Football’s back – now life’s worth living again |

Football’s back – now life’s worth living again

Heidi Rice
Post Independent
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
Fried Rice

“Good MORNING world!” Husband-Head said joyfully on a recent Thursday morning as he bounded out of bed and threw open the curtains. “Isn’t it a simply FABULOUS day? Isn’t life grand?”

It wasn’t the overly cheery mood he was in, what scared me the most was Husband-Head’s use of the word “fabulous.”

“Good morning, Weber! Good morning, Wyatt!” he continued, patting the Labs on the head. “And there she is. Good morning, Cat!”

Our feline pet does have a name, but somehow she has gotten stuck with the very original nickname of “Cat.”

“What’s up with you?” I asked sleepily. “I’m almost waiting for you to break out into a rendition of ‘My Favorite Things.'”

Now it was my turn as Husband-Head came to the side of the bed and planted a big kiss on my forehead.

“The waiting is OVER!” he cried out jubilantly, raising his arms over his head. “The best time of the year is finally here! My first fantasy football draft is tonight and then the first pre-season game is on Sunday! I’ve been waiting for this for months!” With that, Husband-Head did a little pirouette and almost took out Cat.

He continued his good mood as he got ready for work, and I contemplated that now just might be a good time to ask him if I could buy the pair of boots I’d been eyeballing online…

“Your boss is going to think you’re drunk if you don’t settle down,” I warned Husband-Head as I handed him his lunch box.

“I’m going to be very busy tonight starting at 7 p.m. doing my draft in the playhouse, and I don’t want any interruptions,” he instructed before he left. “You can just bring me a pizza and go away.”

Or I could just lock you out of the house. …

After delivering him a pizza that evening, I stared at Husband-Head for a moment before I left the playhouse, trying to etch a picture in my brain to remember him, knowing that it would be six months before I really saw him again.

Damn football.

I watched a chick flick on TV that night and went to sleep. Alone.

Husband-Head ended up doing his draft until 11 p.m. before coming to bed.

“That took longer than I expected,” he admitted the next morning. “The fantasy guys got up in arms, and everyone was all upset with each other. It was worse than a bunch of girls.”

But still, it did not put a damper on the fact that the first pre-season game – the Hall of Fame game – was being held on Saturday evening. I was floating in the pool on Saturday afternoon, listening to the ’70s tunes when I looked over and saw Husband-Head in the yard doing his little dance where his feet stay in place and his arms go flailing about.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance to ‘Y.M.C.A.'” I commented. “I thought you hated the Village People.”

He apparently didn’t care about the music and kept dancing.

“Once the regular season starts it will go until February, baby,” he grinned, raising his arms over his head. “Football’s on, summer’s over and that stupid pool is getting drained.”

And the NFL Ticket will be cancelled. …

Even the next door neighbor sympathized with me.

“You ready to be a football widow again?” he taunted over the fence with a smile.

Shut up.

On Saturday evening, I again found myself bringing Husband-Head his dinner. “This is like being in the hospital, isn’t it?” I said as I set the tray down on the bar in the playhouse. “I should put on a nurse’s uniform and give you an enema when you’re finished.”

After the game, Husband-Head filled me in on the potential 2011 NFL lockout, which could possibly eliminate football games next year.

It was like a dream come true for me and I started to clap and jump up and down, until I realized that it was really upsetting to him.

“Wait a minute. … What would you do on Sunday afternoons?” I stopped and said with concern. “And what would I do with you underfoot? You’d be in the house. You’d be bugging me. You’d be a pain in my ass every Sunday afternoon!”

“I can’t think about it right now,” Husband-Head admitted, with his head in his hands. “There’s nothing I can do. I guess I’ll have to go to church and pray about it.”

Not sure if the NFL is on ye ol’ prayer list or not. …

In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the dog days of summer and floating in the pool before the regular football season starts.

It will be fabulous.

If you have a funny story or column idea, feel free to send it to Heidi’s column appears every Thursday in the Citizen Telegram and every Friday in the Post Independent. Visit her website at to see more columns or purchase her book collection.

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