All I have to say is, I LOVED watching that Superbowl last night. Loved, loved, loved it. Cheering for the Cardinals was just so much fun, especially since they were doing so well, and especially since all my cheering and praying started making all the Steelers fans in the house nervous, since it seemed to be working.
The best part was when I bet my husband 50 cents--yes, 50 cents--I'm feeling rather poor--that the Cardinals would hold the Steelers at the goal line and keep them from scoring again (I think it was their 4th drive--and the Cardinals had been doing a fairly good job at it). Anyway, I was out that 50 cents for all of 1 minute, even though I was screaming, Challenge the call!--until they did, and yes, the touchdown was reversed. ...Thanks to that beautiful thing called, review of play, I was 50 cents richer. Too bad I hadn't risen to the challenge and made the bet at $50 bucks, like my husband was taunting me to do. That would've been a glorious thing.
OH well. I wanted a fun game, and I got one. I think it was the best bowl I've seen yet. It was so good, even my husband cheered for the Cards at one point--because that's what good football does. Or any good game, cause there's no denying good, good playing when you see it, no matter which side of the line it falls on.
In other news, ---WHATDOYA know..... It's Groundhog Day!!! I don't know what the weather held back in PA this morning, but it's been sun-shining all day here, which means.....too many more weeks of WINTER.
Well, okay. I like to ski, and more snow would be nice, but if winter's gonna be hanging around, tell that Groundhog to keep all the white stuff up on the slopes where we need it. We don't need any down here in the burbs, or more specifically, in my drive. Because if I get any more snow and need to go shovel, I may just go pull that hog out of his hole and make him get it all off himself. With his tongue, or his nose, or his burry brown coat.....
If you made through all those long sentences to the end of this post. Hurray! You just may be ready to sit through an episode of HOUSE. Did you see last week's? Did you understand any of it toward the end when his private investigator was talking mumbojumbojulkigidygook before inspiring that ever-burning bulb to light-up in dear, old, Gruffity-Gruff's head? I don't think the actors knew what they were saying, either. Which doesn't necessarily mean--if you're trying to go full circle here in my post--that I don't know what I'm writing now. Because I do. Just in a long-winded, spangdingingly kind of way. Which seems to be the trending way to flow.
So, in closing, to buck the trend, I'll be brief....