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KOLiving the Blog....
June 21 The Russians are coming....Let's just call it part of my "P" in my ENTP'ness that half way through something, I reserve the right to change my mind. To actually CHANGE a part of me, in the vain of fairness, and integrity, and all things 'just and equal' in the world! That was the case today as I watched Russia totally dominate a well rounded favourite; a cinderella looking for her slipper to finish off the story book romance.
I have always loved the Dutch style of play...FAST, from the flank, building on each transition as though it was their last opportunity to make a difference, but today, it wasn't there. If they had attacked from the flank once, I thought they might have had a chance, but time after time they would build and build, and go down the middle to an impeccable collapsed Defense, which just could not be beat. The Dutch could hammer balls from 33 metres, all day long, they were not going to score and they were not going to break down the D. It just was not going to happen.
Once the Russian D stripped the Dutch of the ball, it was into an unbelievable counterattack down the flank. While they capitalized on 3 of those attacks, they missed several which would have posted the real score in the game. Russia looked fitter, more creative, and definitely the shining star in what has got to be called a 'no show' for the Dutch.
The highlight was two-fold...Torbinsky (Dmitri), the young talented mid-fielder coming into the game as a substitute and scoring the go-ahead goal in overtime, and Arshavin (Andrei), previously suspended for the start of Euro 2008, coming in to the game to not only set up Torbinsky, but to score a brilliant 3rd goal in overtime. Torbinsky's goal came courtesy of a flank attack, a beautiful cross by Arshavin to the far post and an 'outside of a left foot stumble to avoid the goal post deflection' by Torbinsky. Russia so deserved the win...and they got it in Royal Fashion!!  PS - really not bad to look at either!! June 17 O Captain...O Captain, My Captainby Walt Whitman
~Originally published by Walt Whitman in the mid 1800's as a tribute to Abraham Lincoln (after his death), O Captain, My Captain, takes on greater lengths, metaphorically inserting the many causes of battle and just causes into the poetic picture. The whole idea of winning the battle, but losing one's life in doing it carries over into many aspects of daily life, whether it is work, sports, or love. We all have claimed small victories and lost pieces of ourselves in the process. I would think that is why this poem hit the heart of so many readers.
http://www.loc.gov/exhibits/treasures/trm013.html
June 15 Taking over the houseBill Gates may be taking over the world with his wealth, and curing AIDS in Africa with his philanthropy, but Steve Jobs is taking over my house one cubic foot at a time!
We just unboxed the ALL-in-ONE-box IMAC 24 inch this morning and within 15 minutes, and 2 cords, it is up and working in perfect harmony with the rest of the house. No CPU, No Router, No hassle. The slim slim slim 24 inch monitor houses everything, and the keyboard is smaller than the depth of a mouse pad, but the sell of the sizzle is really in the unbelievable 1920 by 1200 Resolution graphics.
The standard Radeon HD graphics come to life when teamed up with GE Force Video Card and the 512 mB video memory. You could be a block away and still see the exceptional video quality that the IMAC delivers - without pause or hesitation due in part to the HIGH voltage standard RAM.
Yes, it comes with 2 GB DDR2 SDRAM memory and the Intel 2.8 GHz Core Duo Processors - standard!!! Slap on to that a 320 GB Hard Drive and 'OH the places we'll go!!' Of course, if storage is an issue, the IMAC 24 is fully expandable to 1 TeraBYTE!!
Built in Video Camera and all the Multi media software you can ask for, and it is no wonder that Steve Jobs' vision is becoming clearer and clearer. Everything you need from a system, two plugs and you're ready to go!! ITunes, IMac, I KNOW....it's technology that fits! FAST!! Nice Job to Steve!! June 02 The start of sexy....Ferrari California in lacey RedLike a favourite pair of well worn Italian shoes, the idea and the passion behind the Fiat Spyder continues to grow on me with a quiet comfort in each step. Battista ("Pinin")Farina was only a young boy when he began working in his brother's body shop in the early 1900's, the youngest of 11 children, nicknamed "Pinin" for the smallest. It was a name that would stick, and one that he would legally change in 1961 at the beckoning of the President of Italy. It was a name that was to become renowned throughout the Auto Industry (and the world) and one that would that would propel partnerships, unlike any partnerships seen before. Ferrari, Fiat, Alfa Romeo, Jaguar, Lancia, Mitsubishi, Maserati, Peugeot, Chevy....they all owe the Pininfarina name, and style, some gratitude. The launching of the new and sleek Ferrari California (http://en.autos.sympatico.msn.ca/news/article.aspx?cp-documentid=7596034 ) has pieces of Pininfarina throughout it, whether you look at the clever weight distribution, the hidden safety features, or the unbelievable look and performance, you cannot help but see flecks and traces of the early Ferraris, Fiats, and Alfas. It is just plain pretty to look at and I can only imagine what it feels like to drive. AND it is meant to be driven!! Hard! btw, the price tag is in the neighbourhood of 185 K. (http://consumerguideauto.howstuffworks.com/2010-ferrari-f149.htm) Not that bad, when comparing the Porsche 911 Turbo (195) and THIS is a Ferrari! May 28 Time and the Ball of LifeIf you ask any professional athlete in the world whether or not they had a choice in opting for retirement over the game they love, most, would probably say 'no'. Very few have the luxury of choosing when and why they want to step away from a game that has given them so much - even when there has been no monetary reimbursement. Very few want to walk away from something that has helped to shape their soul and alter their own outlook on 'what it takes to be successful'. Very few, choose. Very many, do.
The way I see it, there are a few of us in this world that are destined for greatness, and a few others that were meant to bobble their way through life, making double plays when most could only see the easy out. Nailing 3 pointers. Going tail to the wall to get the third out. Putting the biscuit in the basket. Or schooling your opponent,while saving a goal. All that really matters is having fun while doing it.
I have had fun. So much fun. There is nothing better than a little 5 v 5 on a Wednesday night, and I loathe to think what might replace that activity, other than inactivity. I am not a professional, nor have I ever been mistaken for one, but all I know is that with each boot that is hung up, a little piece of ourselves must fade away. A little victory. A little humility. A little completeness. May 05 The 10 Count for Eight BellesAh, the Kentucky Derby, such a tradition! The Mint Juleps, the Wagers, the Sun, the Hats, the incredible atmosphere in watching such a classic 2 minute race! The annual race for the roses is held at Churchill Downs in Louisville, and is complete with Kentucky's best (and others) 3 year old thoroughbreds, competing on one of the few remaining dirt tracks in the Professional Circuit. This year the brilliant race of the derby winner, Big Brown had a sad, sad cloud surrounding it as Eight Belles, the over jubilant 3 year old filly ran through the finish line in second place - the only chick in a roomful of dudes - and while slowing down on the next turn, crumpled to the ground, with her jockey flying over top of her, both, lying in a heap on the grand-daddy of all racetracks. One of them would get up a little shaken, dust himself off, and assess his fallen partner. She would not be as lucky, lying helpless, and looking skyward, unable to raiser herself with her two broken ankles as props. Such an unfitting end to the 134th Derby. The traditions and excitement of the day, pent up for those same 3 years as funding, love, and care was injected into Eight Belles, came to a screeching halt as the Veterinary team at Churchill Downs made its way on to the track to attend the fallen girl. The decision to end her life seemed too fast for those that believe that nature brings us the best they have, and we have a duty to protect and care for them, at all costs. Eight Belles had been born a champion, from champion lines, and raised to be a champion, yet she was dispensed with, as her usefullness wore out at 3 years of age. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1HClCiD5UDM http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/05/sports/othersports/05racing.html?ref=othersports http://www.usnews.com/blogs/erbe/2008/05/05/the-kentucky-derby-tragedy.html April 22 Racing through the Glass CeilingIt wasn't all that long ago when I dreamt of racing Indy Cars in the bigs, or at the very least, being a big shot pit mechanic to my very own Paul Newman Racing Team. I loved Robert Redford more, but Paul Newman was okay by me, and was just coming onto the racing circuit. Yes, it was grade 10. It was a year of transition, a year of hope, and the year that we would finally get our driver's license!! We had the chance to launch our new found adolescent selves out into the community, and to be all that we could be while doing it.
I had always had this strange fascination with mechanics, both the verb and the noun (especially with 'Cute', as a prefix) and thought what better 'work experience' could there be, than that of learning to work on, and around, car engines. Off I went to the friendliest service station of which I knew, only to be accepted as a Gas Jockey - the first female one that I had ever seen in our neighbourhood (circa 1980).
For six months I peered over the chief mechanics shoulder and listened to all of their non-stop cat calls as a hot driver drove up to the pumps in a hot car. Soon, I was doing flat repairs, and oil changes, and tire rotations, and while those things were interesting, I wanted to take apart an engine from top to bottom, just to understand how the whole damn thing worked. I had this inate need to know how it all worked together! Enter my brother's 20 year-old girlfriend, who happened to have a 1968 Toyota Corona that she would sell to me for 200 dollars. Even if it didn't run, this was a steal, as it would soon provide an extra room in the driveway where I would install the best sound system known to a 15 year-old (probably from London Drugs), followed by stapling black diamond-tec fabric to all of the door panels and interior roof. The bonus in the whole deal, was that I could easily take apart the engine and be no worse for wear. Hell, I wasn't even legal to drive yet! I had had the car about a week, when the sound system was completed, and the whole neighbourhood grew to embrace my favourite rock - Journey's Don't stop Believing rocked on for hours on end, as I carefully removed each delicate part from under the hood. The car was the perfect size for me and the little four cylinder engine housed all the pieces that I could easily reach, unscrew, and dismantle. I was just a small town girl, living in a lonely world, and this car was quickly becoming my obsession. That was until my Dad arrived into my 'shop' (allocated mine by the lack of any other car currently in it), and began chanting, "What in the hell are you doing? How are you going to get all those parts back together? What is the matter with you?" It seemed to go on for hours, this incessant berating, maybe because I was only 15, maybe because I was a girl, or maybe just because he didn't have an inkling toward any of it, therefore no one else could. Maybe he was right. Maybe I couldn't do it. It wasn't long after that when I traded my little project in, all broken yet sort of still running. I gave up. I stopped believing. This past weekend, Danica Patrick won the Japanese Indy 300- the first woman ever to win a professional race. After the race, she spoke of what she had to endure as a female, mentored by her racing father, where the whole family believed in her and supported her, and where she was constantly taunted by the men in the racing circles. She was only 16 years old, when she began her racing career in England; another lonely adolescent, listening to all of the boorish cat calls, and hoping that she would one day prove her critics wrong, 'living just to find emotion'. Finally she would arrive on the Indy stage as a 23 year old, and have to wait 49 Professional Indy starts before she could finally say that she had made it. "I wanted to be a race car driver so badly that everything I had to go through was just part of the process," she told the Chicago Tribune. Some will win, some will lose. Some are born to sing the blues....but you ain't one of them. Don't stop believing, and I will keep you on my 'shop' wall for inspiration!!
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