Some houseguests

Today, my dad will arrive for Edoarda’s & Stephen’s second, larger wedding (August 8).

Edoarda’s family has been trickling into the town. We’ve been finding hosts for them.

Also, my mom got here last weekend.

On Monday morning, after I got out of bed, I went to her room. (I knew she’d already be awake.)

“Good morning, Mother.”

She was thrashing around a bit, under the covers. “Oh, I had such an awful dream!”

“What was it, Mother?”

“I went into the dining room and saw the dinosaur-rat. It was on the table. It was eating the food from people’s plates. It was drinking the baby’s milk.”

She was distressed. I was intrigued: the dinosaur-rat.

(Right now, there’s a frightened, young raccoon out in our yard. My mom and M&M are trying to shoo it away. We all feel badly, though; it’s very cute.)

Libro Nacho

Having visited Ecuador, Martin is eager to improve his Spanish. He uses a web app to study the language.

Some recurring phrases:

el oso bebe la cerveza
el gato contra el pingüino

I bought myself a libro Nacho and lent it to him. But no.

Copa de Oro

Europeans have the Euros; South Americans play in the Copa América; the nations of North and Central America and the Caribbean put on a farce called the Gold Cup.

In recent years, the tournament has always been hosted by the USA – the venue where the profits can be maximized – and, in effect, co-hosted by Mexico, whose fans fill the seats. The victories have gone to the U.S. or to Mexico. It’s in the interest of those countries to maintain the status quo, and to collude.

Well, last night, in Semifinal No. 1, the U.S. were upset by Jamaica. Martin was sad. I wasn’t.

In Semifinal No. 2, the Panamanians were outplaying Mexico – and they were winning, despite an early red card (much too soft, I thought).

Jamaica vs. Panama in the final. I was warming up to the idea (though I knew that the gaudy NFL stadium in Philadelphia wouldn’t sell out). Mexico and the U.S. hadn’t done squat all tournament. The Panamanians were actually a little bit interesting to watch. I mean: under pressure, they would bring the ball out with calm, short passes; that’s usually a sign of interestingness.

And then, in the dying seconds – for the second straight game – the Mexicans were gifted a bogus penalty kick by the referee.

The Panamanians were furious, of course. Their bench players charged the field, with my full sympathy (and I don’t often give out sympathy for that). Mark Geiger, the gringo referee, sheepishly refrained from punishing any of them. But the damage had been done; the call stood; the Mexicans had the opportunity to equalize the score.

What was most interesting, though, was the booth commentary, which was by Mexicans (e.g., Jorge Campos). All of them were outraged. Not like this, they kept on saying. Not with another bogus penalty, not for this sorry team. Mexico is undeserving.

Touchingly, they pleaded with Andrés Guardado to miss the penalty kick, on purpose. He didn’t miss it.

During the overtime, the Panamanians were tired. Mexico scored with another penalty kick; and I thought, “This might just be the worst game I’ve ever watched.” (This, after the dismal quarterfinal between Mexico and Costa Rica.)

In soccer, the gravest injustices are arranged “behind the scenes.” Still, I’m grateful when they’re this blatant so that even the purported beneficiaries can’t but be disgusted.

I hope this helps to make a better world.

En route to Aldi

“Mary, writing so much philosophy is distracting me from reading philosophy, which is distracting me from reading novels, which is distracting me from reading short stories.”

“Maybe it would help to distract you if I were to put on some more TV.”

¡PLOP!

July fragments

Martin & Mary were in Ecuador for three weeks. I took care of Bianca. She ate one of the houseplants.

On Friday, M&M came back. They brought a hammock (too small) and a new, woven tablecloth. Bianca likes the tablecloth very much.

Mary has been watching some new DVDs, e.g., Harry Potter and the Bucket of Bla. Martin has been growing his hair out.

During the three weeks M&M were gone, I followed a kind of caveman diet, eating mostly sweet potatoes. (I don’t know how many lbs. I’ve lost. I’m not supposed to weigh myself yet.) Every day, I would eat sweet potatoes and watch Law and Order: Special Victims Unit, and then I’d read and write a lot about political philosophy. And I’d watch the Copa América, which you already knew.

This last Sunday, I played soccer and gave seven assists. I scored one goal, but it was invalidated. I also wrecked one of my ankles, and so now, when I walk down the stairs, I have to lean against the wall.

Copa América: wrap-up

By now, I’m sure you know that Chile defeated Argentina in the final game.

The host nation seemed happy. The Argentinians seemed a bit miserable. Lionel Messi turned down his Best Player award. …

The male Sabby, Stephen, and Kenny (yes, Kenny) and I watched the first half at Martin’s & Mary’s house. Or, rather, bits of the first half; the internet was lousy. We watched the rest of the game at Stephen’s apartment, on his new flat-screen TV.

The Peruvians finished in third place. For the second straight Copa América, Paolo Guerrero was the top scorer (well, this time, the joint-top scorer). The Paraguayans finished fourth, with a goal differential of minus-six; last time, they were second, with minus-three. I went to Wikipedia and read about the Wars of the Triple Alliance and the Chaco.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

For Prof. Robby P.’s book club, we’re reading Shirley Jackson’s We Have Always Lived in the Castle. The meetings keep on being postponed.