Sunday, February 05, 2006

It's Super Bowl Sunday and I married a Texan

One day a year, I let Mr. W. watch football, and I don't complain (much). It's the Super Bowl and a Texan male just wouldn't be a Texan male if he did not watch that one sports event every year even if his favorite team is not playing (the Vikings, if you can believe it).

I could go to our room and watch something else, except L.'s crib is in there and she is sound asleep. I could do some work around the house, except I'm feeling quite lazy this evening and hey the dishwasher's already going. I could be doing some stamping this evening, which I probably will once I get this urge to write purged.

It's once a year, so I guess I'll live. I've learned to adapt to life with two dogs and being mama to a girl with the deepest Texas twang I never wanted to hear from my own offspring. Why, oh, why can't she pick up on her mama's Georgia drawl? I've also learned to live with the fact that Mr. W.'s red pickup truck will be part of our family until the end of time.


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