Let me begin by saying that I love World Cup Soccer. I wait for it, I become fiercely patriotic during it, I loathe the last day of it because it means four more years before the next one. That said, I do have a few complaints.
1. The Vuvuzelas. It's almost universal: everyone hates the ridiculous horns except the South Africans. Fine. Blow your horns. But know: the world is annoyed. Nice going, South Africa, you found something more annoying to the world than apartheid. Not a small feat.
2. The dives. The flops. The players groping at their forehead when they've been struck on the shoulder. The player grabbing his shin in agony after a mere brush with an opponent. Those players should be embarrassed, and their countrymen should be embarrassed. Soccer, or futbol, is known as "the beautiful game," and most of the time it is. But these theatrics, these shameless acts, these cowardly plunges only serve to humiliate the players and the game. By my tally, the Portuguese are the worst. The Italians shouldn't be proud. And the Argentinians need to sack up. I'm also a fan of American Football, and I can't imagine such unsportsmanlike behavior tolerated in that sport; those men take licks on every play and pop back up. So come on, world. If soccer is the world's game, soccer players need to stop the diving . See link: http://www.miamiherald.com/2010/06/16/1684905/downfall-or-great-fake-soccer.html (By the way, the Americans have been extremely noble in this regard. Cheers to our boys).
3. That goal that was robbed from the US vs. Slovenia. Come on!
4. This world cup Adidas ball (say Ah-dee-das). How many times are we going to see a shot sail 20 feet over the goal? These guys are the best in the world, and they (mostly) miss the target (the goal) by huge margins. I played soccer growing up. When you shoot, hit the target, or get close. These guys are all over the place. For the sake of soccer talent world-wide, I hope it's the ball. Otherwise these douchers need a simple lesson: 100% of extremely wide or tall shots will never score a goal. Put the ball on goal to have a chance.
I don't mean to complain; as I said, I love the world cup. We should be proud of our boys. But don't blow the vuvuzela, you just sound like a jackass.
We saw "Exit Through the Gift Shop" at Sundance. Great documentary about street art. A must see. Funny, provocative, we couldn't stop talking about it.
Then onto a relaxing evening on the patio with our knuckleheads. (In photo: Bee, Clark, and, if you look closely, Ella, all staring down some mo-fo neighbor who had the nerve to walk their dog down our street. They better know their gang signs, or one of these bad-asses might pop a cap in that ass. Apologies for the language. Don't hate the player, hate the game.)
It wasn't sunny but it was warm, and the rain had stopped. We each voted on "Madison's Favorites" in the
Isthmus Readers Poll and compared our answers.
Mojitos. I love the smell of mint.
After a long while out on the patio, we made Dinner. Marr Family Farm Beef Tenderloin (on the grill-- all the better because the meat is local and grass-fed and purchased at the farmer's market), smothered with sauce made of white wine vinegar,
olive oil, cilantro, chives (from the
garden), and shallots. The steaks were perfect.
Smashed red potatoes from the DCFM (Dane County Farmer's Market) with Clairee's homemade butter and rosemary. And yes, the butter was actually made by Clairee.
Yum. All in all, a pretty good day.
(Update: Skeptical dog is still skeptical of cats intentions. See photo).
It’s been a little while since I’ve posted anything beyond pictures, and I apologize for that.I was out of town, in Washington DC (or, more correctly, northern Virginia) and Clairee was in New York City.Anyway, for now I’d like to write a post about the beginning of summer. . .
As we all know, summer doesn’t officially begin until June 20th, or sometimes June 21st:the Summer Solstice.That date marks the time of year when the Sun shines down on us from its northernmost perch in the sky, or, for some of us, the time of year when Zelgourd the fire god races his fire boat through the cloud world above our flat earth and chases out the evil spirits of winter.Don’t judge me.(In any case, it’s more plausible than dinosaurs and modern humans co-existing, or “intelligent design”).For Claire and me, however, summer begins Memorial Day weekend.We haven’t discussed that assertion, but it is my decree, and we will honor it from now on (with Claire-belle’s blessing, of course).
We had a fantastic weekend, a weekend so good we couldn’t even squeeze it into a normal sized Saturday/Sunday weekend.Instead it ballooned out ostentatiously, and became a weekend that started on Thursday and didn’t end until Tuesday.It was a fat weekend, or maybe even a “phat” weekend, I’m still not sure how to use that word.It was like we had to use a shoehorn to fit everything in.Here’s how it went:
Thursday evening we went down to Café Zoma on the Eastside, which I had never been to before.My friends from Cali would feel right at home—this place is right out of Mendocino, or maybe Berkeley.Beautiful outdoor seating area, almost like a park, great atmosphere inside, and hippies everywhere.And the weather was perfect: clear, warm, sunny.Gorgeous.Claire was inside with my Mom and their knitting friends, I sat outside and read.After that, we (Claire, me, my Mom) went down to Café Costa Rica and sat outside.Reggae was playing, the temperature was just right, the food was delicious, and the conversation kept us there for a long while.As it turned out, the sustenance gained from this excursion proved to be essential for making it through the weekend healthy and alive, though we didn’t know it at the time.There’s actually no evidence for that claim, but I stand by it.
Friday consisted of a movie with J (Ironman 2, do not see it, it’s horrible), then meeting up with Clairee for some sushi at the always delicious Muramoto, which, incidentally, is also the site of the first date Claire and I went on.But enough about Friday.
Saturday Claire and I got up late and went to the farmer’s market, which was nice except we got there too late so the Capital square was packed beyond belief.You have to get to the farmer’s market at about 7:00 am if you don’t want to slowly lumber around the square, like a herd of cattle to headed for the slaughter.I can only make it around ¾ of the market when we get there that late before I lose patience and start to drown in the heat and body odor (which is mostly imagined), so we didn’t get too much there.We did get a strawberry plant which is currently producing delicious, succulent berries for our consumption.(No strawberries for you unless you’re nice and visit us).
Later, we took the Bee (our dog, Beetle) to Lake Kegansa, which boasts a pet swim area in a state park.It was my first time there, and I’m sure we’ll be back.We packed a picnic (here I should mention that I failed at picking out good salads), had some drinks (here I should point out that Claire made some bizarre concoction consisting of a gewürztraminer—from Mendocino—and some liquidy homemade raspberry sorbet, mixed on site), and played around in the cool, refreshing water (finally, here I should mention that yes, our Beetle is quite a swimmer.Handsome, graceful, “a natural”).It was hot, probably in the high 80s, and the park is lush and green with a lot of space to relax in the shade between trips to the water to wade in and let Beetle fetch his new Frisbee.Unfortunately all the sun and playing wore us out, and so the trip to the lake pretty much consumed our day.We crashed on the couch for the rest of the evening.
Then came Sunday.Thankfully, we were able to sleep in again.Jason didn’t have that opportunity, as he was running a ¼ marathon that day, beginning at 7am or some such crazy-ass hour on a humid, hot Sunday.We would have liked to be there to watch him cross the finish line, but apparently we liked the idea of sleeping in just a little more.While he was actually running in the race, I was stretching in my patented Hussein Bolt style (see picture:that’s the move I do when I stretch in the morning).My cousin Katie ran a half marathon that day too, and her parents, who double as my Godparents, had a great cook-out to celebrate the accomplishment of all the runners we knew.The food was excellent, especially 2 parts of it:the brats, by Eddie, and the chocolate-chip bars, by Mary.And I can honestly say that while Eddie was merely mediocre as a host, which is an improvement for him, Mary more than made up for it. To his credit, Eddie regaled us with stories that were, though hilarious, most likely invented out of whole cloth.(I kid Eddie because he’s a very good golfer and when we played later that week it was embarrassing for me to be so awful at golf, playing alongside someone with real skill). A great time was had by all.You would think that about this time Claire and I might be wrapping it up and heading home, but no:we headed down to the union that afternoon.The union was absolutely packed, (the union, for my friends outside of Madison, consists of a large terrace alongside Lake Mendota where beer is served, bands play, and students and other Madisonians come to enjoy the lake and the weather—see picture).We ordered a beer and then, almost on a whim, texted a friend of ours who is an avid sailor.By sheer luck, he texted back that he was meeting some other friend in 20 minutes at the dock, and we were welcome to come along.We accepted.
So we met our friend Eduardo at the dock, and then proceeded to accompany him and his three Lebonese friends out onto the lake on a sail boat, and spent the afternoon cruising around, swimming, and just plain relaxing in the sun on the lake.The national championship for college sailboat racing happened to be going on, and we cruised around the race area for a closer look.I love being out on the lake—this may be my summer to learn how to sail.More on that later.
After a few hours of meandering around Lake Mendota on the will of the wind we made our way back, at which time we were invited to play some sand volleyball.We only had a couple hours of daylight left, but those that know me know that I cannot turn down beach volleyball, so Claire and I went out, and we played until the sun went down.
I’m hurrying up the summary of our Memorial day weekend now because this post is getting very long, and it’s no doubt getting very boring.I should have just said:we had a great Memorial day weekend, the first weekend of the summer for us.But I didn’t.Praise Zelgourd, I didn’t, and lucky you for that.I feel I have to end this now, but I would be remiss in not at least mentioning that our weekend did spill over into the next few days.We had a wonderful time and great food and company at Claire’s parents on Monday (a description that doesn’t do the trip justice), and a fun cook-out and volleyball match on Tuesday.This post is too long, so cheers for now.
I hope if dogs ever take over the world, and they chose a king, they don't just go by size, because I bet there are some Chihuahuas with some good ideas.
As most of you probably already know, Karl and I have recently put in our first garden together - yay! (Thanks to my parents for all the hard work - I owe you!)
So everything was going pretty well until . . . . we had our first bunny invasion.
Those. Darn. Bunnies. They look so cute and adorable. Sometimes I see them and think that I wouldn't mind having a sweet little bunny of my
own to cuddle with. But then they go and devour all of our vegetable plants in the garden! They mostly nibbled on the peppers and they ate half of two strawberries. Why can't they just eat a whole strawberry instead of ruining two? They really do love the peppers. Their favorite one also happened to be Karl's favorite too. (coincidence that he was born in the year of the rabbit? We're not sure yet.)
Well, we went and bought some fencing like everyone had told us to do. Turns out bunnies can walk right through the fencing we picked out. We're hoping it will act as a deterrent and that we have lazy bunnies living near us that won't want to take the extra effort to hop through our fence. Or maybe that we have a morbidly obese family of bunnies that won't be able to fit through our fence.
Another tip we had was to sprinkle dog or cat hair in the garden. We also sprinkled cayenne pepper on the plants. The problem with the cayenne is that you have to re apply every time it rains. And, if you're sprinkling cayenne on an edible piece of the plant then you had better be washing that plant before you eat it. We tried planting onions throughout the garden, I heard they don't like the smell of onions. Oh, and we put a separate circle of fence just around Karl's poor hot pepper plant. Hopefully it will still be able to make it.
The stinky spray. Karl bought an organic spray that smells really bad so that the bunnies don't want to come near the garden. Well guess what, it make me not want to come near the garden either. And I definitely don't want to spray it on anything that I'm going to be putting in my mouth either. It smells so bad. Garlic, onion, and dried blood. No, I don't know what kind of dried blood. It just says dried blood. That is some S-T-I-N-K-Y spray!
The combination of all these things has been working but we still see bunnies hanging out around the garden when we come home. We're open to suggestions from anyone. Karl came up with a couple of interesting solutions :
"In the new Terminator movie I think there was a gun that responded to movement and destroyed anything it sensed in a fury of bullets and blood. Can we get one?" "Can we put Ella out in the garden all night?"
Another one of his ideas had something to do with hanging a dismembered bunny carcass on the garden fencing. "As a warning."
