Super?Bowl

Walt and don't usually watch the Super Bowl.  I can take football or leave it and only watch if the 49ers are playing--and not even then.  I don't know how much football Walt watches, because if he does, it's usually upstairs where I can't see him, but in any event, the Super Bowl is never a big deal around here.

However, Tom, the football fanatic, is here now and it's always fun to watch a football game with Tom, actually many times it's more fun to watch Tom watching football.

I briefly thought of getting a party together, but for only 3 of us, it didn't seem logical, though I made a slow cooker chili, so people could eat chili whenever they got hungry.

Tom had other ideas.  He whipped up some deviled eggs, guacamole (with blue corn chips) and a veggie plate.

 

Later in the afternoon he fixed turkey sliders, which were delicious.

 

And then, as the game was ending, there was my chili.  So we had a "party" after all, without going overboard.

Of course the game itself was nothing that made you want to party.  I know I'm not a football fan, but this one was boring.  First Super Bowl game with NO touchdowns as the 4th quarter started. 

Someone on Facebook this morning said that the teams yesterday played like they knew the winner would be invited to the White House.

Heck, it wasn't even fun to watch Tom during this game.

 

I did not enjoy the half time show and, based on comments on Facebook, it was not just because I am an old poop--many people commented on the blah-ness of it.  

The commercials are usually fun to watch, but there were only a few of those that made it to the fun category.  The history of football was funny and we all actually laughed.  And the Budweiser/Game of Thrones collaboration was visually interesting, though I think I would have appreciated it more if I watched Game of Thrones.  The Pepsi commercial with Steve Carrel was fun. But where was the heart-warming Budweiser Clydesdale commercial?  The only touching commercial was Microsoft's...and bravo to them.

But this one, by the Washington Post was a real winner, though I haven't seen it mentioned in any of the "commercial" segments on tv or on line.

When it was all over came the realization that life is henceforth a blank.  It was Sunday night...and where was the latest episode of Outlander?  We have entered what fans of the show refer to as "droughtlander," that period of time between the finale and the start of the next season (which won't be until next year).

I did the only thing that worked;  I went OnDemand and watched the first episode of Season 1 again, and will probably watch all 4 seasons again, over the coming weeks.

No Joy in Mudville

Spoiler alert:  The 49ers did not win the SuperBowl.   But at least while at half time it looked like it was going to be a total crushing defeat by the ravens, the second half was very exciting.  There were a lot of "if only...s"  If only that last pass had been caught, they would have won.   But still, considering the score at half time a 34-31 loss was a relatively decent showing.

I predicted all along that Coach Harbaugh's team would win...and I was right!

So how did the "Super Bowl party" go?  Well, OK, I guess.  I called my mother in the morning to let her know we would probably leave home at noon and she did not remember that I had ever told her we were coming for the Super Bowl.  But at least she had not accepted any other invitation anywhere.

She wasn't feeling well and had been dizzy when she woke up, so had not gone to Mass and this was a "bad back" day for her, so she really didn't want to move much, though having us there drove her nuts because even though I made certain there was absolutely nothing she needed to do, she was very antsy just sitting there and letting us fix things.

When she is not feeling well, her memory problems intensify.   I've noticed this over the last couple of years, and today was very bad.  She and Walt looked through the book a photos from our cruise that I had brought down, with Walt explaining what each photo was, and she asked Walt when we were going on our next cruise.  He told her August and that we were going to the Ukraine.  She commented on how that would be interesting.  Then when I sat down she asked me when we were going on our next trip and I told her the same thing and then five minutes later she asked us both when we were going on a trip again, and then she thought we were going to Ukraine to see the grandchildren.  Sigh.

She might not remember what I told her five minutes before, or the names of her great grandchildren, or that we were coming to watch the game with her today, but she had absolutely NO difficulty recognizing this jacket that Tom is wearing.

Tom and I, and later Laurel and I, kept up a busy texting conversation throughout the afternooin, which started before we left home, when Tom asked me to FaceTime him.  (For those who don't know, FaceTime is an app that lets you chat with your iPads and you can both see each other...I had never done it before.)   Unfortunately, with no wifi at my mother's, FaceTime was not going to be possible during the game, but Tom took me on a tour of his own SuperBowl party and all the stuff he and Laurel had been fixing for it. (Laurel made red and gold cupcakes, for example, with Bri's assistance)

He also said that he was going to "break out Fred's jacket and wear it." He said he would send a picture later in the day.  This jacket belonged to my mother's husband, who died in about 1995 and when he died, my mother gave the jacket to Tom.  I think this may be the first time he's worn it.  But when I showed her the picture, she knew instantly that it was Fred's jacket and it tickled her that Tom was wearing it because Fred had been very proud of that jacket.

I set the table up for our tiny SuperBowl party.

There was chili in the crock pot (which I got up at 5 a.m. to make), wings on a football platter with Ranch dressing, home made Chex Mix (which I like better than store bought) and tortilla chips with both guacamole (home made) and Salsa con Queso (store bought).  Earlier that day, Laurel had posted a combination video/slide show called "Born to be a Fan" with pictures of the girls in various 49er outfits, going all the way back to bald baby Brianna in her 49er onesie.  I figured out how to download it to my iPad and brought it along so my mother could see it...and I thought it made a nice addition to the food on the table.

Throughout the game, there were two things she fixated on and told us over and over and over again.  One had to do with the ethnicity of the players and the other was the cost of the commercials.  Every time she felt she had to say something it was about one or the other of those topics.  I hate it when she gets into ethnicity, but she is a person of her time and she grew up and has lived all of her life in a mostly white environment and she simply cannot NOT make a comment about a person of color.  But I don't say anything, I just grit my teeth and don't contribute to the conversation.

As for the commercials, she saw something recently where she learned that the cost of one simple commercial was anywhere from $5,000 to $1 million (the amount varied each time she told us).  I finally Googled it and found out it was $3.8 million on average, but I didn't tell her that because she wouldn't remember anyway.

At the half time, mid-way through Beyonce's show, my mother asked what program we were watching because she hadn't seen it before.  I explained it was the SuperBowl half time show.  She obviously didn't like it and asked me to turn down the sound.

Walt fixed vodka tonics for himself and for me and my mother watched him like a hawk and whenever he opened a cupboard to look for something she would call out "what are you looking for, Walt?" and he would have to reassure her that he knew what he wanted and how to find it so she wouldn't get up because her back was bothering her so much.

As it got later in the afternoon, she was becoming restless and asked if I wanted her to set the table for dinner.  Somehow it was very difficult for her to grasp that the chili was in the crock pot for anybody to eat when they felt hungry and that I hadn't intended that we actually sit at the table  to eat it.   But it took about 3 or 4 repetitions of that before she finally went and got herself a tiny bowl of chili.

As the game was ending, in the tensest part of the game, when it was actually possible the 9ers might pull off an upset victory, my mother was cleaning up the kitchen and packing up the leftovers so that we didn't dare leave a crumb behind.

I don't know if this was a good afternoon or not.  I think she might have been happier to be alone, without feeling the need to get up and be a hostess, though I had done everything I possibly could to make it unnecessary for her to do anything.   She still managed to find things that she thought she should do and then she would hobble back to her chair and wince as she sat down again, because the back was bothering her so much.

But that need to hostess is hard-wired into her DNA and there's apparently nothing I can do to circumvent that.  She's going to be a hostess or die trying.

I'm glad that we went, and she thanked us for coming and said she was glad she didn't have to watch the game alone, but I still left feeling that bringing her a party was adding a burden that she didn't feel she could handle today.

It would have been better if we could have rejoiced in the 49er victory, which might have made her feel happier about watching the game with us.

Must Come a Time - 70

I don't know who pays attention to the different smiley faces that I use in the camera of the title logo each month, but this month I've replaced the smiley with a 70, done in a scary font, because this is the month when I shall turn 70.   When I turned 69, I couldn't believe that I would soon be 70...the first zero-age in my life that had the potential of being traumatic for me.  

But I've made a project out of it, starting the "My 70th year" blog, with photos from every day (with one exception) of this past year.  It's been a fun project but, in truth, it will be wonderful not to have to think of a photo every day.  17 more days and I will end that project. 

Talking about being 70 for the whole year, and telling people, like my mother does, that I am almost the year that is coming up rather than the year that I am currently has made it seem like I've been 70 forever, so no more trauma fears for me.

I am happy to report that I am not walking like Abe Vigoda this morning.  My muscles are returning to normal, and I am glad of that.

Walt went and rented a car yesterday, which we will have until Monday, in case car repairs take longer than expected.  We have two trips to the Bay Area coming up and might as well use the rental.  It's a Ford something-or-other and I drove it for the first time today.  I do hate adjusting to new cars.

First there is finding that perfect "fit" for your body.   The seat was so far forward that it trapped my knee under the dash and, as my knee is temperamental anyway, I had to actually stop the car and pull over, get out, and try to figure out how to move the seat back.

I also couldn't figure out how to change the station on the radio. It had presets and there didn't seem to be any way to choose anything that wasn't already set up.  Naturally, the manual was not in the glove compartment (Walt told me later it was in the trunk, where it was a big help.  Not.)  But while pulled over to change the seat, I played around with buttons that seemed logical and I finally did find a way to get the station I wanted.  But it definitely was not intuitive.

Then I couldn't figure out how to turn the lights off and it complained to me when I tried to get out of the car.  I had to actually call home to find out how to do it.  Who knew the controls would be hidden away behind the steering wheel on the dashboard?

I figure that once we have to return it to the rental agency, I will have come to peace with it and have grown to like it, though I will also be very glad to get our own car back again.

Once I'd kinda figured out the new car, I went to the Dollar Store to see what they had that would work for my impromptu Super Bowl party.  Pretty much nothing, unfortunately, but I did get some artificial flowers that are red with yellow centers.  I thought those on a yellow tablecloth I also bought with the yellow and red striped napkins and red plats and yellow bowls might at least make a colorful looking table.

From there I went to the supermarket to see if they had a nice Super Bowl display, but it was kind of pathetic.

I did get the football tray, but decided that buying a balloon on Thursday for a party Sunday was a bad idea.  We might stop by Nugget on the way out on Sunday and see if the still have a balloon, but I'm not holding my breath.  They did have Super Bowl flowers, though.

I really liked them, but my artificial flowers cost $2 and will be fine...these cost $12. 

I picked up chicken wings (2 kinds), ranch dressing, nacho cheese dip, ingredients for Chex Mix (I like home made better than store bought) and avocados for guacamole, plus beans for chili.  We will have enough to feed a small Army and my mother hardly eats anything, but what the heck, it will be our dinner for at least one night after the game, and I wanted it to look like a real "party."

Then off to Logos.  I brought a book with me to read, but instead picked up a copy of JFK's "Profiles in Courage" and got engrossed in it.   It's a depressing book on two unintentional levels.  While I know it is designed to showcase heroes of the Senate who, over the 200 years of our country's history, dared to make a difference, but this edition of the book was printed in 1964 and contains a foreword by Robert Kennedy, praising his brother and talking about his own feelings about courage, this Kennedy who would, himself, be dead four years later.   Worse, on the back is an ad for the audio version of this book, read by John F. Kennedy, Jr. At least Caroline Kennedy, who wrote the introduction, is still with us.

I think this is a book that all Americans should read, depressing though I find it.  Kennedy begins with a look at what it's like to be a Senator, and why things are not as cut and dried as we would like them to be.  Quite a detailed look at the life of a Senator.  But in reading it, and in reading the first couple of chapters (I have a lot more to read), the depressing thing is learning that pretty much nothing has changed over the years.  Nothing. What we see today with the fight over gun control is what John Quincy Adams fought in the Embargo against England (ostracized by everyone for that courageous stand, he went on to become President).

My mother is fond of saying "I'm as glad I'm as old as I am..." and the older I get and the more I learn about our history and compare it to our present, the more I, too, am glad I'm as old as I am.  70 will be my friend, not my enemy.

The Anti Super Bowl

Sometimes on the days leading up to the Super Bowl it feels like the whole country is focused on this annual football game. Certainly, trying to find an open restaurant in the area of Walnut Creek where we found ourselves would lead you to believe that life, as we know it, came to a stop for the Super Bowl, with hand lettered signs in most restaurants which read "Closed on Sunday, February 3."

Last year I sort of hosted a Super Bowl party, simply because I was at my mother's and since she couldn't move much at that time, lots of people came to sit and watch the game with her. I supplied the food and drink and did watch the game.

This year we had tickets for the Lamplighters' closing performance of The Secret Garden at the Lesher Center for the Arts in Walnut Creek.

Getting out of our car in the parking garage with lots of parents with daughters in tow gave me hope that perhaps not everybody in the country was glued to a television screen watching hulking men try to knock each other down. In fact, the 700+ seat theatre looked quite full while I sat and waited for the show to start.

I did make a trip down to the orchestra pit to say hi to my friends Diana Dorman (orchestra contractor and clarinetist) and Kathy Connor, who informed me she was playing six instruments in this show and asked if I would put her in my next blog entry--so this is why I mention it at all (hi, Kathy!).

The show was spectacular. I had not seen it before, though had heard the music (and, of course, had read the book as a child and seen the Shirley Temple movie a bazillion times over the years).

The Lamplighters is classified as a "semi-professional" theatre company (which means, they are always struggling for money!), but I dare anyone to find anything "semi" about this professional production, directed by my old friend Jane Hammett. It was absolutely first class. The cast was outstanding. The two kids were marvelous (and Lamplighter old timer Bill Neil, who plays the gardener, Ben, told me that the 8th grade girl playing Mary Lennox was one of the most professional actresses he'd worked with and was simply amazing).

I have two more productions of The Secret Garden coming up in two different theatres in the next year or so to review and I'm afraid they have a real challenge to come close to the excellence of this production.

When the show was over, we went in search of food, and found all of the restaurants in the area closed (though their signs all said that they were open on Sunday). We finally ended up at Chilis, where Walt had a blue cheese burger and I had fajitas. They had the game on in the bar part of the restaurant, so we were able to get the half-time score, though we couldn't watch the game from where we were sitting...and it didn't seem to matter anyway.

While we were sitting in the booth, I was glancing over the brochure that our Secret Garden program had come in. In it were descriptions of some of the upcoming shows which will play the Lesher Center.

One of them is a play called Nixon's Nixon, which is, according to the description, a fantasy re-telling of the conversation which took place between Nixon and Kissinger the night before Nixon resigned the presidency.

But what struck me was the end of the article, which reads..."By play's end, despite the laughs, we've been struck with the reality of a sad, sad time in U.S. history--a fortress White House, a leadership locked into its own ideology, and a sneering disregard for rights guaranteed by the Constitution.

"'They gave me so much power,' Nixon says to Kissinger. 'Why are they surprised I used it?'"

Hmmmmmm...... Nixon? Are they sure it's Nixon they're talking about?

On the drive home from Walnut Creek, I was listening to KGO talk show host Karel, who related some astonishing statistics from a recently released Army publication, which says that right now, every single day, 5 soldiers will attempt suicide.

I checked a report that will be published in The Washington Post on Tuesday, which reads in part:

Suicides among active-duty soldiers in 2007 reached their highest level since the Army began keeping such records in 1980, according to a draft internal study obtained by The Washington Post. Last year, 121 soldiers took their own lives, nearly 20 percent more than in 2006.

At the same time, the number of attempted suicides or self-inflicted injuries in the Army has jumped sixfold since the Iraq war began. Last year, about 2,100 soldiers injured themselves or attempted suicide, compared with about 350 in 2002, according to the U.S. Army Medical Command Suicide Prevention Action Plan.

(read the full article, if you like horror stories, or if you are wondering about McCain's feelings that we may have to be in Iraq for "100 more years.")

I dunno...compared to stories like this, the outcome of the Super Bowl (or, for that matter, the quality of a theatrical production!) seems pretty mundane.