Jozy Jozy Jozy!

He had one heckuva goal Saturday night.





vote for him here

Earth Day 2008

Well, I've done my part, bringing this little bevy* of beauty to the circus on this day ten years ago - (insert photo of Josephine here when blogger decides to cooperate)

And that's not all. I bought a reusable grocery bag. I can't remember to take it shopping, and maybe I need to get 12, but that's really a whole 'nother issue. When my mighty mighty Maytag bit the dust, I replaced it with a water-conservative front loader. I've been walking the half mile to the post office and I've been replacing light bulbs all over the house with the CFL ones as the standard ones burn out. In the bathroom, in the kitchen, in the bedrooms, etc.

How about you?

Confession: I don't care for the light that the CFL bulbs cast. It's cold and sterile and has the ambiance of a gynecological exam. I succumbed to the Dark Side in Walmart a few weeks ago. I bought an incandescent 3-way bulb for my reading lamp.

And I find myself worshipping that glorious warm golden light.

Years from now, when Antartica has melted, when the corn fields of the midwest are a barren dust bowl, when the only kind of tomato you can buy has been grown hydroponically, incandescent light bulbs will be outlawed. And only outlaws will have incandescent bulbs.








*shoutout to Elvis, not calling my youngest schizophrenic at all.

You Inspire Me...

It's Good Friday and we should be inspired. And music always does that for me.

Ok, full disclosure: I appropriated ('stole' is such an ugly word) this idea just before I went vacationing. I gave it some thought as we descended into L. A. - that's Lower Alabama for you travel freaks - I even managed to make a note or two on the back of our License Plate Game list, but I failed to follow up after 6 days of sun and fun.

My bad.

What does inspiration mean anyway? Merriam-Webster kind of wusses out, saying it 'moves the intellect or emotions.' Litter bugs move my emotions, but I'm not sure I'd say I'm inspired by them. So, I want to add a little asterisk to that: *in a good way. Which is to say, the music of Billy Joel moves me to madness, but I can certainly, unequivocally, forever and ever, live without it. (And with a bit of luck, I will!)

So, these are three songs that inspire me.

1. Bob Marley (or Joe Strummer) - Redemption Song. Yes, I know that's soooo condescending of me - what do I have in common with oppressed Rastafarians, I hear you ask. Well, not a lot. I am of the female working persuasion, so I know a tiny bit about The Man. But what I draw from this song is a transcendent hope, that justice will eventually be served, especially if we work together.

2. Rancid - Radio. I've been dull and boring about this song before, so I'll try to keep this brief. Never fell in love til I fell in love with you; never knew what a good time was til I had a good time with you. It's about finding community, finding connections, finding kin in a hostile world.

and finally....

3. John Prine - Sweet Revenge. Because a girl has to be true to herself above all things. I'll keep looking for the youtube.

Soccer Saturday: Heartburn! Nausea! Indigestion!

But at least I didn't have my head up Saragosa's ass.

Or did I?

I had MY evening planned out one week in advance. San Ho and Chicag-o at 4:30 as a little snack. The Columbus/Chivas clash at 7:30 to get me hungry for the main course: Red Bulls at Dallas.

At least that's how it was supposed to work. Best laid plans, etc., etc. We had a friend in town. Who wanted to take us out to dinner (hence all these menu metaphors). It was a mighty conflict. On the one hand, soccer. On the other, dinner out. I get asked out to dinner twice a year, on my birthday and Mother's Day (and I generally say no to that one, because the kids - who are after all the reason I am a mother - are not invited). But of course, it was just assumed that I would be happy to go, and drive, to boot! This is where the indigestion comes in. I internalized the debate, rather than stand my indecisive ground - which is handy. You don't have to commit, so you can bitch about it either way. We were to meet at 8, smack dab in the middle of prime soccer, and they were late. At 8:15 I called Austin and asked him to record the Red Bulls. AT 8:45, when our host began calling the waiter 'bubbe', I gave up on live soccer.

Because sometimes life just throws you under the Experience Train, whether you wanna go or not. And this was an experience, fer sure.

I have never been in a more schizophrenic restaurant. I won't name names, because I actually feel pity for them. They're trying their best, after all, in their own peculiar way. I'm no decorator. I won't pretend to have Michelin credentials. But I'm not naming names, so that forgives a lot of mockery.

Three Points to Ponder:

1. Wait staff in black and white - good. Candles and cloth napkins but no table cloths? - bad. Very bad. Silk flowers instead of genuine? Worse. A pianist playing a Billy Joel medley? Hein-ous.

2. There's a difference between a vaulted ceiling and an indoor basketball court. Also, lights should flatter, not terrify!

3. Steak tips with peppers and onions are meant to be served ON a bed of rice, not beside it. And medium should have a bit of pink.

Two Strikes Against:

1. It took 20 minutes to get a beer. And a) there were about 7 people in this entire restaurant (including staff) and b) we were staring at the bartender as she dawdled and loafed. Our waiter, bless his heart, stood by the table and 'tried to get her attention', which I guess is the polite way to say 'tried to get her to move her ass.'

2. The 3 Points to Ponder above mean you ain't gonna charge me $18.99 for steak tips and a companion bowl of rice twice. In this case, not even once. Thanks, M!


The Straw That Broke This Camel's Back

They had a tv. But it was on freakin' HOCKEY. Hockey! That's just cold, man. Cold.

Feeling Wild and ...

speculative!



Let's play Foretell the Futbol.*



This Year's Brad Guzan, being all underpaid and over-acheiving: Will Hesmer. 2 games, 2 stopped penalties. Color me impressed, Ricky Bobby.




This Year's David Beckham, the Guy I Most Wanna See on a Wheaties Box: Duilio Davino. Watch this and see if you don't want to head right on over to Dick's and stalk the fitting rooms.




The Clint Mathis All That and a Bag of Chips Award, for the player most likely to succeed in spite of himself: Santino Quaranta. I'm not the only one who thinks so, proving once again that great minds think alike. Or that idiots run in herds. You decide.




Giddy Guesses and Indiscriminate Prognostications: Golden Boot - Christian Gomez. Who says he's not worth a 2 year extension? Supporters Shield will go to ... Kansas City! Houston will have a problem, and will not Threepeat. The Red Bulls, and I'm sober as I write this, will take home some hardware, either Open Cup or MLS Cup. Maybe both!

Stay tuned.






*version español.

Hitchcock|Lowe|Costello @ Grand Ballroom

Hitchcock|Lowe|Costello @ Grand Ballroom
Originally uploaded by sketchguy

Color me sick. Color me green. Color me having little pangs that feel a little like regret for living in The Sticks.

Nick Lowe, Elvis Costello and Robyn Hitchcock. On one stage. Ok, don't know RH enough to be thrilled at him, but jeez louise - Elvis AND Nick? My heart might not be able to take it, but I'd sure like to try.

Yeeeeeee Haaaaaaawwwwwwwww!!!

Red Bulls 2, Columbus Crew 0. Osorio becomes the first coach in team history to open with a win. I don't want to get crazy confident (because after all, this is *still* the team formerly known as the Metrostars), but maybe the spell is broken.

Anyway, it was a long cool drink of water - nay! a case of really nice beer - maybe some of that Sam Adams October brew - after an arid desert of soccer that was RBNY-less. (In case you're wondering - and maybe you aren't - I'm trying to set a personal best in dashes today). There's the ole turf still there, hopefully for the last season. There's the TV people and Giants stadium people doing something like cooperating by putting ALL the fans together, more or less, instead of allowing them to randomly dot the seats in the stadium. Good crowd, good crowd noise. FSC had Christopher Sullivan (yay!) and Max Bretos (boo!) - but I'll give Bretos a half a thumbs up just for the game show host enthusiasm he brings to every game. Please consult the game guides provided by the league, Max. They include pronunciation guides!

But honestly, I can't complain. It was Old Home Week, or something virtual-ly like it. Damn, I'm glad it's back.

I Am Here to Live Out Loud

Emile Zola had the right idea. Easier said than done however. My life sometimes feels like the Talking Heads song Once In A Lifetime, in the 'my god, what have I done?' and 'same as it ever was' refrains. But today is better than yesterday, Rock Bottom has a population of 4 now - the more the merrier, I suppose. But to keep us (the Rock Bottomites) on the straight and narrow, let's take to heart the immortal words of Rockpile and never be a fool too long again.

Check out how Nick doesn't play that acoustic.

It's Robbie Fulks Day!

I am having one of those days. You know the kind, where you're just one step behind everybody else, where you're just not quite in sync with The Real World. There I was thinking I was being witty, charming and sociable, and apparently I was being boring, obnoxious and loud. Only not loud enough, because no one seemed to hear me. It was like waking up naked in your backyard with an empty bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand, a strange pair of boxers in the other and a meter reader peering over the neighbor's fence. Ok, maybe not that bad, but certainly one of those god-what-was-I-thinking moments, only without the excuse of alcohol. Friends, never let your ego tell you what to do.

Anyway, here I am in Rock Bottom, population 1. Well, 2 if you count Robbie. Spent a few minutes (hours) on youtube hunting up good stuff for you.




Don't forget that I'm Countrier Than Thou...



Holla if you out there, people!

Did You Miss Me?

What?

You didn't notice I was AWOL?


That's cold.


Anyway, I am back from vacation with a few thoughts. Thoughts may be too strong a word. Nebulous, fuzzy impressions maybe?

First off, USA 3, Poland 0. RESULT! Ok, it's just a friendly. Ok, Poland had a lot of youth and inexperience on their side. But, woo! hoo! Big ups, handsome fellers!


I am liking the red and grayish black.

Next thing of note: MLS is back, baby!

What, you hadn't noticed it missing either? Cold, man. Cold.

Some interesting results, the most surprising (or embarrassing?) was Colorado Rapids 4, L.A. Galaxy zilch. It was the altitude. Altitude! Not the defense. Because L.A. didn't actually *play* any defense. Kansas City 2, D.C. 0. I thought this was being played in D.C. in the Nationals'-vacated and reconfigured RFK - the field looked tiny. I wuz wrong. Played in KC at something called Community America Ballpark. Someone might want to get them to point the cameras toward the crowd next time, not to the vacant lot opposite. New England 3, reigning MLS champions the Houston Dynamo, a very pathetically played 0. My favorite result (because the Red Bulls were not playing), Columbus Crew 2, FC Toronto 0. I really wanted to see this one, but traveling kept me from it. Looked like a fabulous atmosphere. How 'bout those Canucks? They get around. There they were in Charleston with us a few weeks ago ( a smaller contingent, yes) and, presto chango! there they are by the hundreds(?) in Columbus. Homeland Security might want to be checking them out.

Non-soccer related observations: I love love love writing with Flairs. It's been a long time since I wrote much more than a grocery list with a pen, and during our highly competitive game of License Plates, I was just amazed watching my pen move across the page making blue letters out of thin air - it was like *I* was the cursor or something. Magic!

Also noted: this was the first vacation I can ever remember that kind of went by slo-mo. NOT because it was spent with A LOT of family members, and not slo-mo in an unpleasant way. It was relaxed with shape - enough structure to keep everybody happy, plenty of room for Plan B.

Wish I was back on it.

But, I'm back and back at it. And this is the proof. ;)

Carolina Challenge Cup, Part Dos

We had a couple of hours to kill post-checkout and pre-game, so we took it to the streets of Charleston.

Embarrassing admission #1: I thought that pink building behind my beautiful children was The Citadel. Nope, it's an Embassy Suites look-a-like. My bad.

Embarrassing admission #2: We had no clue where we were or where we were going, but we were *near* the battery (if 10 blocks counts as "near"). We parked at the Visitor Center and visited a bit - and you had to stand in line to ask a question!!! Then we took off down the street looking for the ocean. Well, we saw a lot of homeless people, a lot of expensive stores, a bunch of dogs being walked, a gazillion old bricks, but no ocean. We did find another Red Bull fan/employee outside a wonderfully aromatic cafe (too aromatic for the rest of the Jenkins Five, but full disclosure compels me to say it's usually me being gastronomically unadventurous). But it was fun. And that's the important thing.

Thing to Be Proud of #1: We were on time to that game. We even had time to pee before kick-off.

The Red Bulls did not have a whole lot to be proud of, all things considered. A 1-1 tie with a USL team that has just 2 weeks of training compared with, what? six for the RB? That's an eep. A lot of bad passes, some questionable movement, a shoe lost here, a temper lost there. It is my biased opinion that these things will work themselves out before the season begins.

Embarrassing admission #3: it never really occurred to me to sit on the other side. Looks like we could have had the run of the place. But we went back to the general Row R (that does not actually exist) vincinity, and the older three of us got sunburned for our trouble. But if you go here and click on "watch" March 16, you can see the nebulous blob that is me and the fam left of center just above a blue MUSC sign.

I was certainly impressed with JPA's skill, but I was even more delighted to see some of my faves: Jeff Parke, Carlos Mendes, Seth Stammler. And a lot of faces we didn't know. We did figure out Sinisa Ubiparipovic, who came out at half time to warm up and looked in our direction when I attempted to pronounce his name. And there was this other guy who kept running around the field, looking ridiculously familiar...

Eric Brunner, RBNY's #1 draft pick. D'oh!! My bad again - it's Chris Leitch!! So maybe I'm not the most knowledgeable fan. I hope they appreciated my applause and stand-stomping when they scored, and my chagrin when they were almost immediately scored upon. It's hard out there for a soccer mom. But I'm happy to know that the Charleston Battery was showing me the love.

Carolina Challenge Cup, Part One

It was a dark and stormy night...

Well, it didn't start out that way, but that's how the first night of the Carolina Challenge Cup ended.

We were just a little late. Maybe five minutes and it was all the fault of Sticky Fingers - I have never seen an empty restaurant be so slow. And, according to Austin, the ribs weren't all that. So, the game is already in progress as we step up the metal ramp into the stands and I find myself in one of those Twilight Zone kind of moments: there in front of me, looking slimmer than I thought he was but taller at the same time, is Danny Dichio, Toronto F. C.'s (English) version of the Tasmanian Devil. It was a low-key OMG moment, all puzzled recognition slapped upside the head by deflating reality check. It's ONLY Danny Dichio, after all. But ladies, he's well worth a gander. And the rest of the Toronto/San Jose game was like that - 'hey, there's Joe Cannon!' 'Isn't that Ned Grabavoy?' 'That guy from Kansas City...Nick...Gonzalez? no, Garcia!' The stadium was not even the size of my kids' high school football stadium. Literally, there were many moments I could have touched these guys. And you could hear every R-rated word they said. I know that makes me sound all stupid fan-girl, but it was cool. Like sticking my head inside my television or something.

And no hallucinogenics were involved.

San Jose was winning 1-0 when the game was called for lightning. Red Bulls/Charleston was postponed until 3 P. M. Sunday, so we Plan B'd it, and stayed a little longer than we planned.


More on that next post!

Some Random Photos

They were having a sale. Well, not really, but I hadn't seen these before.


The Hunchback of Craven Cottage!




What the heck are they looking at?

We *Can* Be Heroes

Thanks, David Bowie.

Yes, we can be heroes, even if we didn't much look like them Thursday night. USA 1, Panama nada. It wasn't pretty but it was 3 points.

Random observations (and, truly, are there any other kind?)

1. Eddie Gaven played well. The facial hair is not working for him however.


2. Christopher Sullivan wins the My Mood Swings Favorite Soccer Announcer Award. I find his comments as intriguing as his accent. And he wasn't doing the game last night. Let's just say, well, if you can't say something nice...Ah-do. EEE-do. Please learn the difference before the next game, Christian Miles. It was like being trapped in the Letterman Oscar joke-gone-bad (Oprah, Uma - remember that?)

3. Can we get some decent seamstresses working on these uniforms? Look at those patches. They look photo-shopped!

Saturday is the final game of the group round - we play Honduras. I'll be there in spirit only, because, well, I'll be over in South Carolina watching Jozy's regular gig at the Carolina Challenge Cup.

Go, me!

The Cubans! The Cubans!

(one of the few Seinfeld episodes I do recall)

Seven Cuban soccer players, including these two pictured, have gone missing, which presents their team with one heckuva dilemma tonight. They had 18 players here. Seven have checked out and one is serving a red card suspension so he won't be eligible for tonight's game. My math is lousy, but I figure they've got 10 players available, which is one less than the 11 *usually* started. If they have to drop out of the tournament, how will that affect the group standings?

Per Fox News (I always read that "News" as "Poetic License")team official Luis Hernandez, when asked how the team planned to handle the situation Wednesday (before the news of the other 2 disappearances), said, "Win - with the five, without the five - win."

Update: My math was good, but my starting number was faulty - according to their official CONCACAF roster, the Cubans brought 19 players. They will have just enough to play as long as nobody else takes a long walk or gets injured.

Update Again! They play with 10, and lose 0-2.

Drinking Rum and Coca Cola

Might have been a better idea than watching out U-23s play Cuba last night. Cuba Libres certainly would have eased my pain because it was my fault. I have to own up to it. After Freddy put in that first goal early on, I said we're gonna get at least 3, maybe 5 or 6!!! I was that excited. But it was not to be, and a disappointing 1-1 tie has everybody expecting *major* improvements Thursday evening. When life gives you lemons, when there's no where to go but UP, etc., insert cheesy stiff-upper-lip metaphor here.


Three bright spots:

1) Dax McCarty. I don't remember him playing all that much or all that well for Dallas. He looked confident, energetic AND consistent.




2) Hunter Freeman. Worked his babushka off. Jozy Altidore gets all the kudos, but I am so glad HF's a Red Bull.















3) Sacha Kljestan (doing the hokey-pokey, left). Honestly, the game changed when he came in. Freddy is the obvious MOTM, but Mr. Kljestan's a close second.










Bring on Thursday. Bring us redemption.

Water, Water Everywhere!

And not a drop to drink! I have read about pharmaceuticals causing bizarre wildlife mutations and disease (inter-sex fish? vultures with kidney failure?), but I had not made the mental leap to these drugs being in the water *I* drink. Best reason yet to drink bottled water (assuming it's not actually tap water!) or other beverages...

Watersheds are big news in East Tennessee this week. At least the signs for them are. TDOT and the Department of Environment and Conservation have partnered up to create awareness of one of Tennessee's most valuable resources - our watersheds. I saw my first one while tooling westbound down I-40 on March 1: Now entering Holston Watershed. I state this to make one thing clear: I saw it before Sam Venable did. Go, me.

Photo forthcoming.

This Just In...

The Olympic Qualifying roster has been set. And it was out yesterday, but darn the bad luck, I didn't venture into cyberspace at all. Obviously, the lack of Feilhaber-ness is disturbing, but I'm hoping that means good things for Benito - like some PT at Derby. And two of my faves, Jozy Altidore and Eddie Gaven feature, so, yay! And it begins tomorrow, so double yay! Confession: the EPL is a substitute for MLS, but it's not a very good one for me. God knows I've tried to get interested, I've put forth effort, but it just ain't taking. And it seems like eons since the MLS Cup. This U-23 tournament is a nice little h'ouerve d'oeurve appetizer before the MLS banquet begins. To continue the metaphor (because I'm hungry, go figure!) next week's Carolina Cup would be the soup course; opening weekend a really delicious salad; this summer would be the main course - something hearty and filling - and then the playoffs and championship the dessert.







And here's wishing these two little cupcakes and the whole team good luck.

I set a new Personal Best

in weird and wacky dreams.

Sometime during the lovely quicksandish sleep I get between the moment my husband's alarm clock sounds and he gets up (shaking the bed like a series of minor earthquakes) and the moment my own alarm clock erupts, I had the most peculiar dream.

I dreamed I had another baby, which is impossible enough, but then this particular baby was actually a hamster.

And I named her Linda.

So what does all this have to do with the bathing beauty screen right?

He - Cristiano Ronaldo, Manchester United's version of Jesus - was in the dream, too. At some strange and marvelous water park where I took Linda. And I asked him if he would go home to Spain or to Brazil (he's from neither). He took offense, not because I failed to realize he was Portuguese, but because, as he said, he was going home. To New York. Because he was American.

Let that prove prophetic. Let him one day (and before he's washed up, please Jesus) be a New York Red Bull.

The Carolina Challenge Cup is Calling Yooouuuuu!*

Kick off is 6 p.m. Saturday March 15th, and I am stoked.

These are my tickets. I keep looking at them, admiring them, touching them. I have traversed the long desolate expanse of the Off Season and reached soccer nirvana - well, the MLS version anyhoo. Like a plant drawn toward the sun's rays, I am drawn to the beacon of pre-season action in Charleston.

Have I mentioned it's a bargain? Sure, they aren't *real* games, but I WE get to see two of them. For $25 each. Stick that on your grill and smoke it, NFL. The new and improved San Jose (argh) v. Toronto, and the fabulous Red Bulls v. the Charleston Battery.

Let's go, Metros!






*a little shout-out to the long defunct Porpoise Island.