My hubs bounded out of bed this morning. I raised a bleary eyelid in time to
catch him spiking an imaginary pigskin at the foot of the bed, followed by a
spirited rendition of his funky chicken engineer endzone dance. In his best
announcer voice, he intoned "Is anybody ready for some football?" I pulled the
covers back over my head. My "hell, no" was muffled, but adamant. The only thing
good about football season is it really does encourage hors d'oervres and dips.
I love bellying up to a table with lots of dipping options. And chili. One
craves a nice bowl of chili, while one is rooting for one's team. But the game?
Woo. Giant men crashing into one another. Arg! Ooof! It's good! Sack 'em! And
the commercials. Thank you TiVo. The hubs loves it. Not just for the dip,
either. He actually yells at the TV when he gets all worked up. Like that's
gonna help. Granted, I have been known to yell at the TV, too, but usually at
Matt and Sheri on Room by Room. They just get me all fired up. And I did the
funky chicken endzone dance when they eliminated several people off of Survivor.
So it's a family thing. My kids bust out with the Cabbage Patch when they find
all three clues on Blue's Clues. The Wiggles encourage air guitar. I've noticed
that most of the kids shows we watch encourage dancing and yelling out things at
the TV, so I guess we're training 'em young. Go Team.