Bang.

June 10, Elk Grove, California.

Yesterday we were awaken by a shouting assault, coming from the cookhouse behind us. La Copa del Mundo, la Coupe du Monde, the soccer World Cup 2006 had begun.
(Today tio Tito shut himself up in his trailer this afternoon to watch the Argentina/Ivory Coast match; the guys wouldn't leave him alone about it. He emerged triumphantly, wearing the Argentinian team's shirt, after the first Argentina goal.)
It was a day full of shouts, the soccer fans' (ie, everybody in the circus minus, maybe, Ekaterina) and Dylan's. He's turned impossible these past few days, testing his voice and our patience. And then we also got married, swearing the eternal love of marriage in the Sacramento county clerk's office, in an airless room under a plastic canopy with white and pink plastic flowers and two little white plastic angels on the side. After being together for more than five years we held hands before Dylan, a marriage commissioner and an anonymous witness, half mangling the vows, overcome by emotion after all.
(Argentina won.)