Americans really aren't very good at soccer.
Which is totally weird, since there are like nine gazillion soccer fields around here, always filled to the brim with these kids wearing shiny shorts and sporting little Adidas shoes and nudging one another impatiently, and mothers! oh, the mothers! with their hundred thousand dollar SUV's and sense of European entitlement and snobbery...and the rest of the world is so poor it's STUCK with soccer because all soccer is is a ball, a field, and forty-five minutes of running about, dodging traffic and kicking the crap out of the other guy in the blue shirt.
And you wonder why those third world places seem to always rise from the ashes when it comes to this kind of thing.
We were Ghana-vised. Good for Ghana.
And My Following Story:
38 hours--smoke free.
The cat is still alive, the house is still in one piece, and my mouth waters for the taste of ash, tar, and nicotine. I hope to not fail. Oh, I hope, I hope, I hope.