MY SUPERBOWL
And Supporting Each Other's Hobbies
Presentation is important.
Each chunk of cantaloupe was wrapped with prosciutto and placed in evenly spaced rows on the ornate pewter tray. I set the tray on the conference room table. A strange item to bring to the Wednesday staff meeting, you say? My co-workers raised their eyebrows but didn’t hesitate to eat every piece. I was using them as guinea pigs to test out the appetizers I planned to serve at the party.
For weeks, I had been bringing trays to the Wednesday staff meeting and asking for reviews. It had been a while since I’d had an adults-only party. After years of kids’ birthday parties, playdates, sleepovers, and pool parties, I was a little nervous. These were my friends—they wouldn’t really care if the food wasn’t perfect, but I wanted it to be just right. My husband was not a good reviewer. He didn’t understand the concept of party planning. No matter how I explained it, he didn’t get it.
And then came football season.
Football season holds his attention even more than golf season, basketball season, or women’s curling season. Okay … that last one is an inside joke, but he spends what I think is a ridiculous amount of time thinking about and planning which sports to watch on TV. And I don’t get it—so we’re even.
One year, I got caught up in the excitement. Not to watch a game on TV, but to attend a professional football game. It took a little convincing … the tickets were so expensive! But there we were in line when I noticed a group of people from the line running toward an open gate. Without hesitation, I grabbed my husband’s arm, and we ran through the open gate. It was exhilarating, and a little nerve wracking, this being my first professional game. I didn’t know what would happen to us if we got caught. We did have to move to new seats several times when the paying customers showed up for their seats, but we didn’t get caught and hauled down to the jail under the stands. I found out later that there is a jail inside the stadium to hold gate jumpers and unruly spectators. My husband loves to tell this story because it was my idea. He thinks it’s hilarious that I forced him to break the rules.
That day was not the first time I stole into a venue without paying, but it was the first time that it was my idea. The first time I snuck into a venue was for a U2 concert, back in the mid-eighties, when U2 was just becoming popular. It’s a miracle we didn’t get caught, since I was whining and dragging my feet the whole time. My friends were mad at me for being a goody two-shoes. As I remember that day, the most embarrassing moment was when we were in the car driving to the concert and the car next to us had a sign that read “Honk if you love Bono,” and I said, “Bono must be the warm-up band.” You can imagine how that comment landed!
Another year of football season has come to an end, and my husband and I attended a viewing party. With no kids at home, we are supporting each other’s hobbies … at least the food was good. And I’m planning another party.
Rather than wasting time justifying my planning process, I utter the one sentence he totally understands.
“This is my Superbowl.”
