My oldest son was pleased yesterday.
The rest of us, though, were dying.
I thought about live-blogging the Vikings playoff game but than decided against it. What would have been the point? All I’d be doing is repeating myself.
“Ack! Another turnover!”
“Groan! They dropped the ball again?!”
“No! Not another interception!!”
“Ouch. This game is killing me.”
My near-death experience had nothing to do with these jalapeño poppers, I’m sure.
No, instead it was the ousting of my home team that did me in—a team that has, in my opinion, been a class act all season and who deserved this chance at a Super Bowl win.
They played hard despite those screw-ups, you know?
And not all of the refs’ calls were fair.
My heart went out to our quarterback especially, who, in the words of our local newspaper, took “a season’s worth of punishment” last night. I know that the Saints were supposed to tackle him, but to have hit Favre as hard and in the ways that they did…
Well, I’d best not express my opinion on this matter.
My words would not be ladylike.
This little cutie patootie is Baby Anthony’s godcousin, Timothy. He didn’t care what was happening on the big screen. His birthday cupcakes were done up in team colors and really, that was all that mattered.
Plus he’d just gotten some cool presents.
We watched the game at my friend Tina’s house. Tina grew up on the other side of the river and as such, bleeds green and gold.
She very graciously held her tongue as the Vikings ship was sinking.
Tina, too, is a class act.
(Sidenote: Tina’s daughter Kaylee is not a Vikings fan, either. She donned this contraband apparel only after being dared to do so, and then shrieked, “Don’t put that on your blog!”)
Eventually all was said and done and lost, and there was nothing left to do except pack up our things and go home for another season.
Sigh. We’ll see you next year.
With love and regret and a great big heap of longing, I am