Super Fumble

It should have been a harbinger: Out to breakfast late Sunday morning I have the urge to order a side of french fries with gravy on the side. First of all, I don't eat meat anymore and second, it's hard to do worse than order french fries with gravy. In spite of these compelling reasons to steer clear I dive in.

I survived the dietary fumble without any obvious ill-effects, but psychologically I had trouble forgiving myself. French fries with gravy? Seriously??

A few hours later I was back home in the kitchen whipping up queso, (fake) buffalo wing dip, getting stuff together for tacos, and helping cut up veggies for snacks. As it turned out our small party was a visit by one. Just Tam's mom came over and, other than having a refrigerator full of uneaten junk, that turned out to be a good thing. As a result I was finally able to get back on the right track and make a good choice. Free of any self-imposed obligation to watch the Super Bowl, I slipped out of the den and into the office where I actually used my time constructively. It was a great salvage after starting my day eating french fries with gravy, assembling piles of food that would not get eaten, and starting to watch a football game so immersed in hype as to test the depths of human gullibility.  It was nice to reach the moment when I finally said "no" and got something constructive done.

I did check in at halftime to watch Madonna. I should have left after her first number but I like Madonna and wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Turns out I gave her more than she gave me.  Maybe she had french fries with gravy for breakfast as well. And, too, maybe she got something constructive done after halftime as well-- like firing her producer and her wardrobe designer.

I have vowed that next year I will not waste even 1 hour on the so-called-Super Bowl. I will start that Sunday with a bowl of granola, go for a walk, and finish a novel. Unless, of course, the Lions are in.