Quality Time & College Sports

There was screaming, yelling, and profanity in my household recently. No, it was not the marriage equivalent of World War III. It was the viewing of a college basketball game.

What makes this particularly notable is that my Handsome Husband was not the only person screaming & yelling. (He was, however, the only person using profanity. I think.)

You see, I married a rabid University of Tennessee fan. His favorite color is orange. He spends at least an hour a day (and that's being very conservative) reading message boards about his favorite school's football and basketball programs. He's been a football season ticket holder for close to 20 years. Trust me, I am only scratching the surface when describing his loyalty to his precious Volunteers.

I, on the other hand, grew up in the Deep South, where SEC football is a religion. I was subjected to endless hours of football watching by my father and brother. As a result, I ended up hating sports of all kinds. My dream was to find a husband who shared my sentiments about the pointlessness and tedium of athletics.

Enter 6-foot, blonde-and-blue Volunteer football fanatic into my sportsless adult existence. We married on September 2. The next day, I was standing beside him in our bleacher seats at Neyland Stadium, screaming my lungs out. I had threatened to wear my veil, but decided against it (even though white is a Tennessee color). I did wear orange toenail polish, though.

My whole-hearted participation in his favorite hobby the day after our wedding earned me major points with the HH. He says he once turned and looked at me during that opening game against UAB and said to himself, "Yep, I got the right one."

It took a little longer to woo me over to the basketball side. Of all the major sports I was forced to observe growing up, basketball was my least favorite. HH's dogged determination, my desire to spend time with him, and two charismatic basketball coaches eventually won me over. Here it is, four years later and I'm screaming in front of the TV as my team defeated the #1 ranked team in the nation. Wonders never cease.

I have learned that my husband really does want me there when he watches a game, be it live or on TV. He will even Tivo a basketball game and wait to watch it with me if I have to work late. If I fall asleep during a game, he pouts. He emails me during the day with the latest recruiting news. And he really doesn't mind when I ask dumb questions, like what the heck a "cover 2" is.

I guess quality time really can coexist with college athletics. At least it does at my house. And, much to my family's amazement, I'm loving it!

Stress

Here's my stress ball at work.

How to Tell If You Need to Pray at Work

Bad Day at Work?

This is a good short video to watch when you are having a bad day at the office. I shared it with a coworker who wanted to kill somebody. Not that I've ever felt that way...

OCD and the Dishwasher

While emptying the dishwasher the other day, I noticed that someone had organized the silverware by type while still in the machine. Since this is not my habit, and because I am the one in our two-person household who normally loads the dishwasher, I could only assume that my Handsome Husband's obsessive-compulsive tendencies had set in.

I confirmed this later at dinner.

Me: "Honey, have you ever reorganized the silverware in the dishwasher?"
He didn't even act surprised.
HH: "Of course. It's a lot easier to empty the dishwasher that way."
Me: "Do you remember the time you announced you were obsessive-compulsive after reading that article in Reader's Digest?"
HH responded with a hand gesture I shall not describe on a family-oriented blog.

I later discussed this aberrant behavior with my brother Scott, only to find that he agreed with my husband.

Me: "He reorganized the silverware in the dishwasher by type."
Scott: "Of course. It's a lot easier to empty the dishwasher that way."
Me: "What? You know, there's medication for that. Besides, it encourages silverware nesting and may not get cleaned."
Scott: "It's less likely to nest if you put in in 'business end up.'"
Me: "But that's dangerous! You could stab yourself with the knives & forks while trying to get them out."
Scott: "I find that an element of danger makes housework more interesting."

Clearly, OCD runs in my family. My future children are doomed.

My 40th Birthday

Here's how my coworkers decided to celebrate my birthday. I was hoping for a little crepe paper. I got a lot more.

My Handsome Husband (HH) has announced that he wants a cow costume -- just to have around the house, as a novelty.

He made this announcement while we are attending the Chick-Fil-A Bowl game. As you might imagine, those Chick-Fil-A cows were everywhere -- riding blimps, falling from the rafters with little parachutes, walking around FanFest while wearing team jerseys, and conducting the Pride of the Southland Marching Band.

As a city boy, HH is fascinated by cows, both real and imitation. I have a photo of him next to a Holstein the size of a New York City bus. Before we even met, one of the first photos I ever saw of him was with his father and a cow at a bowl game.

I suppose I should have known what I was getting into.