Four(th)

I awoke this morning with a peculiar... itch. A destructive bent. Setting fire to a few of the neighbor kids’ toys proved only marginally satisfying. This particular itch could not be sated by fire alone, I needed…explosions. Technicolor explosions.

Ah, the Fourth of July, and nary a sparkler in sight.

During the Africa Cup of Nations, there were frequent fireworks going off, so someone has a big ole bag of Black Cats somewhere. Problem is, winter turns this whole city into a big pile of kindling, and the tendency to mistake fireworks for gun shots doesn’t exactly endear them to the general public.

Marnie and I had to make due with some burgers and dogs, as well as the best buckeyes to grace the earth. Seriously. We brought JIF back from Scotland JUST FOR THIS.

On the footy front, we’re down to four, the hearts of Africa being broken by the hand of Uruguayan Luis Suarez, whose deliberate handball prevented a late winner for Ghana. Though they were awarded a penalty, Asamoah Gyan fired his shot over the crossbar, and the Uruguayans won the ensuing penalty shootout. While I think the allegations that they “cheated” to reach the semis are a bit harsh, the whole incident has left a collective bad taste in the continent’s mouth.


The good news is that my Dutchies miraculously came from a goal down to beat the Brazilians, and will meet Uruguay in the next round. Needless to say, Africa will be rooting for them to enact some retribution on the South Americans.

Apologies to those who are not football inclined, but until next Sunday, this is what is going on in this country. It’s a bit like expecting the US media to report on something other than the Gulf Spill: NOT. GONNA. HAPPEN.