no chip

I don't follow sports -- any sports -- not even a little.

Still, I couldn't help reading about the unfortunate Danish soccer player who, during one of the recent World Cup games, deflected the ball into his own team's goal, scoring a crucial point for the opposing team.

Which, in turn, made me think of that most infamous of all auto-goals, when, during 1994 World Cup play, Colombian soccer player Andrés Escobar knocked the ball into the wrong goal, resulting in the elimination of Colombia's team from the tournament.

And, ten days later, resulting also in the elimination of Escobar himself, executed outside a Medellín bar by a killer (presumably hired by drug lords who'd lost bets on the match) who shot Escobar 12 times, shouting "Goal!" as he fired each bullet.

In other words, things could be worse. Much, much worse.

What auto-goals (real or metaphorical) have you been scoring lately?

Or, to pose a somewhat less fraught question, do you follow sports? and if so, which ones?

kinda like a silver sixpence

Not feeling real hopey changey today.

However (or maybe that should be: therefore) here's my submission for Calliope's Photo Friday.

The theme is shoes. The plastic snakes were entirely my own idea.

breaking even

In the comments to the last post, someone said something to the effect that she felt sorry for Niobe because she (meaning Niobe, since I'm too lazy to rework the sentence to tidy up the pronouns) was so very, very sad.

My immediate and all-too-predictable reaction: introspection expressed through imaginary italics. Am I sad? Am I sad? Am I sad?

I suppose that if you can manage to put the chronic mild dysthymia to one side, I'm just about as happy as I've ever been. Maybe even happier than that. The dead baby thing? History. Ancient history.

Still, as anyone who's read this blog for any length of time knows, there's something, y'know, there. A long, long time ago, my wonderful, perfect best friend started dating my wonderful, perfect boyfriend. They got married and have a big house in the suburbs and a dog and a cat and two adorable children. I haven't seen or spoken with either of them in years.

Have I moved on? Of course I have. But sometimes I don't think I've moved on quite far enough. I was reading a letter sent to an advice column and it sounded awfully familiar. All the responses say the same thing: therapy, self-esteem, a life well lived. And while I'm nodding my head, a whiny little voice keeps saying that they just don't -- won't -- can't -- understand.

Put it this way: you also can't step out of the same river twice. Sometimes you can't even step out of it once.

I think about them every day. Sarah. Steve. Steve. Sarah. I don't want them back, but I can't seem to let them go.

feeding frenzy

It's the moment you've all been waiting for: Niobe's (mostly) anonymous confessions!

Before we start, let's just stipulate that we all know that the right answer -- no matter what the question -- is always going to be something along the lines of You just need to do what's right for you and your family. Kumbaya. (((big group huuuug)))

But, really, what fun is that? Wouldn't it be so much more, um, educational to stir up lots o' drama and emotions and bad feelings? You know it would.

People emailed me with some great suggestions for a bunch of hot button topics. Let's start with the ever-popular: breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding.

Remember, you don't need to have ever actually fed a baby to participate. You just have to have a view (preferably a vehement one) about what everyone else should or shouldn't do. Or, really, anything even vaguely related to the debate.

Leave your confession below: how does this issue make you feel??

As always, if there are enough comments, I'll add a few of my own anonymous thoughts. Feel free to guess which ones they are.

eta: And one more thing. If you don't enjoy lots of snarky, judge-y remarks and random visits by the typo/grammar police, *do not* read the comments to this post. Just don't. You have been warned.

***comments closed*** -- save your snark for next time round.

spare change

While it's not exactly an ecological disaster of cataclysmic proportions, we have our very own mini-spill going on. As in a self-destructing dishwasher gushing torrents of dirty water all over the kitchen and basement below.

Plus, in seemingly unrelated developments, our landline no longer works, the a/c has conked out and my cell phone's reception is spotty at best. Though I'll admit that that last is likely due to my having left it out in the rain overnight.

What minor, um, challenges are currently confronting you?

eta: And, before I forget, the first Friday of the month is quickly approaching, which means it's time to cross over to the dark side for yet another round of fun and educational and (of course) completely anonymous confessions.

Any suggestions for a theme? Bonus points if it's likely to generate venom, vituperation and general internecine strife. Check out last month's edition for inspiration.

asked and answered

The other day, Live Emotionally was talking about refrains, those things you say to yourself when you don't know what to say. Hers were It could’ve been worse and I still have Lily.

There's a comfort in repetition and, said often enough, any phrase becomes both mantra and penance. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be. Words without end. Amen.

When I'm reminded of what I've lost, I think: I'm better off without them.

When I wish I were dead, I tell myself: You will be. You will be.

What's your refrain?

bad trip

This morning I got this email, seemingly from a friend of mine (spelling, punctuation and capitalization as in original).

from [xxxxxx]
date Mon, May 24, 2010 at 11:17 PM
subject Dilema!

How you doing? We made a trip to London (United Kingdom) unannounced some days back, Unfortunately we got mugged at gun point last night! All cash, Credit cards and phone were stolen, we got messed up in another country, stranded in London, fortunately passport was back in my hotel room. It was a bitter experience and i was hurt on my right hand, but would be fine. I am sending you this message cos i don't want anyone to panic, we want you to keep it that way for now!

I have been to the police and embassy here, but they aren't helping issues,I have limited means of getting out of here, we canceled our cards already and made a police report, I won’t get a new card number till I get back home! So I really need your help. I Need you to loan me $2,500 You could wire whatever you can spare to my name and Location via Western Union, below is all you need:

Receiver's Name -[xxxxx]

Location - 272, Coriander Avenue, Docklands, E14 2AA , London United Kingdom I still have my passport so I can use it as identification,email me the transfer details and the confirmation # would def refund it to you once we arrive hopefully tomorrow.

I guess this is a very common Facebook/gmail scam, though one I've never been the recipient of before. But it strikes me as just about the weakest attempt ever.

Wire $2,500? Like, what's in it for me? Couldn't they at least offer a 20% share of the proceeds from the under-the-table sale of South African diamonds inherited from an "honored and deeply Christain" aunt or a fee for allowing "over-invoiced funds" embezzled by goverment officials from the Central Bank of Nigeria to be laundered through my bank account?

Who's been scamming you?

righting

It was more a mistake than a milestone, but, the other day, Ruby rolled over for the very first time.

She was next to the coffee table, tummy to floor, when her forearms unfolded, her back arced and the weight of her head toppled her with the force of an undertow. She stared at the ceiling. She started to cry.

Nothing was certain, but this much was clear: something had gone wrong, someone had blundered. Somewhere above her, the lights glared and dazzled. Nothing would ever be the same again.

natural history

I realize that just about the least interesting thing to read about is how tired someone else is.  But, honestly?  I'm tired.  Very, very tired. 

So tired, in fact, that when I try to read, the words spontaneously generate their own anagrams, like barnacle geese, born of driftwood, or crocodiles spawned from the mud of the Nile

And how (or how many hours) did you sleep?

and so on

Fascinating discussion going on in the comments to that last post. Kind of a SAHM v. WOHM inferno cage match to the death!

I've closed comments, but, due to popular demand,* I'm thinking we'll have another round on a different topic next month. Stay tuned.


*yes, I realize that there's probably a certain amount of popular demand going the other way. But what's that saying about fooling pleasing all of the people all of the time?