Emerging in the New Year

Happy New Year! No, I have not been hiding under a rock - but merely taking a break from all things "normal" in life and mourning the upcoming end of football season. We had a FABULOUS New Year's Eve, filled with fun and friends and as you can see here, the traditional sparklers. Sparklers create a LOT of smoke, so it was tough to get good photographs. Everyone behaved themselves, and I was able to crawl into bed by 4:00AM, with all the dishes complete and only one sleepover guest (who had planned to sleepover days ago, and had given us fair warning).
Better yet, I only gained one measly pound during the holiday season. Yesterday, I cuddled up on the couch and immersed myself in the BCS Bowl games. I even stayed up VERY LATE to watch the end of the Boise State/OU game, possibly the most thrilling game I've seen in ages. I am a football addict and married one of the few men on the planet who could care less if football existed. He will watch a game with me every so often, but usually he rolls his eyes and goes in the other room to watch the History Channel or the Military Channel. He has never understood my obsession with the sport, even though I've tried to explain how phenomenal the athletes must be to endure their beatings, week after week...to leap into the air to catch a floating spiral...to land with at least one foot inbounds...but it is to no avail. The other night, I was lamenting the end of NCAA play, and it hit me. What if Roger could only watch the History Channel 18 weeks out of the year, and then only on Saturdays, Sundays, sometimes Mondays and Thursdays, and only at specific times (provided there are no "blackouts")? As I proposed this to him, I noticed his face change. "Besides," I continued, "You ALWAYS know how things are going to end up on the History Channel. You ALWAYS know who is going to win. It's not like the Germans might turn it all around if you miss ONE EPISODE."

He was very understanding last night, as I insisted on catching the end (and OVERTIME, at that!) of the game. I had migrated to the bedroom, trying to stay up long enough to see the finish, and he was well on his way to dreamland. He didn't smack me a single time, as I would shout, "No WAY!" or "I can't BELIEVE it!" or "UNREAL!" - though I know I woke him up. Maybe he won't look at me like I'm a freak, the next time I spend an entire day watching football. (And if you have no idea how fantastic the ending of this game was, read up on the details here. Nothing like a game where 22 points are scored in the final 1:26 of regulation play!)