Later half of December is college football’s bowl season. Boy howdy, did I watch a lot of bowl games. Big Scott and I always look forward to it every year. This year, I was in a fantasy bowl league. It stirred the competitive pot. Well… my competitive pot.
I watched bowl and jigga what bowl. I saw teams play that next to never to airtime on ESPN unless some freak accident happen during the game like the opposing team’s mascots decided to duke it out on the sidelines. I watched my beloved Sooners forget to show up in the first half of the Fiesta Bowl. I watched Big Scott’s beloved Huskers play conserve-o-ball and not trust the kicker. I really wanted to watch the Scarlet Knights play Kansas State but it was the only bowl game on the NFL network. Are you kidding me? College football on the NFL network? The “major” conferences didn’t fair so well. The mid-majors well….rocked.
Seriously, all season long Texas was the team to beat in the Big 12. The media said they were destined for another national championship. A couple losses at the end of the season and they are playing a questionable Iowa in the Alamo Bowl. Half of Texas wanted Mack Brown’s head on a platter. The Big 10? Did Ohio State and Michigan not embarrass their conference enough? The PAC 10? Well, that’s a soapbox for another day.
We were watching the Chick-fil-a bowl. I don’t even remember when the game was played. I think it was the Georgia vs. Virginia Tech game. Any who. During a commercial break the corporate sponsor Chick-fil-a flash a little blurb to go to and a little stuff cow free. I love the free. I love little stuffed animals. I love cows. It was the perfect promotion. Big Scott went online to sign up. He signed up on line because I was sick. I was hacking my and my neighbor’s left lung. I was barely able to stay awake 5 to 6 hours per day. It was going to be a nice little surprise later.
I have a strange fascination for cows. I like cow things. It started when I worked in an ice cream/dairy store in high school. People started getting me cow things. I guess, it just fit my small town Nebraska roots. I once had a kitchen of cow stuff. Cow cookie jar, canister set, crock-pot, napkin holder, salt and pepper shakers, and the alike. I sold the farm at a garage sale years ago. I have cow jewelry. I have cow button covers. Unfortunately, they aren’t something you might find at a rodeo. They are cutesy little black and white Holstein dairy cows with insipid smiles on their mugs.
I was going through a cow phase. Kitchens have a habit of going through phases. Right now, my mom is going through a rooster/chicken phase. I’m in a cat phase. Really, I love cats. If I weren’t married I would probably end up being the creepy ten cat lady. Big Scott works nights. I find myself doing “Old Maid” things like talking to the cats as if they are “people”. There have been times that that bathroom has been occupied. There have been some noises of discomfort spewing forth. I have been known to look at the cats and say, ”Your daddy makes ugly noises.” TMI
Last Friday, Big Scott is sorting through the mail. He says, “No name distribution company? What could this be?” I got a cow. It was almost in time for my birthday. How could they have known? I’m really excited about my cow. I’m not sure if I will open the package and enjoy it or keep it for Antique Road Show fodder for later?