Utils in Bat Country

Superb Owl Sunday

Someone cleverer than me came up with the Superb Owl phrase and I'm absolutely tickled by it.

As has become random tradition, I hosted T&B for the game last night.  Melty cheese was involved, commercials were laughed at, Tilly didn't know what to do with all the attention.

As my one true football loyalty is to the Jets, I was wearing that tshirt and who I wanted to win the game hadn't been determined.  Was bopping around in the kitchen, finishing things up, half watching early coverage and saw on Twitter that apparently, after the coin toss, the Giants player extended his hand to the Patriots player but the Patriots player turned and walked away.

Well. By sheer virtue of being snotty, the Patriots lost any hope they had of my cheering and my support swung to the Giants.

So nicely played, gentleman.  Even if the winning touchdown was a near replica of a 10 month old pulling themselves to standing and then plopping back down.

(Yes, yes, I know I'm a girl who doesn't understand the intricacies of the game and he was trying to stop but I do not get how scoring a touchdown, during the Superbowl, that puts you in the lead, with less than a minute left to play is a bad thing.  The announcers were all, oh, huge mistake.  Really?  Realllllly?  I don't buy it. If I'm ever in the same position, am barreling towards the end zone, strategies and clock running be damned.  Because you know if I took a knee at the one yard line, the next play would end in a fumble.)

Adagio for my heartstrings

Forget volumes of text. From here on out, when EH asks me what I'm looking for in a relationship, I'm going to respond with someone who will look at me like this:

Superbowls of yum

I don't have a Superbowl party per se but I usually end up having friend's over to watch the game (and this year Glee).  Having pizza tonight so we're not going to repeat on Sunday but given the recipes I'm starring will likely end up with a very non game day odd assortment of food.

Am fascinated with these Crab Tator Tots but am intimidated by the idea of deep frying.  I could bake them, yes?  400 for some until they're brown amount of time?

I also stumbled across this delicousness and while I don't think I'll make the whole cupcake, the filling seems like a delightfully yummy dessert option.  Perhaps I'll dip them in melted chocolate and make truffles (or just leave it in a bowl and give everyone spoons)

Everything else catching my interest lately is of the casserole/stew variety.  Could be good for throughout the day grazing... or maybe not.

But, I have the major game day foods covered - potato, just not in chip form and pretzels, just encased in peanut buttery swaths of sweet.

If I find a stew recipe that calls for beer, I'm totally set.

I <3 and H8 Football...

Football, like so many other things a person can be obsessed with, vacillates between overwhelmingly frustrating and extraordinarily joyous for me. I was raised in the Midwest, and in a twist of football fates the Detroit Lions were my almost-hometown team. And let’s face it, the Lions have been to ONE playoff game since the inception of the Super Bowl. And they lost. So professional football has never been high on my list of Things To Do.

College ball, on the other hand, I watch. Sadly, when I was married, football wasn’t allowed in the house. I mean, there weren’t chains across the TV or anything, but it was generally frowned upon by the person I lived with. I either had to wait until the house was empty, or head over to watch games with my folks. Which was fine, we had a little routine down on Saturdays in the fall, and it was great. Furthermore, my dad and I used to split tickets to go see the University of Michigan every season. Hell, last season I drove from DC back to Michigan to see the UofM/Ohio State game. I planned to leave right after work, but instead went out with a buddy, and didn’t leave the house until about 9 at night. It’s an 8 hour drive, so I stopped part way, slept in my car, and then drove on. By the time I rolled into my parent’s driveway, it was 7am, and dad was loading the truck to go tailgate. So off we went. Following the game, we went back to the house, where I slept for 30 minutes, and then went out partying with my friends.

But I digress. The point was football.

Anyone raised cheering on a team that historically does well is aware of the idea that bad seasons might occur. Bad losses happen on occasion (see: Michigan and Appalachian State a couple years ago), but on the whole certain schools assume winning seasons. Ohio State. Michigan. Notre Dame. USC. Florida. Miami (Florida). When teams like that have down seasons, it’s something that gets talked about.

In 2007, Michigan’s head coach, Lloyd Carr, retired. After the App State loss, Michigan kind-of regrouped, and ended the season on a really high note. Then Carr left, and a new coach came in. RichRod went 3-9 his first season and 5-7 last year. While the team has looked good in the first two games of this season (and really, who DOESN’T like beating Notre Dame and all their pomposity?), we’ve got a weak defensive line and a running quarterback who stands a good chance of either winning a Heisman or getting his neck broken. (I don’t know enough about the Xs and Os of football to go into great detail here, nor would I bore the majority of our ten readers with it. Suffice it to say, QBs who are mobile are wonderful wonderful things, but they damn well better be tough as nails.)

Which brings me back to my point. Watching the game Saturday was an exercise in how many times Tassie could a) sound like Yosemite Sam, as I was watching the game in the presence of a 2.5 year old for the first half or b) alternately pull out my hair whilst dropping the f-bomb and basically hop up and down on my neighbor’s couch, once she and said child left. [For the record, I don’t have a TV. And while I could watch the game on my laptop, Nas has a very nice TV and likes football. And even made me a sandwich while I watched the game. So, kinda like having a wife, in the really good way.]

Michigan went back and forth between playing inspired football and looking like doofuses. They won the game by the skin of their teeth, and not before trying to give it away in the final couple of minutes. That was the frustrating part. Of course, when you ponder the fact that the majority of the kids out on the field are between the ages of 18 and 22, and that Michigan has been under a giant College Football Microscope for the last three seasons because of the sudden reversal of fortune and because of rules violations, it’s surprising that they played as well as they did. Of course, I’m routinely impressed by any 180 pound dude who stands still with a football, looking for someone to throw it to while a 300 pound guy runs at him head-on and tries to break him in half. THAT’S poise, in my book.

Michigan football has always been like this. Other teams can breathe easy when they get up by two or three touchdowns in a game. Michigan fans know that’s when we should start getting concerned. Saturday was a prime example of that.

I will, of course, watch as many games this season as I can. I’ll miss a couple because of these Saturday classes I’m taking (and let’s not EVEN go there right now), but I’ll live, and perhaps have them DVRed for me. And although I’d like to be confident that the 2010 season is The Season RichRod will turn it all around, I expect the worst and hope for the best.

And so, next weekend while I’m sitting with my parents in Ohio, we’ll find the game on satellite radio and sit around my truck yelling. And being frustrated. And joyous. And everything in between.

Hell. At least we won’t be listening to the Lions.

EDITED TO ADD: The Wolversines snuck into the top 25... in a moment of weakness on the part of voters, not only did Michigan make it into the top 25, we vaulted to #20 from unranked previously. We've got a couple of (should be) cupcakes on the schedule in the next two weeks, so we should be able to stay there. We shall see what happens once we hit the Big Ten Eleven Twelve Ten season.

Moving, Wha?

I close on my house on the 20th (how many times can one say "on" in a sentence?) Thus, one would think the smart thing to do would be to spend a three-day weekend packing, and then spend the weekend before closing packing some more.

And you would be wrong, my friends. Very very very wrong. The proper way to handle the ZOMGIMMOVINGINTWOWEEKS thing is to do...nothing. And knit. Yes, this will prove great in the long run.

Furthermore, the weekend before your Tuesday closing date, you should, without a doubt, go camping. AT LEAST four hours away from your current- or even your soon-to-be- home. In fact, it's best if you go at least 10 hours away. Like from DC to almost Dayton, Ohio. THAT'S brains, folks. Smart smart smart. And so, because it is the smart thing to do, it is what I shall do. Because I belong to this crazy Civil War thing (Oh, that is, in and of itself, it own blog post for the winter months), and our last get-together of the year (we call them "shoots") is this weekend. And I cannot be left out of this. I cannot stay home and pack and plan to move, when I know that 100 of my closest friends will be outside of Dayton, camping in 40 degree weather, and shooting guns. I MUST GO. I MUST BE A PART OF THE GROUP. I MUST SEE MY PEOPLE. I MUST SHOOT MY MUSKET ONE MORE TIME THIS FALL. I MUST CAMP WHEN THERE WILL BE FROST ON THE GROUND. YES.

Anyway.

The other thing I did this weekend, other than nothing and watching a good portion of season two of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (again) along with a good number of football games on Saturday (do not EVEN talk to me about the ridiculousness that is pulling your starting QB out of the game for the final drive, wherein you COULD have won the game, but instead putting in the backup who them throws an interception almost immediately and ends the game and ZOMG GAH), was (where was I going when this sentence started?) KNIT. OH YES. THE KNITTING.

See, I knit. Sometimes. Except that I got part way through two projects that required changing color in the middle of a row (commonly called intarsia, except whenever I say that to knitters, half of them look at me like I'm insane and don't know what I'm talking about. Except every book in the known universe uses that word. But, I digress. Again.)

Anyway. I came to a point wherein I could not knit on either project because I could NOT figure this fucking intarsia thing out. I watched the little videos online, and I read how to do it online, and in a couple of books, and ZOMG CANNOT DO. And then, I opened my Stitch and Bitch Nation to the back, where there are little directions written out, as well as kind of crummy illustrations. And I READ how to do it, ignoring the pictures completely. And lo, there was a color change mid-row and no gaping hole of horribleness. And lo, again, switching from color to color came with ease. AND LOOK, the design I was hoping for was magically appearing on the piece I was knitting. And thus, a project I started back in the winter was finally coming to a close. I did not finish it last night, but once I've packed some boxes tonight (hush, mom, I'm really going to fo it!), I shall power through a few more rows at the least. It's a tea pot cozy, and it shall be amazing. Pictures will be posted when I'm done. And then I can pick back up that sweater I was working on last year, and finish it as well. It won't look great, I already know that based on a couple of holes I can already see (hello, weaving in ends to mask gaps in my knitting), but it sure did feel good to get back to the knitting. I have more yarn to work through before I can allow myself to purchase any more, so it looks like I'll be learning how to make socks next...

Oh, yeah. And moving. Next week. Hiding my head in the sand about that, until the last possible moment.

On football, the Beatles, and buying a house

On Football.

Thankfully, my Michigan Wolverines seem to have overcome a preseason week of whiny players and media frenzy with a win on Saturday. Yes, it was against a MAC team. But, see last season, wherein they lost to the Toledo Rockets. And they played well. And the crowd was really loud. And good. Because we play Notre Dame this weekend, and we'll need everything to fall perfectly into place if we wanna win that one.

On the Beatles.

I care not what you say, I have always loved the Beatles. From the time I was a small child until today. Love them. And now they have rereleased all of their albums, digitally remastered and in stereo. And this is lovely. And it's only on CD.

Ahem.

True audiophiles will tell you, with narry a sarcastic glance, that the proper was to listen to any recording is on vinyl. The sound quality you get, with a good record player, needle, and set of speakers, is far far far superior to any digital form of music you can come up with. And, let us not forget that the Beatles were orignally released on vinyl. And vinyl sales are INCREASING right now, because so many people get their music online, but those of us who still *get* music want to collect it in its best possible form. Hence, I drop $15-25 at concerts for actual LPs of bands I like enough to see live. So, one would THINK that the fucking BEATLES would release their stuff on vinyl. And one would be wrong. So, if I acquire this new release, it would probably not be in a legal way. Big black disk? I will pay money for. Little silver disk of stupidity? Not so much.

Buying a House.

I am (for all intents and purposes) divorced. If he would ever just turn the paperwork in. But I am fully, legally seperated. Fine. I live in an apartment in DC, where the cost of living is ASTRONOMICAL and I pay a fuckpile for a basement. Yes, I could live elsewhere for cheaper if I were willing to have roommates. But guess what? I am not. And thus, I live.

I got it into my head a couple of months ago that I wanted to buy a house. No wait. First I wanted to move to Baltimore, because I'm pretty sure my people are there. Then, while looking at places to rent, I realized I could buy something, pay roughly the same as I'm paying now, and paint the walls hot pink at 4am on a Tuesday if I felt so inclined. So I started searching. First, I couldn't find a realtor I wanted to deal with. They wouldn't get back to me, they were condescending, they were overselling. And then I stumbled upon a guy (who proudly proclaimed to me last night that he was NOT a douchebag) who has been nothing but helpful and great.

Except that I still can't have a house. I have done the bulk of the paperwork for the mortgage. A few more things, and that's all set. I've found houses I wanted. Three of them, in fact. I have bid on all of them. The first house, the seller didn't want to negotiate, so when my bid was "too low" he simply rejected it. OK, fine. The second house was WAY underpriced for the neighborhood, and someone put in a bid the day I did, at substantially more than the asking price. Fine, I understand that one. The third one had three bidders, and I was in the middle. There are several things occruing around that one, and there's still a chance I could get it, but whatevs. I'm looking elsewhere. Since then, First House Guy came back and said they'd take my top offer, but but but, and then listed some requirements THEY had. So? They can go fuck themselves.

And so, I still have no house. I've seen some great things and some terrible things. I was just unaware that the exact moment I would decide to buy a house, the Baltimore market would spring back into life, and WHAMMO, I can has...Nothing.

In short. I am happy I can watch football this weekend with at least a small bit of confidence that my team won't suck donkey balls. I am sad that I cannot have the Beatles on vinyl unless I buy your dad's old copy of Yellow Submarine. And I'm frustrated about my lack of house. But at least my realtor isn't a douchebag.

Football and Whiny Pants

I'm back. It's been a long four weeks, replete with a trip to Chicago (by air), a trip to Ohio (north of Dayton, by car, with dogs, 12 hours, don't ask), a weekend of nothing, followed by a sudden Monday trip, by car, with dogs, to Michigan, when my uncle died unexpectedly last week. But I have returned to DC, to my life, to searching for a house in Baltimore, etc.

Only to have my goddam Michigan Wolverine football team explode in on itself.

Look, I love football. College football especially, but really, football. I'd watch the CFL if that was on TV and I could see it. Watching plays unfold, watching guys do what, in many ways, guys shouldn't be able to do. One handed, endzone catches to win the game with seconds ticking away on the game clock. Giving and receiving tackles that would kill a lesser mortal. The thrill of fighting for those few inches needed to make the first down, stop the clock, and get that fieldgoal kicker out onto the turf.*

My dad and I have had Michigan season tickets for years now. Back when Damon worked at athletics, tickets were part of your salary package. When he quit the department, they were kind enough to allow him to buy his tickets and become a season ticket holder. When I moved last year, there was a discussion. Do we give up the tickets? Or do we buy them again, just to hold onto them? We bought, and have been selling them off (all but Ohio State, which I shall go to if I have to WALK back to Ann Arbor for it). [Also, if you'd like to purchase tickets for any of the first few games (WSU, EMU, Indiana) let me know. We're selling them for face value.)

Fast forward to a couple of days ago. I call my mom, to make sure she's handling the loss of her only sibling. And she is. And then she mentions a newspaper article about Michigan's football team. So, while we talk, I jump on espn.com, because newsprint is dead, long live up-to-the-minute-sports-reporting on the internet. And here we have some players, mostly former Michigan players, crying to their mamas about how much WORK football is. How they are routinely kept at practice for longer than the NCAA allotted weekly time limit for training and practice. Twelve hour days, people. Weight-lifting, core training, massages, seven-and-sevens, cry cry cry.

[Let me say, right now, if you're one of those folks who thinks college football is a terrible, horrible, rotten, no-good-for-universities institution...well, you can just shut the hell up for right now. I know your arguments, and I agree with them in many many ways. This does not, however, make me any less of a fan, nor does it make me feel bad for these whining mamas-boys.]

ANYWAY. Many of the things these kids are complaining about are not mandatory. They are voluntary. Yes, it is very possible that excusing yourself from these voluntary exercises might be bad for your starting position on the team. At the same time, without doing a little extra work (or a lot), how can you expect to start on a major college football team? (And screw you, if you even THINK about mentioning last season's record, or argue that Michigan is no longer a powerhouse football program. It will be back.)

Commentators have already said that football programs across the country operate like this, but only Michigan's players have the idealism to whine and complain about it. And I'm sure they're right. Hell, one underclassman player has already refused to be named in the media because he fears the retribution of fans. Son, don't fear what the fans will say. Fear your position on the team.

If it's really THAT bad, if we're harkening back to Bear Bryant style football practices, then yes, something should be done about things. Refusing to give kids water in 100 degree heat waves during summer practices should never be encouraged. But these kids are on the team voluntarily. If they're working too hard on football, they should, perhaps, do what others have done and leave the program. Eventually, RichRod will put together a group of kids who ARE willing to go the extra mile, who ARE willing to do the extra work, and THAT'S how you create a championship team in modern college football.

Either that, or you whine to the press, and look like even bigger wusses than you did last year, when you FUCKING LOST TO FUCKING TOLEDO.

*Insert bad joke about Appalachian State University here.

EDIT:WHEN OHIO STATE PLAYERS AND COACHES ARE DEFENDING MICHIGAN'S FOOTBALL PROGRAM, YOU KNOW THE PLAYERS ARE JUST WHINY LITTLE SHITS WHO NEED TO GET THEIR ASSES BACK ON THE FUCKING PRACTICE FIELD.