Dear Bulldogs,

Thank you.

Thank you for making my Saturday fabulous even though I never left the comfort of my home.  Thank you for showing the nation that we are not an automatic win on everyone else's schedule.  Thanks for battling in hostile territory against a team who, in all honesty, has more talent.  Thank you for my constant feeling of nausea for approximately 3 hours.  Thank you for trying your hardest for 60 minutes. Thank you for making my husband scream, flail, and do strange dances in the living room.  Thank you for the great publicity you gave our wonderful university.  Thank you for making me feel as if I were in college again.  Thank you for getting us just a little closer to making plans for a bowl game.  Thank you for letting me be a proud member of the Bulldog Nation. I always love you, Bullies.  It's just that tonight I love you a whole lot more. 

 I won't mention that you may have made my husband tear up with happiness tonight--not that he minded at all.   

Much love and Hail State!

Why is it that...

Sam is always waaaay more excited to see his daddy than me?  Don't get me wrong--the kid loves me, but when I walk in from somewhere, his response is, "Oh,--hey, Mom."  As in, "I thought someone was missing, but I wasn't really worried about it."

When Anthony walks in, it's like a ticker-tape parade around here.  "It's Dad! It's Dad! Come here, Dad.  Let's play basketball." 

Maybe I should start shooting hoops. 

Sometimes I feel like somebody's watchin' me...

So I may have mentioned that the house we bought last May had been sitting unoccupied for quite a while.  At least it was unoccupied by humans. 

Shortly after moving in, we awoke to the sound of bumps and thumps in the attic.  Quite unnerving at 3:00 in the a.m., let me tell you.  The guy who was working on our house at the time told us that it was probably squirrels or raccoons.  He sprayed some fox urine (yes, you read correctly--I don't know who in the world collects or sells fox urine, but it must be an interesting line of work)  in the eaves of our house, and we didn't have visitors for about 6 weeks. We thought everything was fine.

Then fall actually decided to flirt with the idea of sticking around.  Our furry friend(s?) got cold and  decided to move back in.  Not cool.  They are noisy neighbors, and they never pay rent.  We knew there was no choice but to call....The Critter Catcher.  Yep, that's his title.  Seriously. 

He came and set a  no-kill trap, and the next morning we met our squatter.

She's awfully cute, isn't she?  I was glad to know that The Critter Catcher takes the animals back out into the country and releases them into their natural habitat.  It made me feel better about evicting our raccoon friend. 

Admit it...

Pretty much every woman in the world finds it attractive if a man is musically inclined--especially the piano or guitar.  (Unless you're the guy who was almost 50, three sheets to the wind, and playing the guitar ALL AFTERNOON LONG before the Georgia game.  You, my friend, need to find another way to pick up chicks.)  But I digress...

All I know is when I was a freshman, it seemed that a guy could be a little short in the looks/personality department, yet still have plenty of dates because he could strum a tune. My friends, Sam has already figured out that music opens up all kinds of doors in the dating world.  However, his instrument of choice is the     oh-so-soothing...

Xylophone. 

Laugh now, but the kid can kill it.  I'll be happy to send him to your house for practice sessions.  Just let me know. 

Season Opener...

Saturday was eventful to say the least.  Where to even start?

My dear, sweet, husband had worked his hardest to secure a place for us to stay as a family after the ballgame.  On our way into town, we decided to find it and check it out. Well, let's just say that after seeing it, I was extremely skeptical, and that's an understatement.  I think what I actually said was, "I hope nobody's cooking crystal meth next door."  Seriously.  Not exaggerating.  Not even a little. 

However...maintaining Anthony's gameday mentality is a must.  It's what he lives for, and I didn't want to ruin the day.  I can deal with just about anything for one night, right? It's okay if there are stray animals on a gravel road with dirty diapers in the driveway--I can deal.  I just kept telling myself that.    

Moving on.  Sam's performance was pretty darn good.  Except for the fact that we've been working on potty-training, and he chose Saturday to have stomach issues.  TMI.  I know.  He really was great.  He loves a cowbell, and he loves Bully, so Saturday was a great day for him.  He ate an inordinate amount of sweets, but that's no real surprise. 

Anthony went into the game and left the 2 of us at our tailgate to watch the game there.  I got to see us come out of the tunnel, and then....kids throwing a football knocked over the satellite.  I didn't get to see the game at all.  Ask me how unhappy I was.  Just ask me. 

I'll tell you.  I was furious.  We had warned them multiple times to watch out, but they didn't seem to care.  And they were old enough to know better.  I was bitter to say the least.

Anthony came out at the half to get some tylenol for a headache, and we decided that we would leave a check for the people whose house we rented, mess up the sheets, and head home after the game.  Thank. The. Lord. 

It was a long day with some complications, but Sam was great, the Dawgs played well, and I didn't have to stay in a crack-house.  Pretty good day. 

Gameday Eve Schedule...

1.  Arrive at practice facility in my shiny ride.  Check out my rims--8 1/2 inches. 

2.  Sign some autographs.  Go over my playbook one last time with the coaches.  Looks like I need to be on my best behavior tomorrow.  I don't want any penalty flags thrown, and I certainly don't want to burn all of my timeouts. 

3.  Pre-game meal.  Nothing gets me ready for gameday like PB&J with juice. 

4.  Watch some game film. 

5.  Take one last nap---with my pom pom. (and my books, xylophone, blocks, and George sheets.) 

We're ready.

Can I Get An Amen...

I'm pretty sure I complain about this every year.  Does anybody else have the trouble that I do finding something appropriate to wear to the first football game of the year?  It is such a pain, and it stresses me out every time.

For those of you who live in cool weather climates, this isn't a problem.  For the residents of the Dirty South, it's a massive issue.  I don't know about you, but I hate buying super summery stuff this late in the fall, especially when Labor Day is this weekend.  On top of that, all stores are pushing their fall/winter merchandise, which I won't be able to wear until at least October because of the heat. 

My criteria for football wear:

1.  In the heat I prefer a dress--nothing binding, lots of breathing room.

2.  Something that doesn't require "special" undergarments.  Who wants to deal with that all day?

3.  An outfit that isn't too short, but not too long.  I'm not that tall.

4.  Something that I can wear with fairly comfortable shoes, but I'm willing to sacrifice some comfort for  some cuteness.

5.  And the kicker for this week--they've asked MSU fans to wear white.  Since I'm chasing Sam at the tailgate, I can't even go into the game, but I'd like to at least try to be in the spirit.  I'm hoping cream will count, because it's all I've got.

Next week they're asking for people to wear maroon, which is a whole 'nother bag of tricks.  I wish other schools knew how good they have it when trying to buy something cute in their respective colors. 

Blue? Easy.  Red? Beyond easy.  Purple? Not quite as easy, but doable.

Maroon?  Wow.  Just wow.  I usually end up in something magenta and call it a day.

If anyone out there has some secret football-wear store, fess up.  And don't tell me to wear a jersey with jeans.  Homegirl doesn't do that. 

Hail State!