We've had some unusually cold weather here in the Sangre de Christo Mountains these last few days, with readings of 17 degrees (and worse) below in the pre-dawn hours up on our Ski Mountain. It's generated a bit of whining from the cute Co-Ed, but, thankfully, the sun has been so bright and the skies so clear that it actually seems pretty warm on the slopes, at least until around 2:30 pm when some of the runs lose their sun.
Of course, this generates a need at the end of the ski day to adjourn for a couple of hours to our bedroom and huddle under the sheets for some shared bodily warmth, and other "activities".
"Do you think (our daughter) sees us as anti-social, Slave?"
"No.... just lazy.... she's huddled under her covers too, on the internet....."
This afternoon we may come in off the mountain a tad earlier than usual to catch the Pussycats play the Texans, a game that Slave does not have much hope for. (Though I note a Houstonian friend here has backed off a betting opportunity, poor mouthing his team's chances too.)
But my major focus (other than Mistress's clean shaven folds) over the weekend will be Monday night's historic confrontation between my alma mater and the team from Alabama.
Our daughter set the tone when she gave me the Christmas gift, shown below:
I know, if I am a true fan, I'd fire up the grill, or stick this sucker in our Kiva fire place, and brand my team's insignia on a handy apendage prior to game time! (Maybe only if we win!)
Truth be told, my enthusiasm for this particular university has waned a bit in the last year, as they unnecessarily waded into a fight over whether religious institutions should be required to provide the same health benefits (including birth control coverage) that regular employers must provide. As a father of girls, I sure think so! This article in the Washington Post talks about that, and whether the affinity for those of my generation who grew up Catholic should automatically be fans of the Fighting Irish.
But while I may have a bone to pick with the current administration, my Irish blood runs deep, and I have to admire a group of players and coaches who have fought through adversity to put together a (so far) perfect season. Indeed, our family lore includes a story about my long departed grandmother fingering a rosary while listening on her old table top radio to Notre Dame games.
Plus, look at the opposition. A school most memorable for the moment in my adolescence when George Corley Wallace stood on the steps to bar the admission of an African American student! And while the University, with the assistance of some Federal Marshalls and the National Guard came around to learn the competitive benefits of adding some "color" to their sports teams, I'm not persuaded that their color has really changed all that much.
I mean, what's with the symbol of the GOP as their team "mascot"?
And why would you name your team after a laundry detergent? Just for product placement kick backs?
Yes, ND is clearly the underdog in this big game. But our team has played that role to some success in the past, including a bowl game in 1973 against 'Bama when a national title was on the line. Bear Bryant nearly ate his famous fedora after that one.
Mistress and the cute Co-Ed are already making alternative plans for Monday night, knowing that being near me at moments like this can be less than relaxing.
I may even have to go find a rosary!