Ready for Monday night scrapbooking
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
“The club is starting!” Husband-Head yelled out with glee the other morning before heading off to work, doing his backward hand clap and jumping up and down. “Tonight is the night!”
“NO! Not the club,” I cried, putting my hands over my ears. “I hate the club!”
The phrase is a reference to a story I told him about when my sister and I started a club when we were little and we would yell to my mother, “Mommy, the club is starting!” before we began our very important meetings.
But I knew what “club” Husband-Head was referring to as he danced around the room like a little kid.
Football season had officially started.
“From now until FEBRUARY!” he said, pointing a finger in my face. “I will be in my recliner and watching football. And there’s nothing you can do about it!” With that, he continued his little jig around the kitchen floor.
“Are you ready for some football?” he cried out jubilantly.
Then he stopped abruptly.
“Kickoff is at 5 p.m.,” he warned. “And you know the rules ” no talking. Skully says shut it!”
I had half a mind to smash the damn porcelain skull thing that sits next to Husband-Head while he channels through it, telling me to be quiet or bring him another beer.
Just then I remembered something.
“You can’t watch football all weekend,” I pointed out. “We’re supposed to go to a wedding. In fact, you’re IN the wedding, in case you forgot.”
“Oh no, I didn’t forget,” Husband-Head assured me. “But fortunately, they had the good sense to hold the rehearsal dinner on Friday and the wedding on Saturday, because I’m watching football all day on Sunday … AND all night on Monday.”
Husband-Head couldn’t wait to see his beloved Green Bay Packers play, despite that their infamous quarterback, Brett Favre, had come out of his brief retirement and signed on with the New York Jets.
“I can’t tell you how many times people have asked me your reaction to that,” I informed Husband-Head.
He just shrugged and told me that Favre would be making his debut appearance with the Jets in Sunday’s game against the Miami Dolphins. “So, when do the Packers play?” I asked.
His eyes glazed over and he smiled like a deranged person.
“On Monday,” he said in an evil tone as he rubbed his hands together. “Against the Vi-Queens.”
I’m not sure who Husband-Head hates more ” the Minnesota Vikings or the Chicago Bears. …
Later that afternoon, I called Husband-Head at work.
“Did you know that in his first career start with the Packers this year following Favre’s departure that Aaron Rodgers will be going against 2007 sack leader Jason Allen and one of the best defensive lines in the NFL?” I asked, pretending like I gave a crap.
Husband-Head was silent on the other end.
“No,” he said simply. “No, you don’t know that. You don’t know squat about football.”
I do when I’m reading off of one of the thousands of e-mails that NFL.com sends to my account all day long.
“Honey, why don’t we just forget football and spend the evening cuddling together,” I suggested.
“Yes, let’s watch ‘Under the Tuscan Sun’ and do some scrapbooking,” he agreed. “That’s what I told everyone at work I was going to do.”
In the end, I decided to be a good sport and offered to make Husband-Head’s favorite dinner for his big night ” a cheesy chicken and rice casserole.
“Do you want me to bring it to you in the playhouse while you watch the game?” I said sweetly.
“Yes, but it has to be quiet,” he insisted. “No one is to make a peep during the game.”
“Well, cheese doesn’t make noise, unless of course, it’s one of those squeaky Wisconsin cheese curds,” I mused out loud. “I’ve never known rice to make a sound and as far as I know, the chicken is pretty much dead. …”
Then the game started and Husband-Head motioned for me to be quiet.
I tiptoed out of the room before the stupid skull-thing could start yelling at me.
The football club had started. …
Heidi Rice is a reporter for the Post Independent. Her column runs every Friday. Visit her website at http://www.heidirice.com.
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