I don’t like football. There, I said it. I don’t even know anybody else who doesn’t like it. My family loves it. My husband always says he doesn’t like it, but he watches it all the time, so I guess he’d be in the stands if he actually liked it. Peter and Jake and Ally and Ally’s boyfriend, Elijah, and Riley are all downstairs watching USC vs. UCLA. I tried to watch. I put on my sweatshirt to catch the spirit. I did a couple rounds of the fight song, but I just couldn’t get excited. It’s so violent. Plus it’s boring. Plus I really never know what exactly is happening.
It’s just not my thing. It’s like fish, I want to like it, but I just don’t.
So, I’m upstairs perusing The Christmas Book from Neiman Marcus, marveling at stuff like The Dream Trip to India for $400,000, and the Iris Apfel Trunk of Accessories for $800,000 and The World View exploration at the Edge of Space for $90,000. I find it so much more fun than watching guys set one another up for life-long arthritis, and Trauma Related Brain Disease.
Anyway, I like hearing the family screaming downstairs, knowing they’re having fun. I’m grateful for that. I imagine next year, when Ally comes back from college and the sound of two kids hasn’t been heard in the house for a few months, I will like it even more.
