WeirderBowl

I'm much more a college basketball girl than a pro football girl, but Mr. & Mrs. Roy gave me cause to celebrate the SuperBowl and my day off this weekend, and lured us to Brooklyn with nachos. I was, for my eldest brother, rooting for the Bears with all my heart, because I want to see a Chicago sportsfan like him happy. (Further proof of his fandom, my nephew is here, page 2, lower right, striped shirt & Bears hat. Yeah, that's him, you got it, the really cute one.)

Alas. Poor Bears, poor J. The one-liners and quips flying around the room were significantly better than the snaps & passes on tv. But the thing that really got us all going was the commercials (and Prince's wicked guitar). After the first few not-very-funny and kind of weird ones, like office workers running lemming-style off a cliff, (and the inevitable GoDaddy boob commercial), we got the GM commercial where the poor little robot loses its job and jumps off a bridge. We were just shocked. This was supposed to be the time of the burping Budweiser frogs. Funny stuff, K-Fed, come on! If advertising can lay bare the ambitions and anxieties of mainstream culture, then we are seriously worried about unnecessary violence, joblessness, loneliness, and suicide. We figured that the talking heads would be talking about it the next day, and sure enough, they were (and then some). Lots about the war, but no one has mentioned that sad little GM robot. It just broke my heart.

But back to the shallow spectacle. I loved the Oprah and Dave Letterman bit and was reminded again of how awesome buffalo wings are. And how I need to not read for most of one day a week. And who knew, you can see stars more clearly in the Better Borough? Nice.

We can now congratulate Kolz on officially becoming a bar-certified attorney - we are very proud! - and in an amazing Pre-Raphaelite-styled courtroom, no less. When not watching the reactions of the inductees to the various goings-on in the room, I was trying to figure out just which romantically-draped goddess in the frescoes represented justice, or virtue, or bliss, or Manhattan embodied, or whatever. I made it uptown to teach my first section with 5 minutes to spare, and it was wholly worth it to witness the moment when "I'm not buying it, counselor" is no longer just a joke, but something I can seriously say!

A forthcoming post will finally address the orals situation, which is actually coming along alright. But to put my two cents in about our current Arctic blast, my emergency measures include:

- breaking out the silk long underwear, tights, and shearling hat this weekend
- am using furry gift-from-Mom blanket while sitting in my reasonably-well-heated living room
- we put a hot water bottle at the foot of the bed at night (a trick I picked up in York)
- blow-drying my hair regularly
- keeping hand lotion at the ready constantly to combat dry air
- made baked ziti with the help of my NY sis-in-law
- coming home for dinner and studying at home to avoid the negative windchill walk from the library after midnight. Yow.

I told you all that February was going to kick our asses. Can we please figure out this climate change business already?