I'm ready

I'm watching football. I almost reneged and switched over to Masterpiece Theater. The whole airing of the complete works of Jane Austen is super tempting. The game is exciting…but it's a lot of manly--ugh-ugh-violence and the thought of watching a comedy of 19th century manners seems…relaxing. But, I was chastised and encouraged to continue with the watching of the football, so I will. It's quite an exciting game--no question about that.

Doesn't mean I can't write and watch, though!

I'm pretty pleased with this week and weekend. Friday, I walked home (good for me!), picked up some take-out for dinner and had an early night. Saturday morning, I was supposed to go to soccer practice with my outdoor team. I was kind of dreading it, but I got up early enough to make it, but I checked my email and it was cancelled. Several of us expressed the sentiment that if it were below freezing, we would skip. Color me relieved.

Instead of just lazing, though, I made myself some nice breakfast, vacuumed and generally got the house in order. My plan was to catch a couple of movies at the National Gallery and meet my friend, Belinda, for drinks in the evening. To make up (sorta) for no soccer practice, I did some yoga at home and walked to and from the museum.

The first movie, A Kind of Loving, was great. It starred Alan Bates, one of my favorite actors and he was wonderful, as usual. The second, This Sporting Life, was more interesting than good--but it wasn't bad either. Though, I must say, sitting for that long is uncomfortable. I got up between the two features, but walking home was a good thing.

Again, I got take out for dinner (what's up with that?), but I saved half and had it for dinner tonight. So, whatever. Plus I cooked some Brussels sprouts. Tiny, delicious cabbages.

After the movie and my dinner, Belinda and I went for drinks on H ST. It's very cool to be able to stick (more or less) in the neighborhood for a night out. We sat, drank and talked for a few hours. I was unaccountably tired, but it was a good time. After, I dragged B to a party/fundraiser at an art gallery near my house. We were, um, a bit out of place. As I said, "My glasses are too small and my coat isn't ugly enough. But my scarf is long enough." The place was full of artsy, fashionable, alternative folks. The music was loud and house. A couple of women carved out a small space to dance, the most noticeable of whom had "diva" printed across her chest on an otherwise nondescript, though nicely fitted, t-shirt.

We didn't talk to anyone but one guy, with huge glassless eyeglasses, walked by and said, "Hi! How are you! Hello!" to us--and everyone else. Well, hell. I started saying, "Hi! How are you!" under my breath (but loud enough for B to hear) to everyone who walked by. We were doomed not to break into the scene, but it was interesting to observe. I have to say, it was truly diverse. A similar scene in Seattle would be lily white, not so in DC. So, that's one thing the crazy, avant-garde elitist types in DC have going for themselves, which is pretty damn good, actually.

A half an hour of that was enough and Belinda and I parted ways, she back to VA and me to home and bed…eventually. I was a little buzzed from the drinking so it took me a while to settle into sleep.

This morning, I got up in plenty of time to make it to my (indoor) soccer game. We were all full of subs, including my friend, Katie (aka Dr J). We lost the game but I had fun. I'm getting a tiny bit better with each game but I'm not quite mediocre yet. Someday.

I took Katie home after the game and then stopped by my favorite coffee shop for a bite to eat. It's a bit loud but the food is good, the coffee is perfect and I can always find a place to sit.

When I got home, it was more cleaning (the job that never ends!) and loads of football watching. I think I might have overloaded on the football, but I'm glad I was persuaded to watch the end of the Giants-Packers game--what a doozy! I'm ready for the superbowl!

The best thing about this weekend, though, is that it's not over! The chores (laundry, bathroom cleaning) that didn't get done today will get done tomorrow. I'll also get to hang out, briefly, with my eldest brother and his family who are swinging through on their way back to NJ. Time enough for everything. I like that.

Grateful for: friends and football.

My Team

I'll take a break from my regularly scheduled complaint-fest to write about football.

I cannot tell you how much it pained me that the Redskins met the Seahawks in their first playoff game. My reaction? No, no, no!

I will admit that I'm more a Redskins than Seahawks fan at this point. Plus, the Redskins are the sentimental favorite. They have a murdered teammate to play for and it doesn't get much more powerful than that.

However, I hate to root against the Seahawks. Tonight, watching the game, I find myself rooting for the Redskins but never begrudging the Seahawks for their good plays and excellent defense.

I waited, waited for Todd Collins to come alive. Collins was the missing piece for this team. Because he knows what he's doing and the players trust him, the team has come together in a way they never did with Campbell at QB. Collins is solid, steady, reliable and he knows the plays backwards and forwards. Read the interviews with the other players--they compare him, with a straight face, to Peyton Manning. Campbell is a man with potential. Collins is a man at the peak of his potential and it's a beautiful thing to see him play. Most of flubs and errors in the game cannot be ascribed to him. He hit the patterns, he stood unflinching in the pocket, took the hits and didn't show any fear or hesitation on the next play. He is my hero!

I also love the way he's brought everyone into the game. It used to be the Campbell and Cooley show. Now it's Portis, Randel-El, Moss, Betts, AND Cooley. It's wide open and as long as the receivers can run their patterns, Collins can hit them. Awesome.

Except they lost. Dammit.

I guess I'll be following the Seahawks to the next round, but I don't feel great about it.

Grateful for: football.

Whew

I hate New Year's Eve. If you've been reading right along, you know this. For all my smug non-stress about Christmas, I am completely, always, stressed out by New Year's. I can count my truly enjoyable NYE celebrations on one hand…one finger, actually. I can count my non-miserable ones on two hands. And, on the third hand, the miserable ones. The misery is borne from completely unreasonable expectations of kisses, new loves and excitement. I've never wanted to be in Times Square, but I have wanted to be at drunken, debauched parties. I have always wanted a kiss at midnight with someone I loved. As much as I don't want to want those things, I want those things.

This year, I had nothing, no plan, no party, only a request from TR to babysit. Damn. Was it really that bad? I try not to make big plans for New Year's since I'm sure to be disappointed. The smaller the plans, the smaller the potential disappointment. But this year…Pele wasn't free and I didn't pursue arrangements with other friends. Why not? Laziness? You tell me.

Then Pele got free and we're going to do something with a small group. A games night or some such. That's fine by me. I'm still sick (almost better), I don't particularly want to go out (that way lies disappointment), but I don't want to babysit (the humiliation!) either.

I'm relieved and happy and not feeling like such a loser. If I get to hang out with Pele, her boyfriend, a few other folks, play games and drink champagne at midnight, I'll be happy (enough).

Something that made me genuinely happily was watching the Redskins win today. The only problem is that the first team they meet in the playoffs is the Seahawks. Argh! Stupid conflicting loyalties.

Last, the third anniversary of this here blog was yesterday. Three years, 869 (!) posts and still going strong…or at least still going.

I'm grateful for the friends who've been reading since the beginning and for the virtual and real friends I've made along the way. I'm also grateful for the other blogs that entertain me and the comments that make me feel appreciated.

Thank you so much for reading, commenting and befriending me. It means more than I could possibly express.

Grateful for: the blog and friends.

Mini-stories

Dancing

I missed the first class in my series of eight lessons but I took the second class and was just fine. I've taken quite a few swing dance classes with the same instructors and I know a lot of the material. I was hoping that I'd be familiar with the material from first class and I was. I was relaxed and easy. I practiced my "smile at everyone" technique and everyone was very friendly. It's easy and it works.

The male-to-female ratio was perfect but the nerd quotient was high. Very high. I had a good time but left early. I was still tired from staying home sick most of the previous week. I'm looking forward to the next lesson.

No-show

Sue me, I skipped ushering. There's only so much a body can do.

Mega-fan

On Thursday, I went to my volunteer gig (reading to kids) after the second day of my conference. I had to plan the evening's activities, which I found a bit overwhelming in conception. However, the execution went rather well. We had fewer kids than last time, so fewer disruptions. We knew all the kids from last time, which meant everyone was more comfortable. The kids liked the books and the activity. I learned: I can plan an arts and crafts activity. My main principle: keep it simple, stupid. It worked.

After the volunteering, I hightailed it to Arlington to watch football with Pele and her boyfriend. No offense, Pele, but I know why the BF doesn't have people over more often—that place is a mess! However, I didn't care because the tv was HUGE and the couch was comfortable. Pele even ordered dinner for me! And the BF picked it up! He can keep that place as messy as he likes and it won't bother me one bit.

Finally, finally, the Redskins won. It was a relief. Pele told the BF that I'm a mega fan. He is a long time fan himself. I demurred and saying that following a team faithfully for one season does not make a mega fan. (Though I actually watched quite a few games last year.) He was amused. Me too.

No sale

On Friday, I was too lazy to go to the blogger happy hour—or was I too drunk? Probably both. I was also invited to a cocktail party at a neighbor's house. This was, in fact, a "sales" party at TR's house, organized by his wife. For the first part of the evening, TR was out with the kids and we ladies ate and drank and then listened to a sales pitch for high-end skin care products. I'm sure the products were all excellent but I just couldn't deal with it (i.e., buy anything). When TR eventually joined us, then retired to the kitchen to wash dishes, I followed him. We talked about work and football. A lot about football. TR asked my opinion about football. Bizarre.

Aside: I've been thinking a lot about the meaning of sport and why so many of us are attached to watching. First, I think it signals an ability to identify with something outside of oneself and the desire to be part of something larger than oneself. It's foolish, sure, but deeply meaningful. Second, it is about the best source of small talk ever! Yay sports!

Humorous epilogue: guess who spent $100 on high end skin care products at L'Occitane en Provence on Monday? (Shampoo, conditioner, toner, body wash and a present for Mom.) My usual source for such products (with the exception of the present) is the drug store and very occasionally the hair salon. I am a paradox.

Par-tay

On Saturday, I ended up with two party invites. One to the "party of mystery" and another from a work acquaintance. I spent most of the day hanging around the house slowly cleaning, knitting and watching dvds. I picked up my Seattle friend, Amanda, and her fiancé up from the airport around 7pm and took them home. We hung out for a while, but, as planned, I left for my parties around 9pm. (My exchange with Amanda about this went something like this:
Me: I feel bad taking you home and then just leaving you there.
Amanda: What, you don't trust us alone at your place?
Me: No! I feel like a bad host.
Amanda: Don't be silly.)

I drove to Arlington, to the work-acquaintance party. I was flying solo, but that was fine since I knew people where I was going. Upon arrival, I was greeted with a party of five (including me). Work friends, Nina, Danielle and Deirdre and the host, Bill, were the only other guests. I can't explain why, but I stayed there for the rest of the evening. I get along great with Bill, well with Danielle and so-so with Nina and Deirdre. Yet, Nina is my actual friend from this group. I can explain, but it's tiresome. I had a sufficiently entertaining time. Then I went home.

Brunchy

On Sunday morning, I took Amanda and her fiancé to Arlington (popular place!) to meet Amanda's brother for brunch. I joined them and it was fun. It's been years since I've seen Amanda's brother and I got to meet his kids too. After brunch and a little shopping, we parted ways. I let Amanda borrow the car for a couple days since she is also visiting friends in Baltimore and Annapolis. She'll come back to my place tonight—we're going to dinner. Hope she's enjoying driving the camper. Heh.

Wrap-up

This week is busy too. Last night, I went to a staged-reading of my playwright friend's newest play. Great, just as expected. Tonight, Amanda is staying with me. Tomorrow, I bake brownies. Thursday, I will probably skip a happy hour. Friday is our office party, at TR's place, which means a short day. Saturday, I drive to PA for a memorial service. Sunday, I drive home. Blah. I'm tired already.

Last week, as I mentioned, I sat in a conference for two days. I found it interesting and useful. About halfway through the second day, though, I started to fade. I started doodling and writing. I put my mind to an idea for a novel. Somehow, the background of a power point presentation is conducive to creativity. Perhaps it's because it doesn't insistently demand my attention like television.

What's great is that I came up with what might be a reasonable structure for a novel I would enjoy writing. It will be heavily (mostly) autobiographical, but it will be presented as fiction. That way I can fill in where I can't remember the actual events and dialog and I can drop/combine/create characters as needed. Plus, I have a gimmick. I've already written some unknown proportion of the novel via the blog, though the blog will not be part of the novel.

The real question is: when am I going to write this novel? And, I suppose, do I really want to write this novel? It used to be that when I got home, I set myself up with the computer and typed away while I watched tv. Now, I combine knitting with my tv watching and do very little writing at home or on the weekends. The knitting is deeply satisfying. The process is pleasurable and having something to show for it is awesome.

Have I traded the blog hobby for a knitting hobby? Perhaps. But, well, I'd like to think that I now have two awesome hobbies. Before, I could count reading and movies as hobbies, but they don't require the same amount of input, and don't result in the same level of satisfaction. (I guess you could classify my recreational sports activities as hobbies too, but they have a vastly different purpose.)

It's all a question of priorities. If the novel is the highest priority, then less time should be devoted to tv and knitting. I still have some thinking to do about this.

Of course, work is still phenomenally slow, which means if I were a tiny bit more efficient, a great deal of writing could be done at the office. It's possible that this is exactly how I wrote my dissertation. Don't quote me. (Dissertating also included many weekends and late nights at the office. It included very little time working from home.)

Off to the next event!

Grateful for: opportunities and inspiration.

Tailgate

I am completely exhausted today for no reason at all. Well, maybe because the cat woke me at 3:30am (!) and then banged around the house loudly enough that I broke out in a sweat and sat bolt upright, scared that I had an intruder in the house. The alarm provides only a small amount of comfort in that situation, but it was set, so I was reasonably sure that no one else was in the house. (No one was. Stupid cat.)

On Monday, I had the day off and stayed home and knit, knit, knit. I only worked on one project, a beret-type hat with cables (for me). I made a lot of progress but I'm only a little more than halfway done. The cables slow down this project, but so does the ridiculously complicated pattern. Who knows, I may end up ripping this hat and doing it over again, depending on how egregious my pattern mistakes are. It's awfully hard to tell how it will look in the end, though, since it's scrunched up on the needles. The fact that it's black will hide a multiple of sins.

Also on Monday, one of TR's daughters came over for a knitting lesson. Someone gave her a kit composed of two super large needles and a ball of yarn big enough to make a scarf. I showed her what to do and how to hold the needles but she still struggled. She's in the second grade, but the dexterity needed for knitting still eludes her. She's very close to getting it, though. Amusingly, she took a little rest after each stitch, laying the knitting down and admiring it. The rest of the time, she told me stories about school, the books she was reading and her family. I didn't have to ask many questions to keep her talking and I was thoroughly entertained. Great kid.

Sunday was more eventful, as I went to my first, live Redskins game. My work friend, Nina, had some tickets and a parking pass. Given my new status as football-fan, I was eager to attend. We decided to take the camper and tailgate. My mom, in her infinite wisdom, included a tiny gas grill in her gift of the camper—and she even provided a new propane canister to fuel it. All we needed was food.

On Sunday morning, I went over to Eastern market and got some hot dogs and ground beef as well as some fruit. I met Nina at Union Station and we drove from there to the stadium. I had a large cooler (also provided by Mom) packed with beer and food. The drive was easy and relatively traffic-free. We had a bit of a hard time finding a parking space, as everyone was violating the rules and using empty spaces for tailgating parties. I finally chose an empty spot next to a "party" spot. I managed, unfortunately, to scrape the bumper of the neighboring car as I pulled in. Totally my fault, but the woman sitting in the folding chair in the adjacent space unnerved me and caused me to err in judging the turn.

I slipped in while some drunken idiot yelled at me to "straighten it out!" (incorrectly). Another drunken idiot chided me, "better leave a note!", which I did. Nina felt bad and I told her not to sweat it. I'd only scraped the paint on the other car, not actually made a dent. Damage to the camper is inconsequential (thanks again to Mom, who gave it to me "pre-dented"). The only issue would be how truck-proud the other folks were. I told Nina that I've left notes before (only once, actually), and often the people don't call.

The end of that story is that we met the owners of the car when we were leaving. I told them what happened and that I'd left a note. The husband and wife inspected the damage and he told me, "don't worry about it." He added, "got anything to eat in there?" We all laughed and I said, "Yes! Want some pretzels?" He didn't accept the pretzels and I don't think I'll be hearing from them. Very nice people. I picked the right truck to scrape.

The tailgating wasn't very exciting, but I want to have the whole experience. We set the little grill just outside the camper and sat inside, comfortably, while the food cooked. I think we deviated from the norm by lounging inside the car rather than in the parking lot. Oh well!

Nina pointed out that a group of three guys were staring at us and she thought it might have been because of the fender bender. I got out and said hi to them and they engaged me in some car talk. It's been years since I did that! With my old car, a 1970 Chevy Malibu, I did it all the time. Because I knew a little something about that car's engine, I was able to impress quite a few guys—especially the ones at gas stations.

Anyway, these guys, one of whom was probably in his 50's, were marveling at the camper and wondering about how it worked. I explained its features and the older guy said, "It's hard to get these. There's a waiting list."

I said, "Yeah, they don't make them here—you have to get them from Europe."

"You can still get them?"

"Yes, well, not this kind, but there's a newer model, but it's a lot more expensive. They stopped making this kind in '92."

"Really!"

"Yeah, this is an '89." Gotta love those guys who think they know everything about cars.

When the guys left, we were still working on our beers and they said, "Are you headed up to the game?" We said we would be soon. I think they wanted to walk us to the stadium. Cute.

The game was…very disappointing. But the seats were good—high, but near midfield. I'm also glad I brought binoculars and a blanket.

Afterwards, fighting our way out of the parking lot, some folks in an enormous SUV tried to squeeze into the lane ahead of us. I'd just let someone else in and wasn't willing to yield. Nina agreed and admonished me not to let them pass. They pulled up next to us and one of the passengers yelled at Nina, "You're Arabian! Just go back to Arabia!"

That caused Nina to roll down her window and give them the finger and share a few choice words.

I was stunned. I'm sheltered enough—and white enough—not to encounter that kind of racism very often. We were both angered but managed to laugh it off. I said, "What is 'Arabian' anyway? That's not even a real thing!"

Nina said, "I know!" (Nina's parents are from Southeast Asia. She grew up in Southern California.)

After the game, we went for dinner and I dropped Nina home.

I was exhausted but couldn't drag myself to bed at a reasonable hour. A friend sent an email asking if I were up. When I answered, "yes," he called me. He wanted dating advice. Why, why do people think I know what I'm talking about? Scarier is that I think I know what I'm talking about. And I sound so convincing! Not sure if what I said was helpful, but he seemed to appreciate it. Sometimes, you just need a different perspective, and I did provide that, so how bad could it be?

Saturday was the last soccer game of season. We managed to win—giving us a record of 7 wins and one tie. Damn, that's a good team! Pele and I met up for a night of bar hopping that evening. Well, only one bar was hopped. It was quirky and endearing, but in a somewhat inconvenient location. I'd like to go back there but it may not happen.

Friday, I was planning to go swing dancing, but ditched that in favor of drinks with a few co-workers. My favorite (fading) office crush, Sailor, issued the invite to Nina and I on Friday afternoon. How could I say no?

Four of us ended up going for food and drinks at a bar in "Chinatown." It was fun but Sailor and I came close to blows over the issue of Federal unions (I'm pro, he wasn't). When I told Pele about it I said, "It was that kind of argument with someone with whom you're so on the same page with about everything, then realize you're not …"

She said, "That can be the worst kind!"

It did kind of suck. He looked deflated when he realized that I was never going to agree with his assertion that the private sector is, by definition, more efficient than the public sector. I was similarly shocked and disappointed. It was laughable. His palpable disappointment was kind of touching. He may not have a crush on me, but he does like me as a friend, which our argument made clear. We can still be friends, though I won't hold his ridiculous views against him. I'm not prejudiced.

Grateful for: strong opinions.

Oklahoma

Last night, I went to a high school football game in Clayton, NM. Tonight, I did my laundry in El Reno, OK. I'm staying in a crappy motel that feels like heaven due to cable and a bathroom. Ah, the HUGE things. (I "camped" (slept in the van/camper) for the prior three nights.)

The driving today was rough due to high winds. The van does not like mountain passes, but the consequence of driving over them is going slowly. The gusty winds of 20-30 mph mean being blown all over the road and tense shoulders from hanging tightly to the wheel.

Because of van-enforced slowness, I did a lot of my driving today off the freeway. It's much preferred, but the wind, oy, the wind!

I've done no updating thus far due to much less internet than expected. Also, I needed a couple of days to decompress from Mom. And, when with Mom (first three days of the trip), I couldn't write because she'd feel ignored. I finally wrote some notes yesterday and I'll have a longer story to tell when I get back. With pictures even! I'm spending 5-6 hours on the road a day, which isn't much, but the van is tough riding. It vibrates tremendously and is more tiring than driving a "regular" car.

Today, for example, I only made just over 300 miles, but I was on the road from 8am to 5pm. I took an hour for lunch and also made two gas stops, one stop for ice and another 30 minute stop when I ran into a little street festival along my back road route.

Sometimes, it was so scary, that I just had to stop and rest for a bit. Tomorrow, I'll get out of Oklahoma and into Arkansas. Once the plains are done, hopefully the winds will die down.

Obviously, there is no dating to write about, but you might be interested to hear that the Spanish Lessons guy has been in touch, regularly. He sent me several emails while I was in Seattle and actually called the night before I left. Due to Mom and fasting, I didn't call him back. But just last night, he called again, and we had a nice chat. I told him I was going to the high school football game and he wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Well, neither did I, but it seemed like the thing to do.

He asked me if I was lonely. That's an interesting question. I told him that, what with mountain passes, thunderstorms and high winds, I was totally focused on the job of keeping the van on the road. Loneliness didn't enter the picture. I did notice, though, when I had occasion to talk to people, I had a LOT to say. That's normal for me, but I am chattier than usual--because, even thought I'm not thinking about it, I miss talking to people.

When we said goodbye, he told me to be careful several times. I think he's sweet and not a player. Quirky, yes, and possibly not for me, but who knows?

Anyway, that's as close to dating as it gets these days. I'll have some pics up eventually, but I'm too tired to deal with that now. At this rate, I'll be on the road for four more days. I'm looking forward to home! But I will enjoy the rest of the drive if the conditions improve.

Grateful for: the road.

Football

Ah, football. Who would have thought that I would feel compelled to watch Washington's (DC) season opener today? Not I, but it was I who left the house to sit in a bar to watch the game. I wanted to be around other people, though I wasn't feeling too social so I sat at a small table instead of the bar. It was better than being home, even though I left at half time. I paid a lot more attention to the game in the bar than I did when I got back home. The good guys (Washington) won so yay.

I'm fascinated by loyalty to sports teams. I am very loyal. My favorite spectator sport is baseball and my number one team is the Mariners. Next, the Nationals. For college (basketball or football), it's a tie between North Carolina and Washington (Seattle). I have a third college team too, Tennessee, because we lived in Knoxville for six years of my childhood. I can also root for a few New York teams (I was born in NY), but never the Yankees.

What is this about? It's not what I studied but people's tendency to group and divide themselves along socially constructed dimensions (race, ethnicity) is well known. I am against these kinds of divisions--I'm anti-racist, socialist, egalitarian. I don't strictly conform to gender roles and I prefer relationships not solely defined by them.

And yet, I have no problem allying myself to my local sports teams. I live in DC, so I'm a Nationals' fan. (Mariners still come first.) I'm embarrassed, truly, to say I'm a Redskin's fan, but I am. (I don't want to be because I think the team name is a racial slur.) Why? It's the hometown team. I'll also root for the Seahawks and I actually cared when they lost the Super Bowl, much to my surprise.

It's taken many years for football to grow on me. I've watched it my whole life but only very casually. My dad first explained the basic rules of the game to me (downs, scoring, etc.) on Sunday nights when we sat down to watch "60 Minutes" and a game would still be on. He never watched football purposefully. The boys in the neighborhood would ask me to ref their pick up games when I was nine and they explained what the "line of scrimmage" was. I never played, but I understood the game. I didn't like it though, too violent, too hard to watch, too dominated by raving, drunken fans. Throughout college, I didn't go to a single game. Even when I started going to games in grad school, I didn't get very excited about it. But I was at a basketball school.

I like to blame Pele for my current interest in the sport. I'd say she's about 95% responsible. She watches a lot and I'm always game to join her, especially during play offs. That started it. Then there was the boyfriend a while back who loved football and was a big fan of a specific team. We had more than one date to watch his team play. The last boyfriend, he liked football too. But, you know, I'm not sure if it was his idea or mine to watch as many games as we did. I know I wanted to and I assumed he did too. However it happened, now it's for real: I like to watch football and I'll go out of my way for it.

I have some fun with it, especially the year the Seahawks went to the Super Bowl by proclaiming the dominance of my team without knowing much about them. Somehow, though, my proclamations had a ring of truth--or at least, I wanted to believe and I wound up caring. This is why men like sports, right? It's a safe venue in which to vent one's emotions. But the emotions do run high and it can be draining and deflating when your team loses--and elating when they win. Why do we care so much?

Oh, I almost forgot the best part. While riding my bike to the bar to watch the game, a guy in a big white Cadillac (or was it a Lincoln?) pulled up next to me and said, "Hey, are you married?"

I wasn't sure I heard him correctly since we were both in motion. "What?"

"Are you married? Do you have a boyfriend? Can I get your number and take you out some time?"

I laughed. He's trying to pick me up while I'm biking down the street wearing this goofy shirt:

and long brown shorts?

He said, "Is that wrong?"

"No!" I said, "It's not wrong but I have a boyfriend!" (In order to come up with this lie, I had to imagine for a second that I actually had a boyfriend and give him a face and a name. Recent Kansas sightings do have a purpose!)

He turned left at the next intersection and I continued forward...to football.

Grateful for: football.