Happy February 2019! Happy Superbowl Sunday, too!
I live perilously close to the Patriots’ home region, which means wearing all your lucky clothes for the Super Bowl, so that the Pats will win. That’s true of anywhere’s fave team, I suppose, and there have been goofy hats to help them win, too. A woman my age or more was food shopping yesterday.. well, it’s hard to describe. It looked a little like a stovepipe hat, but it had a knit band above the rim which sported the PATRIOTS name and colors.
Listen.. if you ever see anything other than a pith helmet on my head, I want you to make me move out of New England. Maybe somewhere warm..
The parties have been planned, the food has been shopped, people are coming from far off to sit in New England homes and eat chili/cheesecake/Chinese takeout in the gaps. Beer is huge, too. Fooding has to be timed carefully so as to not miss the commercials as well as none of the game. Or the halftime show. This year, it’s people I don’t know, except for Maroon 5 who’ve been ostracized by Kaepernick fans. Oh, heck, let’s not even go there.
We’ll be tuning in. Son is coming over as is a DH friend. Hence, I’ve been cleaning the whole downstairs all morning. Why? Why do we do this? Football fans are not only nose-blind, they are eye-blind. As long as the dried maple syrup/milk and/or the hermetically sealed cereal crunch doesn’t unbalance their beer bottle — and there’s anything that passes for a toilet — what’s the problem?
I will sit there before the tv screen wondering why everyone around me just yelled, be it a good or bad yell. I’m never sure which it is until I see that no one’s weeping. I’ve been watching the big football games in bits and pieces my whole life. I still don’t know why catching the ball, running 2 – 6 feet, and falling onto the ball is a good thing. It’s okay; I know the other important stuff, like why cats take a full bath when they’re embarrassed, or even why kids are tempted to put pieces of potato up their noses.
Anyway, as I say, there will be commercials. (Clever ones.) Also, I have to hem some pants for grandson. My touchy adrenalin organs and I will excuse ourselves at some point, perhaps after the half-time show, to go where no one yells and everyone sews. (Or blogs.)
If you’re a watcher, have fun! First, make sure there are TUMS in the cabinet.
You know that I cannot close this with, “May the best team win” right? I can’t. It is not the unforgivable sin named by Jesus, but it’s awfully close.