It's that time of every four years, where the world collides in one epic event. Where the hopes and dreams of nations rest on a ball, ninety minutes, about twenty individuals. It is the same time when I act less and less like an American and relish in my not-so-secret desire to be European.
It's World Cup time.
If I don't return phone calls, emails, show up to work, appointments, or any such thing, it's more than likely because I'm sucked into the tournament. That and I'm trying to send all positive energy to the US team, so still has a small but hopeful chance of advancing to the second round.