pictorial update essay, pt. 2--the euro

the european championships have been going on for the last 2-3 weeks. i've watched a lot of games on the internet, which for most of the time looked a lot like the above. this has been the best soccer tournament i've ever personally witnessed, based on the quality of play, the amount of drama and excitement, and also because my favorite european team (spain) has done very well and enters today's final against germany as the best team in the tournament.

two years ago i wrote a long and lengthy post on this very blog extolling the virtues of international soccer, and i'll save you my long-winded thoughts on the game and national identity, national pride, and the incredibly intricate anthropological aspects of the spanish psyche as it pertains to their team and its success and failure. (aaron and i have, in the last couple days, have had several lengthy conversations about these matters, so CLEARLY it's a fascinating topic). suffice it to say, though, that if you don't have anything else going on at 1:45 CST this afternoon, it would be a very worthwhile experience to head to whatever sports bar in your neck of the woods will show soccer games, and blend in to whatever international community your neck of the woods has, and shout until you're hoarse at the television screens there. i know i will. ¡¡¡QUE VIVA ESPAÑA¡¡¡

pictorial update essay, pt. 1--the wreck

sorry about the delay in posting--there's been lots happening, and therefore so much to tell, but unfortunately also so little time to tell. since there's so much to say, and since a picture is worth a thousand words, it stands to reason that the most efficient method of catching up is with a lot pictures. because otherwise these posts would be even longer(!).

so, let's see here. when we left our story (forgetting kim's...incident), aaron was in town. we had a great time, and i think aaron will probably back me up when i say that you should come visit us, too--it's good times. so aaron went home, and kim and i went back to our normal lives. and that's where our story begins...

some morning shortly after aaron left, i decided after waking up around 5:30 (which i usually do) that i would go for a bike ride. this is something that i've been wanting to make a regular part of my summer since about the fifth snowstorm of our crappy winter, and all winter i dreamt of how amazing it would be while stumbling through the snow. i imagined myself waking up every morning, going on long epic bike rides, and really enjoying starting my day with vigorous exercise, breathtaking views of the lake, and probably insightful thoughts or beautiful poetry written while sitting on a rock by the lake. in search of all of this excitement and more, this particular morning i rode down to the 57th street beach, and i got off the trail, walked around, and enjoyed the feel of sand on my feet. aaaaah, what a relaxing, great start to a lovely summer day.

as i sat on the beach, however, a menacing, foreboding wind stirred up over the lake and blew onshore (FORESHADOWING!!!). i sat it out (still waiting for my early morning, lakeside epiphany), but eventually i got tired of picking sand out of my eyes, so i decided to head home. the ride home was really nice, because the wind was at my back--i was going fast, enjoying life, and feeling like nothing could possibly be wrong in the world. but (FORESHADOWING) i was wrong. i approached the 18th street bridge and began the difficult climb to the top, digging in and probably imagining that i was winning the tour de france (i often imagine myself winning competitions during mundane parts of the day. throwing paper in the trash can: "3...2...jeremy shoots...1...HE SCORES!!! JEREMY WINS!!!" or while speedwalking to cross the street before the light changes: "and it's jeremy by a nose!!!". or while buttering my toast:"ladies and gentlemen, i think we may have just witnessed the first ever perfect butter/toast application. we await the score from the judges...6.0, 6.0, 6.0, 6.0, and from japan...6.0!!! jeremy has done it!!! the gold medal in the toast competition goes to jeremy and the united states!!! it's the miracle on wheat!!!" but i digress). so i crested the epic incline at the bridge, and did that thing that riders do when they win the tour de france. you know, they sit back, hands off the handlebars, and soak in the glory of their accomplishment. and i was so basking when the aforementioned wind decided that it was finished doing me favors for the day, and it was payback time. the wheels went sideways, i quickly grabbed my handlebars, there was a general sprawling and frantic scramble and spectacle (and i swear just as i was going over the front of my bike i thought of this) and i ended flattened, breathless, and unwilling to move, and unnaturally intimate with the pavement. i said "ooooh, oooooh, oooooh" for awhile, and finally i decided i'd rather not be run over, so i dragged myself to the corner. when i got home, here was the damage:



well, and also there was this intense rib pain which has stuck with me since, making me look (feel) like an invalid while getting out of bed. i think i may have broken my rib, which is really painful and really slow to heal. the pain is so intense, i haven't been able to ride my bike since.

but at least i won the tour de france.

Kim vs. A Pressing Urgency

Jeremy's been begging me for weeks to contribute something to the blog, and I've been delaying while I ponder what truly remarkable, insightful piece I could submit. I've had a number of really great insights, stories, etc. collecting to be shared with all of you. Unfortunately, THIS story is not one of them. Jeremy insists, however, that it must be told.

It all started early one Monday morning, when everything was under control in the ol' excretory system. No urgent business, if you know what I mean. I got to the office early and got started on some projects. I had to make an appointment with the doctor, so I though I'd call early, before everyone else arrived.

I dialed the number, and just as the voice on the other line picked up, I felt it. That critical, undeniable, URGENT need.

But instead of hanging up, I figured, "I can handle this. I'm an adult. My sphincter knows who's the boss here."

So we start through the preliminaries:
name
last name
middle name
maiden name
mother's maiden name
phone number
mother's phone number
insurer
insurer's phone number
and so on...

Little by little, I start shifting weight, folding and unfolding myself. People are now arriving for work, and I greet them with an awkward grimace.

I'm squeezing with enough force to crack a walnut. Or possibly a coconut.

Then - right in between "Hang on the line while I check for availabilities" and "Just a few minutes more..." I realize that the sensation has changed.

To my horror, I realize that something is ever so slowly making it's way towards freedom.

And I think, "Oh s***." (And indeed it was.)

Let me take this moment to talk with you about transcendent experiences. They say that when you have one, your senses become finely tuned, your awareness heightened and perhaps focused sharply on some new enlightenment. I think I understand this feeling. In this moment, everything in the room became eerily silent, as the entire focus of my body concentrated like a laser on the new enlightenment that I had actually... pooped my pants. It was a feeling of deep

understanding that I cannot fully express.

The woman FINALLY comes back on the line and I'm like, "okaythat'sgreatnextweekokayfinebye."

At this point I'm now using sheer force of IMAGINATION to keep things under control and praying for some suspension of the laws of physics and gravity just so i can keep my dignity.

I slam the phone down and waddle out of the office, knees squeezed together, vision starting to blur.

Avoiding people down the interminably long hallway, I dive into the bathroom and find myself face to face with Shuffly Tom, the cleaning guy.

I shove his bewildered self out the door with a curt, "I REALLY need this room right now!" and rush towards freedom in a 3'x4' cubicle.

If you are on the edge of your seat (as I was), you will be relieved to know (as I was), that I escaped mostly unscathed. And no one was the wiser.

Until now. When, much to the chagrin of my mother, I cast all dignity aside for your middle-school amusement.

I ask only one thing of you: make this story even more grand and glorious by adding fabulous and quasi-embarrasing stories of your own! Yay!