This month I'm writing daily--no excuses--with the intent to have a complete manuscript by the end of the month. The blog post on that is tomorrow's entry. Since the Steelers played later in the day, I did not watch the early football games--gasp!--but instead wrote. I have eight hours of the Redzone Channel recorded, but this morning I'm back at the computer writing.
For years, I've spent Steelers Sunday with my buddy, Scott, and usually one other fan. First, it was Grandpa Bob and then when he married and moved, Vince. Sometimes it was just the two of us, on our spots on the couch watching our boys. Scott's wife, Krista, told people I was Scott's football wife. Like Tom, she watched the games, but it wasn't live or die like it is for the rest of us.
For week one this year, I didn't go to his house for the first time in years. Vince was in Pittsburgh for several months, Grandpa Bob was quarantined, and I was contemplating the Sunday NFL ticket purchase. Maybe too, I had some apprehension about visiting the house where Krista would no longer greet me with one of her hugs.
Then we won. My superstition immediately kicked in, and when we kept winning? Yeah, I was content to maintain the status quo and communicate via text with my guys.
Saturday, Scott texted the group, all three of us, and invited us to come for dinner and watch the game. The others accepted. I whined about my superstition and had every intention of not going. That morning, I rose and began writing like a fiend, and two hours before the game, while I was doing some procrastinating research, I ran across the comment section of my blog.
It's a section I forget about. It used to alert me when people commented on my entries but somewhere that disappeared, and I rarely think to look at it. Oops. People are so nice! Thank you for your comments!!
I should be checking this daily because it made my heart sing! I read the comments, and then I re-read my entries, especially regarding Scott's wife Krista, and suddenly I heard her voice. She gave me a stern talking--something along the lines of phooey on the superstition, so they lose a game, isn't friendship more important, life is too short, I should know--in her voice that I hear so often.
So, after a bit of a cry for his loss, my loss, our Steelers Sundays where we caught up with one another, and the fact I'd never hear another story from her lips that would have me laughing so hard my sides would hurt, I texted I was coming.
Sunday was spent with my Steelers friends social distancing six feet apart, eating pulled pork sandwiches and other stuff, and watching our boys (please, we are the worst undefeated team) add another W to the win column, and I didn't once take notes about the game.
All of the above is my excuse for no Monday NFL recap this week. Because I was hanging with my Steelers peeps and enjoying the day.
Nine and O BABY!
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