Janneke said she was impressed with my behavior during the game. I think it was all the witnesses around that kept me in line. Q, Janneke, Don, Mark...I didn't go as over the top as I have in previous losses. I did leap to my feet and do a fingertip chinup on the archway to the living room when Favre threw the interception that Mark Tauscher recovered, and I collapsed to the floor and thrashed when we failed to recover the Giants' muffed punt. But no frothing, little profanity. I think I must be growing up some.
So here's the trajectory leading up to the big game...
Pizza and movie night. Spiderman 3. I laughed, I cried.
Not really.
Q watches Donald Driver addressing the media on the Packers' official website in anticipation of...You know.
And then Sunday happened.
T came up to me this morning as we were about to leave to go to day care and said "Tengo algo en la nariz." I thought she meant a booger, and tried to excavate it for her. "No, no es un moco," she said. "Tiene que ser un moco, Tie. No pusiste nada alli, no cierto?" Which didn't elicit quite as quick a response as it should have. But still, I forged ahead, trying to work out what felt like a dry and well-entrenched nose potato. "No," she said. "Es una cosa orange." And indeed, on closer inspection, it turned out to be a small orange Lego piece.
We got in to Williamstown Medical Associates, and were scheduled to see a doctor who has in the past been much too rushed and brusque. When they sat us down in the examination room and we heard his name, Q's eyes got big. "Isn't he the guy...?" (It was a bad experience for Q, in which he was tricked into opening his mouth so the doctor could quick cram his tongue depressor in there and steal a look at his tonsils. Unnecessary, lazy, uncaring hurriedness.) "Yes," I said. "And if, when he gets in here, he looks at all hurried, or starts to take less time than I think he should, I will let him have it." This calmed Q.
But he was just great. T walked right up to him and said, "Yeah, I just pushed it right in my nose," and then laughed. He was super gentle, and from the time T lay back and grabbed my hands willingly and tipped up her head so he could see better, to the acutal extraction, perhaps 3 seconds had passed. Nary a squawk, no discomfort - 100% successful. Well worth the $20 co-pay for me not to have to pry it out myself with non-sterilized tweezers and in the end be the bad guy. Here's the offending bit of plastic:
And here's the offender herself, holding her trophy, suitably chastened:
We dropped her off at daycare, and then Q and I had some dad-and-Q-get-over-the-Packer-game time. Went swimming first, practicing some football tosses in the horseplay-friendly confines of the Williams Inn pool, and then hit the rink:
A fun mid-afternoon. Almost enough to make a body forget the seven months between him and the next time the Packers can take the field and defend the honor of America's Dairyland against these smug New York and New England fans. There was talk of a Super Bowl party when it seemed likely it would be Green Bay, but now I don't even know if I want to go. I'll get over it, but man, it's no fun right now. How does Brett Favre turn back into Jughead after such a great season? Where did all those scatterballs come from all of a sudden?
I got fingerprinted at the town police station this evening in anticipation of receiving my FID, the card that allows you to own and carry a gun in the People's Republic of Massachusetts. Chatting with the officer there - Officer Lemieux, great guy - and the game came up. He'd seen in filling out my background info that I was from WI, and he sympathized. "Yeah, I wanted to see Favre win the whole thing." "Oh? Are you not a NE fan?" "Well, I am, sure, but c'mon. It's Green Bay, it's Favre. Who doesn't love that?"
Yeah. Right on.
Much to ponder. Moping continues. Steer clear of me in the street, folks, unless you feel like having your mood knocked down a couple of notches. Got one wheel in the ditch here.
4 comments:
And here I was watching the game thinking about how proud I was that Kansas City was going to have a say in the playoffs after all, pushing the NFC Conference Game to Green Bay's favor by trading (prior to the season) placekicker Lawrence Tynes to the Giants. . . unfortunately, I guess it's third Tynes a charm. For what it's worth, the whole country was disappointed by the outcome of the game. . . I mean, really, who wants to see the disinterested Eli Manning play in the superbowl?
I realize that this will astound you, but I didn't watch the game and I somehow feel responsible for the loss simply because I didn't watch it. In my defense, I don't really care about football and I had to work night shift so I was napping during the game.
However, at work a very tiny Asian man stood in the arena outside his partner's room and announced, "I am so glad the Packers lost. I hate the Packers." It was all I could do not to turn on this pain-in-the-ass little bastard and rip his swishy smug face off. Instead, I turned and glared at him until he walked back into his lover's room looking a little like he was afraid that I just might hurt him if he stayed where he was. Another nurse looked at him and said, "That was pretty brave," which really translated to, "If someone comes forward and kills you, I'll watch and do nothing."
"Third Tyne's the charm"...Priceless. And thank you for the sympathy. We have no one to blame but ourselves for putting the soulless of the Mannings in the spotlight...If they win, I will be absolutely sick, as it will have meant that the Pats were beatable, and it should have been another title for Titletown. That will probably kill me. And Jayne, I'm glad to hear that The Stare is as withering as it was when I was nine.
The thing I like about reading Auntie Jayne's comment is that it certainly appears that the stick doesn't fall far from the tree in the Johnson family . . . "If someone comes forward and kills you, I'll watch and do nothing."
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