words. pictures. beer.
Sorry, Irish. You’re not quite ready to play with the big boys yet, at least not at the Horseshoe West. The best part? Watching Mr. Four Super Bowl Rings get outcoached by little old Jimmy Tressel. And — let’s start hearing some talk about Troy Smith and the Heisman Trophy in 2006.
So let’s hear it: What’s the best gift you gave, and what’s the best one you got? Uncle Crappy will weigh in later in the week, because he’s got a couple more Christmases to go.
Via our friend Kristi, an excellent sign.
Anyone want to argue about who God will be cheering for in the Fiesta Bowl?
Now that the time has come to set aside one obsession — um, that would be college football, for those of you who may not have been paying attention — I get an immedate shot at starting up another.
Yes. It’s time for me to start babbling about skiing again.
This makes it look like we got more snow than we actually did, but it was pretty cool to see when I came home from work (where there was nothing but flurries). Even cooler? The snow belt areas around Peek n’ Peak and Holiday Valley are supposed to get as much as a couple feet by the end of the week.
Uncle Crappy may be skiing next weekend, boys and girls…
Meet Miss Mollie, the real reason for our trip to Florida. The previous post made it sound like the trip was going to a mini-Spring Break, and that really wasn’t the case. Oh, there were beaches and fruity cocktails and seafood dinners. But there was also time with my sister and brother in law, our nephews, and Miss Mollie, our niece who is somewhere in the neighborhood of 12 weeks old. She is easily the nicest baby I’ve ever met. She’s very chatty already. She smiles a lot, including right when she wakes up (which makes me wonder if she could actually be my sister’s daughter…), she doesn’t complain too much, and she even sleeps all the way through the night — miraculous, considering the track record of her two brothers before her.
The boys, by the way, are both as nuts as you’d expect a 4-year-old and almost-6-year-old would be. We went swimming with them every afternoon — which means we did a little swimming, a little throwing the boys into the air and letting them land in pool, a little hunting for the lizards that scamper around the backyard. The Wife, an only child who had no close male cousins while she grew up, was a little concerned about their behavior towards each other, but her concern is based on a lack of experience. They’re normal boys, which means, as I said before, they’re nuts.
Some of this has to do with the cooler weather in Pittsburgh when we arrived home on Sunday, but I’m feeling a little like the trip to Florida was the last bang of the summer. Roadtrips to Columbus, football and everything else fall has to offer is right around the corner. And I think I’m ready.
The Wife and I just got our butts kicked down in Pittsburgh tonight. Widespread Panic is the real fucking deal, boys and girls. I can’t tell you what we heard — mostly because I don’t have a clue about what they play — but it was wicked and righteous … and I’m ready for more.
