After the Ball Is Over, so to speak

Post Superbowl note: Rich spent most of his time at Cowboy Stadium, and almost all of the actual game, stationed on the Green Bay sideline, at the Green Bay 10 yard line. He did spend a little time in one of the tunnels, where he was almost run over by Jerry Jones. (Jones, not surprisingly under those circumstances, was taking large strides and assuming everyone and everything would simply get out of his way.) Usher passed by him on the sideline, texting while he walked to and from the stage (fortunately, he's got all his People to keep him from running into things…or to get the things out of his way — see Jerry Jones, above). Guy Fieri brushed up against him in a tunnel, which Rich didn't notice, but the fellow standing next to him was a Guy fan and did sort of a manly swoon. Michael Douglas was on the field a few feet away, and Jesse Jackson shook Rich's hand (not for any particular reason except that Jackson was working the crowd and Rich happened to be standing there). And he saw Michael Strahan from a distance (Strahan was in some VIP area).

I really, really wish Rich could have met Strahan. Not because he's particularly in awe of a football player (we're hockey fans, after all), but because at every Dallas Stars game they play the Michael Strahan/Donovan McNabb Dr. Pepper commercial on the JumboTron, and Rich laughs at it every single time. It's just one of those things that happens to tickle him, no matter how many times he's seen it. It would have been cool if they could have met, though I'm not sure how he would have explained why it was such a pleasure to meet Strahan without a rather unwieldy explanation.

He said, too, that the Black Eyed Peas' (who also trooped by him going on and off the stage) performance was very impressive, mostly because of the LEDs on the costumes (which tells you right there that Rich is, at heart, a technogeek).

One other, non-Superbowl note: Our local Albertson's is closing. Besides being very sad about it (I am), I'm joining in the feeding frenzy: they have everything on sale. This includes the contents of their in-store Dallas Cowboys shop. There are some items there that have to have been unearthed from a dark corner of some warehouse somewhere. They include back—way back—issues of the official Dallas Cowboys Star Magazine (they had plenty of copies of March '09 available today).

And they have these:

Yes, that's a ten-foot-tall inflatable Tony Romo. The price when I took the photo a few weeks ago was $39.99. It's now reduced to $29.99. First of all, can anyone tell me why they have this to sell? I mean, seriously, who bought them? For what purpose? What would you do with it? Secondly, and—really—this is the point: If you want to add to your collection of Very Large Inflatables of Sports Figures Who Never Should Have Gotten Involved With Jessica Simpson, you better act fast. At this price, they're not going to be around…oh, never mind!

It's Superbowl Sunday, and other facts

• It's 4pm on Superbowl Sunday and I've already had too much beer and nachos. Why, no, I'm not at Cowboy Stadium. I'm at home by myself. Why?

• Rich is at the Superbowl, working on the Game Day Frequency Coordination team. They're wearing all black (NFL-supplied shirts and jackets, their own pants) and red baseball caps with a big "GDC" on them. Rich showed me his Superbowl credentials, a badge on a chain that he has to wear around his neck. It has a star on it, and allows the GDC folks to go anywhere and everywhere. I kind of shivered a little. And I'm jealous, though I don't care which team wins (if the Cowboys aren't there, then…what. ever). But it's such a special event, with an atmosphere of excitement and celebration. Maybe he'll tell me about it, after his long workday is done. He had to be there at 7am, but left really, really early in case the roads were still icy.

• I'm recording the pre-game show because I actually think I might get a glimpse of him or one of our friends. Sometimes I'm just adorable.

• The dogs are finally back inside after spending most of this nice (relatively) warm, sunny day outside. FYI, letting your dogs spend hours and hours out in the fresh air and sunshine, vigilantly keeping watch for marauding squirrels, has about the same effect as knocking their little heads together. Except with more snoring.

• We have too much stuff. Specifically, I have too much stuff, a lot of it stored in the wreck of a closet in our guest bedroom. I've spent some time today working on cleaning it out and getting it organized. I'm not that good at organizing overstuffed closets. I tend to spend way too much time wringing my hands, trying to decide what to do.

• We have eight, count 'em, eight "spare" pillows in that closet. I don't know what I was thinking we should be prepared for. This is a good example of the kind of stuff I'm finding.

• Since I'm having trouble coming up with a closet plan, I believe I'll just go back to beer and nachos. That was working pretty well.

Happy Superbowl, everybody!

Icepocalypse or Snowmageddon

Yes, we had rain. It converged with a major cold front, starting temperatures falling, so the rain turned to sleet, then eventually to snow. Highs are in the 20s, overnight lows in the single digits, with wind chills below zero. For two days now; one—maybe two—more to go. The DFW Metroplex is actually equipped to handle some snowfall and ice. But not with temps this low, and not for this long. It's been…interesting.

Rich realized on Monday morning that he needed to be in San Antonio this week, so he left at lunchtime. He's out of the cold, but not the rolling blackouts. (Heh.) I'm having a rollicking good time making sure the birds and feral cats (felis in Dei diligentiam) have food and [liquid] water. I watch the dogs while they're out in the back yard, since there's snow & ice on the pool deck, and Andy has taken to getting too close to the edge for my comfort. The water in the pool has that thick look to it, the way it does when it's really, really cold. I watch the dogs so that if Andy falls in (it won't be J, she keeps well away from the edge), I'll have the chance to jump in the freezing cold water and rescue him, assuming we both survive.

Andy in the snow. (It's the same photo I put on Facebook. I rather like it.) There's snow on his muzzle because he was snuffling in the snow, finding things and eating them. I don't think it was, um, anything the feral cats left there, because they don't come into the pool yard any more. I think it was acorns. Yeah. We'll go with acorns. In any case, he was having lots of fun, tearing around madly, until I insisted he stop so I could take his picture. He continued having fun immediately after this.




I've reorganized a closet. I've been knitting, focusing exclusively on one project I'd really like to get finished. As a result, I'm now toying with the idea of just throwing it away instead. (Short knitting attention span. I had to switch to something else a few hours ago.) I've spent a completely inordinate amount of time on Facebook and Twitter. And I've re-watched all of Doctor Who seasons 1 & 2, and have started on 3.

I have not:

• Started my car
• Put on makeup
• Cooked (unless you count that grilled cheese last night)
• Worn real clothes
• Emptied the trash

since Monday. The trash thing is starting to become an issue.

One more day.

Happy anniversary to me!

Five years ago, I was having a mastectomy. Actually, the surgery was at 2:15pm, so five years ago right this minute I was probably finishing up a pre-op appointment with the plastic surgeon (Hi, Dr. Heistein!). I believe my instructions were no food or water after midnight, so I was very thirsty and pretty tense. I don't remember a lot of details about that day (honestly, probably due to the no water thing as much as anxiety; thirst is pretty distracting), but I remember checking into the hospital at about noon and pleading — pleading — with the intake nurse to let me keep my underpants on. For some reason it was really important to me. (I guess sometimes a woman just needs her underpants to feel secure, you know?) She kindly relented and let me wear them during the surgery, and I do realize that's not actually a detail you really needed to know.

I also remember the anesthesiologist telling me, "I've given you the happy juice," and I responded, "Okay. Bye-bye." I was obviously right about the bye-bye part, since that's all I remember until I woke up back in my room.

I did, at some point, think I ought to take a last look at my left breast before it and I parted company. I don't think I did, though, and honestly I wasn't all that sentimental about it. No angst. I was okay, as long as it leaving also ended the breast cancer thing. Of course, in the following months, I had times when I lay in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I had made the right choice.

Well, five years later, I can tell you I believe I did. My chances of recurrence went down dramatically because I opted for mastectomy, and that's something I can sincerely appreciate.

So, anyway, today's going to be a good day, pretty much however it goes.

Hello? Hello?

I have a bunch of really great topics that I plan to blog about, but only have time for a quick note right now. [Liar, liar, pants on fire, nose as long as a telephone pole.*] Yeah, well, anyway.

I don't think anybody besides me ever reads this blog, because there are virtually never any comments, but I get an email every week with some site statistics. They tell me how many visitors my blog has had that week, how many first time visitors, and so on. And I'm always surprised that all the numbers aren't zero every time.

So here's a test. A spot check, if you will, to make sure that StatCounter.com isn't just making numbers up to keep from hurting my feelings.

We have season tickets to the Dallas Stars (if you actually know me, this is not a surprise to you). There's one game in a few weeks when Rich will be out of town, and I'll need someone to go with me. There are a few more games over the holidays that we'll miss. If you're a hockey fan and you want two free tickets and a parking pass to these games, just leave a comment and they're yours.

I need a buddy to go with me on 11/18 (vs the San Jose Sharks; always an enthusiastic game)

I'm offering two tickets & a parking pass for:

• 11/20 against the Colorado Avalanche
• 11/26 against the St. Louis Blues
• 12/21 against the Montreal Canadiens
• 12/23 against the Calgary Flames
• 12/26 against the Phoenix Coyotes

So…anybody there?

*A tribute to my sister Linda's third graders early in her teaching career. She kept trying to tell them it's "…nose as long as a telephone wire," so it'll rhyme, but they informed her that wouldn't make sense. So pole it is.

  

Books

Yes, I know how long it's been.

I've spent a good portion of the day entering books into LibraryThing. It's a good, free to cheap way to keep your personal library organized. I have trouble keeping track sometimes, particularly with business books (not the ones I've read, but the ones in the queue) and knitting books (did I buy it or just want to buy it?), so I decided I needed to get organized. (If you saw how books are scattered on shelves throughout out house, you'd understand how I could lose track.) And as someone who's stood in a bookstore wondering if I've read a particular cozy, it seemed like a good—nay, great—idea to be able to access the info from my phone's web browser. I know I've read all the Southern Sisters mysteries because there aren't many of them, but I sometimes have trouble keeping track of those Chocoholic and Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom ones.

At the end of the day today, I know two things for sure:

1. I seriously need some paying work.
2. I have way too many lace knitting books. Frankly, I've learned that my attention span is not really going to permit me to knit anything recognizable as lace, so it's not something I pursue. Why do I have all these books?

Connections

I'm reaching the deadline on a big project today, but I thought I'd jot this down before I forget it.

An old friend, Lisa Bailey, did something really nice for me last week. (Really, really nice. I mean, WAY above and beyond). Besides feeling incredibly, eternally grateful, just thinking about her, emailing and talking to her many times over a few days reminded me of something else. I actually think of Lisa every time I drink champagne.

We had this experience in Germany some years back. (I won't mention just how long ago it was, but you'll have an idea when I say it was West Germany at the time.) Lisa and I were both in a dance group that was doing a little tour of the country, and in Munich all the members of the group had the chance to stay in the homes of members of a similar group there. Lisa and I stayed with Karl. We had a fine time, and the night we were leaving on the overnight train to Frankfurt, Karl opened a bottle of champagne to toast to our visit.

This brings me to the reason for the Lisa–champagne connection. She doesn't drink anything carbonated. Not soda, not sparkling wine, nothing. She doesn't like it. Of course, she was much too polite to refuse a glass, under the circumstances, but was kind of in a dilemma because she really didn't want to drink it. I knew all of this, so I waited until Karl's back was turned and quietly emptied Lisa's glass into mine. As I remember (and it is a little fuzzy), I did that a few times. I whispered to her (at least I hope I whispered), "You better make sure I get on that train tonight!"

She did, apparently, and we made it back. Years have passed, and yet every time I raise a glass of champagne, I think of her.

Isn't that funny? People leave these indelible marks on our lives, sometimes significant but also sometimes kind of goofy. Presumably, we leave those same marks, too, without even knowing it. Maybe that's just as well, maybe it's a shame. Would it be good to know exactly how and why people remember us?

In any case, there you go, Lisa. You're with me forever, or at least as long as I drink champagne.

Next time I'll talk about Ruth, green food and crumbs on the keyboard!