeks I will be seeing the man live. This will be my first time. I am beyond excited. Super excited.

I wish it was already October 30. Thinking about this milestone, I decided to come up with what might be my top 10 favorite Todd Snider songs. I say might because this list could drastically change tomorrow.

So here goes - in no particular order ...

1. Doublewide Blues
2. The Ballad Of The Devil's Backbone
3. Money, Compliments, and Publicity
4. Broke
5. All That Matters
6. Feel Like I'm Falling In Love
7. Vinyl Records
8. The Devil You Know
9. America's Favorite Pasttime
10. Happy To Be Here.

Has it really been a year?

I call this picture Mermaid mom.

My mom died one year ago tomorrow. I honestly don't know how that happened. Where did the year go? What do I have to show for it?

I guess the question is what happens now? I've been waiting for this year to be over. And now it's here and I have no idea what to do.

I feel like I should mark it somehow. But all I do is think about where I was exactly one year ago. Last week I was at a meeting. The entire time I thought about how I was at the same place for a similar meeting. I even parked in almost the same place. Hell, it may have been the exact same parking spot.

On Sunday, I went to my brother's house to have dinner with his in-laws. A year ago, we did the same thing. That night was when everything started.

This whole week has been a mess of "last year at this time." My mom passed away on a Wednesday. That would have technically been today. This whole night people were over. I remember eating chicken and drinking wine. I remember calling the few people I wanted to talk to. I remember sitting on my porch talking to my friend Sara and feeling a little shaky but shocked at how calm I was. I remember sitting on the floor in a corner of the "green room" and talking to my friend Jess. I remember that I had on a red dress. I wore that to the hospital. I thought my mom would like it. She loved the color red. She didn't notice. I believe she had no idea I was there. I haven't worn it since. I remember ripping it off and putting on a t-shirt and jeans for the rest of the night.

I remember everything. The feelings and images are burned in my head. I remember that last hour. I remember the feeling in my body when we had to make a decision. I can still remember the feeling of the nurse's hand on my back when we sat in the room.

I remember it all. But I can't believe it happened. I'm still a little blown away. I still catch my breath at realizing she isn't here.

I am terrified of forgetting her. Or of just remembering the parts that were really bad. She had been sick most of my life. I don't want to just remember that.

Obviously, it's been hard. And I feel like tomorrow has to mean more than just one year. Does it all change? After tomorrow, nothing is new. The new reality is over. It's no longer a matter of "This is the first ______ since my mom died." I've already experienced it. Now what?

I miss that smile.

My mom and I at my niece's softball game last summer.

My mom and I. I think I'm not even one yet. I had massive ringlets at my first birthday.

My parents at Balboa Island.
I love this picture.

My mom and I went up to the Berkshires a few years back for some shopping and lunch. We stopped off in Stockbridge where this picture was taken. We had just had lunch at Alice's Restaurant.

the perils of being a soccer fan

I love the sport. I do. I grew up on it. I've already written about why I love it. There's something absolutely magical about going to a match and following a team. I don't think there's anything unique about my feelings. Talk to any fan. Any sport. Any thing, really. A die hard baseball fan will tell you about the joy they encounter while at a game. Regardless of park and teams playing. Talk to a musical theater fanatic and they will tell you about how amazing it is to see a show. Regardless of whether it's on Broadway or in their local high school gym.

That's how I feel about soccer.

But I'm also a fan. I also want my team to do well. I want the boys in light blue of Napoli to make me proud. And do they?

No.

At least not lately.

Today the boys lost to Roma. And is pisses me off. I know I need to not take it personally. These things happen. Teams lose. But this particular concoction of players are individually quite talented. And usually when individually talented players get together some good things can happen, regardless of egos and outsized personalities. (I'm looking at every Brazilian national team ever.) Not so with these guys. I just finished watching the match and it felt like my niece's travel league of 9 year olds were playing Roma. Honestly though, Roma looked like a slightly more organized high school team with a couple good shots on goal and then a tightened up defense.

In other words, this game was not a pretty one.

It also most likely marks the end of Roberto Donadoni as manager for Napoli. If managers were scored on looking amazing in suits - Donadoni would be tops. The guy cuts a fine figure in his exquisitely tailored suit on the side lines. No, really. He's a good looking guy.


But unfortunately, that's not enough. I like the guy. I like his laid back appearance. But something has not been cutting it. Maybe he just lacks the fire. Exhibit A is his experience as National Team coach during Euro 2008. Maybe he's not inspiring his players. I watch a lot of Friday Night Lights and it has taught me all I care to know about American football. And one thing it demonstrates is the power of inspiring coaching. If Coach Taylor was managing Napoli, those boys would be having emotional breakthroughs everyday on the pitch that can only improve their game. Even if Matt Saracen gets benched.

But I digress.

Donadoni is probably out. And maybe that's a good thing. The season is still early. Last year at this time, Napoli was on fire. At one point they were actually in first place. It's time to shake things up. And maybe that shaking involves a coach who can inspire. My dream pick: Robert Mancini.

He also looks good on the pitch in a suit. But I loved his work with Inter. I also remember watching him play with Sampdoria when I was a kid.

On a total side note, I am going to jump on the "BRING CASSANO TO THE NATIONAL TEAM" bandwagon. I'll be secretary. Seriously, the man is inventive in a way that so few players are. Sure, he's got a past of "Attitude problems." He wrote a book talking about how he basically didn't care about what people told him to do when he was younger. But, um, Sampdoria is at the top of the table. And it's because of him. They beat the unbeatable Inter. And it's because of him. And, well, the Italian national team needs some flair and attitude.



You won't get that from smiley Cannavaro or Buffon or any of the other national team mainstays.

But these frustrations, these anxiety inducing mornings, the mood setting experiences for the end of the weekend are what being a soccer fan is about. It's why I signed up. The agony of watching your team struggle and then (ideally, hopefully) win gloriously is why I keep watching. Again, it's not unique to me. It's not unique to this sport. But it's my experience.

And maybe next week I'll be writing about a completely revived Napoli.

Or not.

It's amazing what you can find

These two boxes had been in my parent's basement, (well, my basement) as long as I can remember. In fact, the address label on the box said 1968.

It appears my grandmother bought them. They were ordered through I tried a google search to see what I could come up with for Signet China. And apparently there is a lot. But I was under the impression it was a catalog as well. I will keep investigating.

But we have the address label.






And a warning to be careful.


And the boxes are actually sort of cool.

I remember seeing the boxes when I was a kid. They had always been in the basement taking up space. My dad would get annoyed because they were in the wine cellar portion of the basement. And took up space. I remember being told at some point the dishes were mine. That my mom had picked them out for me. Or maybe that was my interpretation. I mean, I was probably about 10.

Clearly since the dishes were bought way, way before I was born (nine years), they were not bought for me. My grandmother bought them and had them sent to my parent's house. For whatever reason, she did not give them to the intended person and my mom held on to them. Nine years later when a little girl was born (moi), it was decided they would become part of my hope chest.

And voila.

It's kind of nutty. The craziest bit is that they are green. Green is my favorite color.

It's almost as if there is some sort of psychic intervention at play...

Sparkle?

I have been long gone from this blog. I don't know why it happened. But it did. I could make excuses. But, it's better to just pick up and move on.

And here I am.

I've been crazy with work. Crazy with trying to manage my dad. And then I went on vacation.

I wanted my sparkle. That's what I most craved on my week away. And while the sparkle was not exactly found, the vacation was wonderful. Can't quite say what the best part of vacation was.

Was it finally making it to the Pemetic summit? Was it the kayaking trip on the bay? Was it Improv Acadia?

I don't know.

I think the parts I most liked were the parts where my mind shut down. The mornings where we sat in and watched Charmed. Or the nights (okay, just once) where we sat by the water with drink in hand talking and listening to water lapping at our feet.

That's what I needed. I needed to shut down and not think and not obsess and just let go. I was hoping for some feeling of sparkle and shine. I had this hope that I'd find my creative juices.

But just doing nothing and relaxing and letting go. That was enough.

And now I'm home. And work has resumed crazy. But I can at least remember the happy moments of just a few days ago. That's what needs to carry me through. I can't regret what I didn't do. But I need to relish in what I did do.

It did strengthen my resolve to ramp things up in my own life. Travel around more. Visit more people. Really figure out what it is I want to do in life.

But tonight, I'm taking it slow. I spent the day getting some work done in the house. And now I just need to settle in and do some reading and good sleeping.

Family ...

Family stresses me out. Maybe it's my overthinking tendencies, but my goodness! How can I not?

I spent the night with a bunch of cousins who I don't see that often. It was also the first time I saw any of them since my mom died. It's hard not to walk into this restaurant and wonder what they are thinking. It's also hard to wonder why I choose to go to these events. It's hard to sit there and clearly not be part of the conversation with these moms. They all have kids within months of each other. They were all married with a year or so of one another.

I went out to meet a relative visiting from South America. She was lovely. However, when it came time to talk to me. I froze up. I don't know why.

Actually I do. I always feel inferior around these relatives. Despite the fact that I am an attorney. Despite my life experiences. Despite my grades in school. Despite it all, I feel like I don't compare. Why the hell do I let them get to me in this way?

Is it because I'm not married? Is it because I don't have the same interests? Is it because I never actually hung out with them? I don't know. But once a year or so I get invited to these dinners and I go. I go because I want to be included. Or part of their clique. Or so I think before I go. And usually as I go through the doors I start to get a constriction in my throat and regret my decision. I have a fine time throughout the evening. And I did last night.

But I find myself amused by certain things. Like when I was asked if I was born 1982. Or when someone remembered how big a fan of Hugh Grant I was. Or when I kept being referred to as the smart one.

I mean, really? Do they just not have anything to talk about with me?

But I go. The evening is behind me. And now I can put it behind me. Follow everyone on facebook and wait until the next one in a year.

I remembered #10

I remembered my #10 from my last post. I had forgotten about it because since going gluten free, I simply had to remove it from my vocabulary. But here it is.

10. Malt vinegar. I miss malt vinegar. I miss going to a pub, ordering fries, dousing them in salt and malt vinegar and having a beer.

I remembered today since I was at Vaughn's eating the Glenkerry Potatoes and saw the malt vinegar on the table. It made me momentarily sad. But the Glenkerry Potatoes are absolutely amazing. I can eat those. They don't need malt vinegar on them.

10 THINGS I MISS MOST SINCE GOING GLUTEN FREE

It's been a year and 12 days since I received my official celiac disease diagnosis. While it's been difficult and I'm still trying to figure out what I can eat and not eat and what exactly is still bothering me (bye bye soy milk), I would never want to go back. Here is what I wrote then.

And most of it holds true. I think I have a fairly good attitude about it. Usually. Oh I whine. Oh I make a point of pointing out how difficult it is for me. But for the most part I try to be upbeat about it. So I have to order really differently at restaurants. And maybe it's not the easiest to visit someone (who is not already living a gluten free life). But if giving up gluten means I won't have horrible stomach pains anymore and I stand a better chance of not having the massive health issues my entirely family appears to be plagued with, then adios gluten.

BUT, there are 10 things I miss since starting this lifestyle.

1. Italian bakeries. Bye bye sfogliatelle, pasticiotti, and cannolis. I did however learn to make gluten free pizzelles this weekend. See for yourself.
2. Being able to run out to the local cafe and order a sandwich.
   
3. Not having to call every restaurant before heading out to see what they're gluten free options are.
   
4. A good loaf of fresh baked bread. I'm still trying to make this happen.
5. Having a beer at a sporting event. The sangria just isn't the same.
6. Pretzels. (But when in the city and in need of a quick snack, cashews are a good substitution.)
7. Going out for pizza.
8. Not having to worry about cross-contamination.
9. Cornmeal bagels from that place in Elmwood.
   
10. Um... Honestly. I can't actually come up with a tenth. And really #9 was sort of a stretch.
    

I do miss these things. But again, I will eventually adjust. Or figure out how to make an excellent gluten free option. Not just a "decent" gluten free option. Seriously, can anyone make gluten free phyllo dough?

water plus sun equal good saturday

IMG_0295, originally uploaded by laliaberry.

I spent saturday doing some things that needed to be done in the house followed by an afternoon/evening at the shore.

It was a day capped off with an hour or more ride on my brother's boat where we got to catch the sunset as we rode back to the marina. Stupidly, I didn't bring my camera around for the fun, but did have my iPhone. It amazes me how great the iPhone photo quality is. I mean, it's a phone - and that's the shot. Imagine what my Canon Rebel could have done.

See some other iPhone snaps here.

At what point did I become a grown up

I don't know when it happened, but I'm not sure I like it. Somewhere along the line I became responsible. Had a steady job for more than 5 years. Have "savings." Debate whether or not a new hoodie is a necessary purchase. Plan for a well balanced meal. Or egads! Actually got rid of some of the tank tops and tshirts that had been my uniform for years.

But at the same time, that other part of me thinks I'm really still fifteen. I bought a pair of red converse because Gwen Cooper wore them the first season of Torchwood. Wearing pigtails (when my hair allowed it) was the norm. I like the big blockbuster comic book movies that have become the style each summer. I still laugh at stupid jokes. And I still have a fine appreciation for The State.

I am not sure when this all happened. It shocked me this week when I was told I look my age. I have never looked my age. When I was a kid, I looked older. And when I was 24 I would get carded buying cigarettes. And now, I "look my age." I was assured that was not a bad thing. The exact quote was

"You look like someone in her late 20s/early 30s."

Granted, I know that's not old. But that also means that when I consider dating someone the age range is not 25-30. But 35-40. And THAT is a scary consideration. When did that become my demographic? My knee jerk reaction is that I couldn't consider a 39 year old to grasp my pop cultural references. Until I realize that "OH MY GOD, I HAVE THE SAME POP CULTURAL REFERENCES AS A 39 YEAR OLD!!!"

Rationally, I know this is not old. I know that I'm only a scary eight years away from that number. I know that I best get along with people older than me in most aspects of life. I know that I've always been beyond responsible and together in this life. And in that respect have always acted more mature than my years might be. I also know that in the great scheme of things 31 is pretty freakin young.

But if we all thought rationally, where would the fun be in that? There would be no more late night mind ramblings. There would be no more over reactions to simple things in life. Goodbye to overthinking how that date went. And that life, while calm and serene, would be a little bit boring methinks.

I'm doing my best to remember that there are plusses to being a grown up. I can get on any ride at the amusement park. I can buy myself things without worrying about having to ask mom or dad for money. I own a car I dig (Hi Severus!) I am respected in my field and people actually seek out my opinion. (That is also a shocking moment in the growing up.) I've had a lot more time to better form my opinions on life and thoughts. I grew up with some of the better pop cultural experiences. (The State, Tommy Boy, Colin Firth as Darcy, Edward Scissorhands, Buffy - the way vampires should be, Green Day)

While I still do not know when it happened or how, I'm grateful for these little things. I also really like the little crinkles around my eyes when I smile.

And while this song doesn't quite fit this post, it's been in my head all week. The Todd Snider obsession will be here all summer. Stay tuned.

Anyone seen my voice?

I have been trying to write again. Get back in the habit and be productive with my writing and other creative endeavors. I have a lot of half starts in my house right now and I'd like to be finish a couple of them.

But it's been really hard. So hard.

I sit down to write and it seems like I've forgotten how to do it. I feel like my stories are no longer in my voice. I used to know my voice really well. In fact, I thought I had a strong voice. One that was me and sometimes quite intuitive and articulate.

But now, the voice is foreign to me. It speaks haltingly and forced. I don't know what happened. It's like it just up and vanished and ran away. Maybe it is participating in an exchange program with another voice? When it comes back it will be stronger and more vibrant then ever?

This week I set about with goals. I've established where I want to write in my house (Incidentally, it's a room I've been jokingly referring to as the creative room since my sewing machine, yarn, and other such materials are sitting in there.) I'm deciding what my writing days and times will be. I'm even thinking about a writing ritual - maybe a piece of clothing or a hat or a scarf. I have the chair. It's orange.

I'm hoping that these baby steps will help my voice return. Because, frankly, it's absence is beginning to piss me off.

ahhh music

I like listening to music. It's a favorite pasttime. You'd be hardpressed to ever find me anywhere without music on. Even if I am not conscious of what I'm listening to, it's there.

For some people, the tv serves that role. The role of crutch. It's just easier for me to do things if music is on. I can work better. I can sit and read better. I can pull weeds out of the back patio better.

All around, it's better with music.

Lately, I've been trying to buy less and just appreciate what it is I own. I've also been spending a lot of time playing with pandora. I love the suggestions pandora gives me and the new ideas. And it's easy to deal with at work. I don't have to remember my iPod. I don't have to hope I have batteries in my speakers. It's all there and good to go.

One of my favorite things to do is hear live music. Sitting at a bar, drink in hand, listening to the band play. I don't do it nearly enough. Sadly, there's a scarcity to the closely accessible and affordable live music in my area. I'm not a fan of the big giant concert experience. I like quiet. I like intimate. And that is in the scarcity 'round these parts.

I'm not necessarily gifted or blessed with musical gifts. But, I try. I've been taking guitar lessons the past year and a half and will actually quit next week. Take a break. Play as I feel inspired. I might take up lessons again in the future. But right now, I'm not feeling it the way I used to. But it's been fun to learn songs. I can play "Blackbird." And "Driver 8." And a few other songs here and there.

Listening to music reminds me that I need to bring creativity into my life more. I need to work that in to my day to day more often. It saddens me that I've fallen into profession where I feel stifled creatively. And I don't get the chance to act on those impulses.

The plan is to learn how to bring that in more. Suggestions?

In honor of the song I know how to play best on guitar I am embedding this video I watched a while ago. It made me weepy. I found it at http://www.superherodesigns.com (a great blog.)

Happy Bloody Monday

It's Monday. And it has acted like Monday.

The thing is - it started sooo well. I was downright happy driving into work. The traffic on route 4 did not bother me. The music playing through my car stereo speakers was quite happy. There was Bruce Springsteen. Some Journey. A little bit of "The Little Mermaid." Yes, Sebastian, "life is the bubbles." Indeed.

And then I got into work. First, there was no staff. And that was wrong.

And then they trickled in. I had to have a conversation about why. And it was not the conversation I wanted to have first thing in the morning. I can't take care of everyone. And I can't force people to do various things. But I wish I could. I wish I could tell my staff person that she was required to take the next two weeks off and address her personal issues because it was interfering with her work. And it is interfering with her work. And the nature of what we do and what I do, it does come back to me. Because I'm her boss. And therefore, I have done a crap job of training. Isn't that how it looks to the public? I'm the one who has to eat the crow and own up for their mistakes because I'm the one who hears the complaint.

I'm frustrated and angry and trying to figure out what it is I'm doing right now.

I've been playing caretaker my entire life and it would be nice to just say fuck it, my turn!

As I told someone earlier, incompetence does have its benefits.

question

Would it be a little too self promoting to get one of my neices or nephew this t-shirt?

Yeah.

I thought not. Unfortunately, my freakishly tall little relatives have already outgrown the sizes available.

today's music... while multi-tasking

I had a fun ride into work today. I was groggy as hell, but the music was good.

1. Driver 8 - REM (first song I learned on guitar that felt like I was playing guitar)
2. If My Heart Was a Car - Old 97s (song that got me running again last year)
3. Spanish Bombs - The Clash (how can you not love this song)
4. Restless Heart Syndrome - Green Day (it's Green Day!!!)
5. Find Another Girl - The Hives (I always forget this song...)

And since coming into work, I've been on the phone with an attorney who loves to talk. It's helping perk me up a bit. That and the cup of coffee at my side. But I just clicked on pandora - Todd Snider Station - the music acting as my soundtrack to this conversation so far has been great. (the conversation has been about 30 minutes so far.)

1. The Believer - Rhett Miller (umm, two days in a row my Todd Snider Station has opened with Rhett Miller)
2. Niteclub - Old 97s (pandora looooves Rhett Miller)
3. The Crane Wife 3 - The Decemberists (I forgot about them. Not incredibly crazy abotu them anymore, but still a fun surprise)
4. For All I Know - James McMurtry (a pandora discovery)
5. Tillamook County Jail - Todd Snider (so, the fifth song into the Todd Snider station is ... Todd Snider)
6. Jerusalem - Steve Earle (I have become a bigger and bigger fan of his stuff)
7. Hover - Rhett Miller (seriously, pandora has such a crush on Rhett Miller. Not that I blame them. He is crushable.)
8. Walkin' Cane - Robert Earl Keen (okay, so previous to this pandora station, I only knew Robert Earl Keen as a character in Todd Snider's song "B-E-E-R Run". But I like anything that opens with a slide guitar.)
9. Fortunate Son - Todd Snider (one of the best covers ever. hands down.)
10. Rich Man's War - Steve Earle (one of my favorite Earle songs.)


So that's about it for now. Phone call's over. This guy loves to talk and I get sucked in each time because the conversation is usually good. He's one of the few attorneys I work with that treats me as an equal in conversation. It's rarer than you think in my present line of work. But it's getting much better.

ummm.... time delay

That conviction to post more sort of fell by the wayside.

Oops.

But, here I am. A new meandering of thoughts for those of you reading to process. Thoughts running through my head today include:

1. I have a great article idea for a sports writer to take on. I'd write on, but I don't exactly have the resources. Or patience to write it. But I want to read the article.

2. I'm nearing the end of my guitar lessons. It's been great. And I've loved them. But I need to proactively start thinking about a house. I need to put that $100-$125 a month aside and focus on a down payment for a house.

3. I'm proactively thinking about buying a house one day.

4. One late night a few weeks back, I stumbled across Bridget Jones' Diary. I love this movie. I adore Renee Zellweger in this one role. I love Darcy. I love Hugh Grant as Wick.. I mean Daniel. It amused me to no end that Gauis Baltar or James Callis as he is known when not on Battlestar Galactica is in this movie as Tom.
But as I watched the ending, I got angry. Specifically angry with Darcy. When I first read the book I was about 21 and I thought Bridget was ridiculous. I could not stand her. She was everything that was wrong with how women were perceived. Then I watched the movie when I was about 24 and I thought, hmm... there's something here. I mean, yeah, she's ridiculous. But I have had those nights singing aloud in my home holding a bottle of vodka. And each time I've re-watched it, I've found something to relate to. The career blundering. The ridiculous flirtations at work. The concerns about what my place in this world is. The attempt to reconcile familial insanity with own insanity. The failure to live up to familial expectations. The movie has grown on me.
Except, well, I got angry a few weeks back. Why? Mark Darcy read Bridget Jones' diary. He reads her diary. That's just wrong. It's reprehensible really. And, previously when watching I was just like Bridget - "Oh noesss... I can't believe it. He read her diary. And she said all those awful things about him. I hope she catches up to him and they can have a romantic kiss in the street." But this time around I thought - "Who the fuck does he think he is? Just picking up her diary and reading it like that? What the hell?"
It seems so basic. We have diaries or journals. They are private. Yes, my blog is a journal of sorts. But I've chosen to make it public. And as such there is a lot edited out. I don't give my inner most thoughts here. Those are in my journal. Which sits by my bed on my bedside table. Those thoughts are for me and for me alone. Maybe one day when I am long dead and gone, someone can find some cultural significance. But really, I'm not that opposed to the Jane Austen family tradition of burning letters and journals upon death. If anyone were to read my journal without my permission, I would feel so violated. Even if that person was Colin Firth. Even if that person turned out to be my very own Darcy (although frankly I may be holding out for a Captain Wentworth these days), I'd be hurt. And angry. And would probably run out into the street to find him. But not for a romantic kiss in the street. I'd confront him about how angry I was.

This was my big revelation about Bridget Jones' Diary this summer. I'll probably continue to watch the movie whenever I stumble across it. And maybe I'll ignore this minor moment of irateness. It was late at night after all. But for now, it's a little less than awesome.

5. While I understand the cultural significance of Michael Jackson dying, I'm a bit dismayed at how much media coverage has been taken up by it. His memorial service was one of the main stories on tonight's NBC news with Brian Williams. The 3-4 minute segment came right before a one minute blurb about US soldiers dying in a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. That turned my stomach a bit.

6. I am thinking about buying red lipstick. But I don't know if I can pull it off.

7. I love listening to Todd Snider.

and lastly, 8. I need a vacation. Badly.

Unexpected

It's well established that I enjoy the soccer. That's not a shock to anyone. I also really enjoy it when teams I like win. And even better than that is when the team I like has a hard luck story.

Like, say, the only way the team can advance to the next round of a tournament is through math and goal differential. And that happens. Yeah, its exciting. Unlikely as can be. But it is exciting when that happens. But it rarely happens.

And it never happens that I can recall with US Men's National Team (USMNT for short). But it did with the Confederations Cup this past week. And even more improbable than beating Egypt by 3 to advance is beating their semi-final opponent. That opponent is Spain. About to set a record for most games won Spain. Spain that has not lost a game since 2006. FIFA ranked #1 Spain. That Spain.

And the USMNT did it. Thanks to great defense (I have such love for Jay DeMerit now - who knew?) and two goals from Jozy Altidore and Clint Dempsey.

I am happy. I haven't stopped smiling. It's nice to support a team that wins. I'm getting a little superstitous about Sunday's final against either Brazil or South Africa.

I have nothing to add. My love for Clint Dempsey runs wild. I can't explain it. I have loved him since the 2006 World Cup. I tried to see him play with the Revs twice and he was suspended for both matches. That made me sad.

But here's old school Clint Dempsey. It's ridiculous. And I love it.

Ritual

Like clockwork, I started my Todd Snider summertime obsession. Every year about this time, I start to think about sitting on wraparound porches, sipping sweet tea and listening exclusively to Todd Snider. He comforts me. Especially when I'm stressed.

And lately, work has been crazy. Home has been crazy. And my mind is just out of control. So to calm myself, I pop in Todd Snider and smile. His drawl causes a grin. His lyrics make me laugh. And he's kinda fun. He just seems like someone that would be fun to hang out with and spend time. He's just a great storyteller.

Anywhere... here is a song from Todd Snider's album. It's a great story. I've been listening to it on repeat here at work as I sip on some sweet tea and look out my window at a currently not raining sky.