Go, Discovery. Go, France. Way to Go, Italy.
(Post started July 4, 2006; finished July 5, before work...)
Well, I slept until 11 this morning but at least I saw part of the AM, which is more than I can say for yesterday. I feel good, though. Had a nice brunch at "my diner," where I was treated yesterday to an employee stomping out the door hollering, "Tell So-and-So I quit. I'll be back for my money." Ahhh...the suburban Philly middle-class. Gotta love it! Today's brunch was uneventful but tasty...veggie omelet with American cheese, crsip bacon and home fries and Philly-style rye toast. Every. Morsel. Gone.
I was able to listen to the launch of the space shuttle Discovery on my way to the grocery store. Went off without a hitch. I've always loved the space program. I was 8 or 9-ish when the Gemini program was active. I loved to watch the launches and dream of floating around among the stars in zero-gravity. I was upset, though, when I was 10 and Wild, Wild West was interrupted with news of the Apollo flash fire that killed Gus Grissom. What can I say? I was 10 and Robert Conrad was awfully cute and Ross Martin was funnier than shit!
I've always been sorry that the Challenger disaster in 1986 erased the magic of the space program and space travel for my 6 year-old son. I wanted him to have the same sense of possibility and new frontiers that I grew up with via Gemini and Apollo. I wanted him to have the wanderlust that would spark a desire to see the earth from another perspective, from space. He would never recover that magic after Challenger exploded. Damn shame.
But Discovery went up without a single, major glitch yesterday, despite a small piece of missing insulating foam. Go, Disvocery! Go, US space program. Let's listen to Stephen Hawking and find us some other place to live, soon, before other rockets obliterate our home here.
In other news, Italy beat Germany in the World Cup semi-finals yesterday and I was disturbed to find I could not find the match on my cable television! How can the US be so behind the rest of the world when it comes to "football?" Italy scored twice in the last two minutes of extra time to post a 2-nil win over the host nation. Today, France will play Portugal for the last spot in the finals. Go, France! If I can't have a France/Germany match-up, I'll take France/Italy. I have no idea who I'd root for but it should be a good match. I just hope the final games are TELEVISED here in the US!
Time for the salt mines. Hope you all had a happy American Independence Day!
Technorati tags: bitchy / life / health and science / US politics
posted by Cheryl @ 4:42 PM
6 Comments:
I am so jealous. I would love, just once to actually see NASA launch a rocket. TV just does not do it justice :)
Oh, me too, Von! I love the space program. Might be humanity's last, best hope.
"...how can the US be so behind the rest of the world when it comes to 'football.'" That's a very interesting ponderance that's frequently occurred to me, as it seems every parent in the nation has their child playing soccer for at least a year so. One would think that after a couple of generations, the sport would become more popular. I've not a clue, though Slate, I believe, had a pretty piece on the subject not too long ago. Personally, I enjoy soccer as well as any sport, though none, save minimally baseball, appeal to me any longer.
Take it from a former soccer mom...soccer rules! Lord knows I've sat on the sidelines on enough damp, cold November days to have firsthand knowledge. It's as fast as hockey but, I think, more physically demanding. These are no wimps out there. Yet there's no foul play or rough stuff allowed, and the refs mean it. What's not to love?
Is our refusal to catch on to what the entire rest of the world knows another shade of American isolationism? Individualism? Stubborness? Stupidity? Maybe some combination of them all.
I suppose I'm just old, but we didn't have those problems when my kids played. The parents' greatest issue was having to go to Chuckee Cheese after the games, which is probably among Dante's levels.
Oh no, I'm not talking about violence among American kids playing soccer or hockey, though the parents may be another story. The violence I referred to was in professional hockey, where it's met by referees with a wink and nod.
I remember those trips to the pizzeria after the games...nothing rough but a whole lot of little boy rowdiness. It was great! Now you're making me nostalgic, Refugee.
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