The Relationship Manager job title sounds a lot different than the actual job

Okay, before I forget. Many people keep asking me when I am coming home to Boston. Personally, I think they are more concerned with how much more Lisa-free time they have to revel in rather than how much longer they have to suffer without me. Whatever their reasons for asking though, I’ll tell you that I fly back to Boston on Saturday, July 19 (assuming Terminal 5 doesn’t crap the bed again). That’s a little less than 3 weeks away. The follow up question to “When do you come home?” is always “Are you looking forward to coming home?” And so I will cut you off at the pass, be unoriginal and tell you “yes and no.” I don’t doubt that I will tear up the day I leave my apartment, that godforsaken broken trash can, the shower that sprays water all over the bathroom floor, and the door that slams no matter how gently you try to close it. But as much as I will miss those things (and countless others), I am eagerly awaiting the day I walk through my condo door, see my fake plant covered in dust, curl up on my Jerzee sheets, and call Papa Gino’s for a large cheese pizza (“just for me”) delivery. I’ve found that 6 months is the perfect amount of time to spend working in a different country (3 months in Sydney was far too brief). But enough about this. I’ll write more debriefing blogs later.

Now onto more important things. Football.

Sunday night I watched the Euro 2008 game. I know, I know…I never watch football. It might sound ironic coming from someone who enjoys watching baseball and doesn’t think it’s boring at all, but watching football is about as exciting to me as watching Mr. McFeeley talk about how a VHS tape works. But since Euro 2008 is huge here (it’s analogous to the World Cup the way the Winter Olympics is to the Summer Olympics), I figured I would try to immerse myself completely in British/European culture. So I got my plate of grapes and tub of hummus (not to be eaten together) and sat myself down on my couch for the next 90 minutes. Truth be told, it wasn’t terrible. 90 minutes actually passed by quickly seeing as how they don’t stop the clock and I could be distracted by the players’ hairdos. The greatest part about watching a sport where, on average, there are only 2 goals scored is that I can change channels, watch 3 minutes of Frasier, flip back, and will not have missed anything. I also enjoyed when the announcer kept referring to that one player Javier as Jah-vee-air. I’m not expert in the Spanish language or anything, but I’m pretty sure it’s pronounced Hah-vee-air. All in all, it was a good time. And I’m not just saying that because the Germans lost and you know how I feel about Germans….

Oh and hey brother-in-law…happy Canada Day. Bring a little Toronto fever to the Holy Land, will you?