(Orange) Angels Among Us

Sweet jacket, buddy!  The flames/claw marks really show your school spirit.

Do you all remember that song by Alabama, Angels Among Us?  Looking back, the song is a little over the top.  It was also over the top to play it during rush and cry and cry, but I was a very emotional collegiate.  Anywho, the gist of the song is that there are angels all around us, sent down to be with us in our darkest hour.  In all seriousness, I completely believe in this theory.  But for the purpose of this blog, let's focus on sports angels, not to include anyone in Anaheim.

I believe in little sports angels, who fly around wearing knee socks, wrist bands, and sports goggles.  Apparently, my angels all look like Kareem Abdul Jabbar, just not as tall.  But totally as smart (seriously, do you guys know how smart he is?  He's brilliant).  Okay, anyway, my little sports angels either help me out, will my team to win or comfort me when we blow it.  It's  a complex job.

So, I've added them to my pre-season prayer.

Dear God, Universe, and orange-clad sports Angels,

I feel like most years, I haven't been greedy.  In fact, I've been quite reasonable.  For example, I didn't need it ALL, just some happy things.  Well this year, I want it all.  I will not apologize for my demanding ways.

Big XII Championship: I want this outright.  No wonky three-way tie.  Beat OU. Beat Texas.  Beat TCU.  Beat K-State and it's ours.  And for God's sake, beat Iowa State and Baylor.  We have a good schedule and with the smallest conference in the country, this shouldn't be too difficult.  Win the Big XII.

No Heart-Breakers: Seriously, enough is enough.  The Texas and OU games last year were enough to  last me for at least three more seasons.  For the love of everything holy, Texas beat us without even scoring.  Yeah, the kid wasn't even in the end zone.  Typing this is making me angry.  And the OU game... I made my baby cry.  How does that make you feel?  It should make you feel awful.  I felt a twinge of guilt as she sobbed and sobbed because mommy had just lept from the couch and was screaming, "NOOOOOO!  Stop him!" as Blake Bell ran into the endzone.  Don't make babies cry.  Or even better, make Texas and Sooners babies cry.  YES!  That is what I want.  I want the Cowboys to break someone else's hearts this year.  Win it on a Hail Mary/Statue of Liberty/break free for a run of 62 last-second drive.  Crush the souls of some other fan base.  Yes!  Yes! Yes!  This is the key to my happiness. I should move this to the top of the list.  Now, if I can just decide if I'd rather it be OU or Texas.  If we did it to both, it might go down as The Greatest Season.  Forget Barry Sanders and his 1988 Heisman Run, this would be the best ever.

Better Intro: I keep asking for this, and it keeps not happening.  Give me an intro with 1. A song I know and 2. Words.  No more video of guys working out.  That isn't exciting.  I do not get pumped when I see someone deadlift.  I can't be alone on this.  Big hits, that's what I want to see.  Hell, if you need to, just show Jadeveon Clowney knocking that Michigan kid out from last year.  Everyone likes that clip...except for the Michigan kid.  Big hits, big catches, big runs.  This isn't rocket science.  Violence and scoring, that's what makes football fans happy.  Come on OSU Marketing Department, I know you've got it in you.

Bonus Request  We are still probably a season or so out to really see what Graham can do at ASU.  But I'd like two small things this year: 1. Beat Arizona.  2. Beat Oregon.  No explanation needed here.  That's what I'd like.  Have a good season, go to a bowl someone has heard of, and come back to challenge for the PAC title in 2014.  See how reasonable I am?  It is possible.

And that's it.  That's all I need to make this football season a success in my eyes?  How hard can that be?

Three Hail Marys, Amen and GO POKES!

Football 101

Yes, I realize this is a picture of a basketball, but I was going more for the message, not the picture.  On a side note, if you are super bored one day, you should check out nataliedee.com.  Funny, funny stuff.  It can be a little vulgar, so if you are easily offended, I'm not actually sure why you are reading my blog in the first place.

So every year, I write a wishlist to God and the Universe about my hopes and dreams for the upcoming OSU football season.  I plan to do that again this year, but I wanted to get a few thoughts off my chest about football in general.

First, I don't need one more magazine with Johnny Football on the cover.  I've exceeded my limit.  I don't know who I need to  contact at Sports Illustrated to let them know that I am not an A&M fan.  No more.  I think we can all agree that he broke the rules and he's going to get away with it.  Because that's the way the world works.  If he had been playing for Oklahoma State, they would shut down the entire football program and made each fan pay $1,000 as punishment for cheering for such a louse (yes, I used the word louse.  I'm apparently 86).  I think we can also all agree that the kid isn't all that smart.  How do I know this?  First, he hired a 20 year-old college dropout to be his agent and handle his media requests.  The funny thing about college sports is that there are these magical creatures called Sports Information Directors.  It is actually their full-time job to handle the media.  You don't have to hire your buddy from high school to do it.  It's a built in perk.  And I can guarantee that every single SID in the entire country is smarter than the jackhole Manziel has running his affairs.  Also, in one of the 64 articles I read about this kid, it talked about how he had to call his younger sister to walk him through making mac n' cheese.  Seriously?  Boil water, put noodles in, squirt yellow goo on noodles, stir, and serve.  I'm positive that my 11-month old could make mac n' cheese right now if I trusted her around the stove.  However, she can't be trusted around anything.  Spencer and Johnny Manziel...not to be trusted at all. And frankly, I'm sick of them both.  Just kidding, I love my kid.  It was a joke.  Stop judging me.

Second, I'm approaching this season with a bit of trepidation.  In our house, we cheer for three football teams:  Oklahoma State, Arizona State, and the Denver Broncos.  We have learned over the coarse of our marriage that it is against physics/science/God's will for all three teams to win the same weekend.  So, as the season is almost here, I wonder, who will suck this year?  Who will break my heart?  And if it's ASU, can I get some support on convincing Husband not to watch the games on delay via DVR?  He records the Sun Devils' games and will watch them in their entirety even though they've been over for hours.  I cannot stand this.  I always look up the score.  The thought that games are over and you don't know the results, is not something I can handle.  I always know when the Devils are going to lose, and I then in turn, subconsciously suggest we don't watch the recorded game.  By subconsciously, I mean, I usually say something to the effect, "I know how this ends.  You don't want to watch it."  I'm a good wife.

And finally, I have my final Fantasy Football draft this week.  I'm not off to the best start.  I've managed to draft a guy who is a free agent (oopsie) and a receiver who has Terrell Pryor throwing him the ball, so that should work out swimmingly.  I feel a big redemption coming on Thursday.  I will have to say, my team names this year are top notch.  Maybe I'll get some consolation money for being so witty.  For real, how do I get paid for my wit?  It is my destiny.  Behold Kathy's fantasy teams: Cry Me a Philip Rivers, Shannon Sharpe-nado, and Weeden My Brownies.

Go forth and score, people.

That tank top makes you look suspicious

I drove to Stillwater yesterday.  I do this once a month during the school year to volunteer with my old sorority.  It is a good way to remind me that I'm not young anymore, that I am in fact old and out of touch.  Just in case my sore back and Blackberry didn't remind me enough.

On my drive, I got pulled over for speeding.  I hit "resume" instead of "set" on my cruise control and therefore I was going 12 mph over the speed limit.  Technology can be so tricky.  My brush with the law brought out my apparent shear terror of the police.  My heart was beating hard, my hands shaking, I was reacting as if I transporting heroin.  Good lord, if I ever do commit a real crime, I have no shot at all.  It made me question what went wrong in my life that I am that terrified of cops.  Maybe I have a naturally guilty conscious.  Maybe I'm a criminal and I don't even know it.  My god, am I a sociopath?  Maybe my name really is Kathy.  I may have to go underground for a while, don't contact me, I'll contact you.

After I got sprung from the pokey, actually he just gave me a warning, I proceeded on to the greatest little town on earth and headed to my old stomping grounds.  I volunteered to giving a rousing and inspirational talk about the importance of using good judgment while on social media to the girls.  Hopefully, none of them can find this blog and raise a point of order regarding hypocrisy.  In my defense, as far as I know, I haven't lost out to any promotions or job opportunities due to this collection of rambling thoughts.  Then again, I have fallen short of my end goal of being President of the World...but I feel like I that could probably be tied back to a few other things.  It's not an exact science.

Following my meeting, I ventured to a couple of stores to buy some Oklahoma State clothing for my kid.  I mean, football season is right around the corner, after all.  She needs some options.  I, of course, was also on the lookout for myself.  My gameday style is always evolving...unless I find a lucky outfit, then I will continue to wear it each week.  I will make that sacrifice for the team.  This pretty much means I'm a martyr.  Actually, that isn't even close to the definition of martyr.  I was just joking...sheesh.  Give me a break.  Who are you?  The definition police?  Didn't I already establish that I'm afraid of the police?  Back off!

On my shopping trip, I discovered something that probably everyone else already knows...tank tops are back, with a vengeance.  I'm not really at a place in my life to wear tank tops. So my other options are the women's tops that feature bedazzling.  That's not really my style either.  And by "not really," I mean, hell no.  I mean, is there not a middle ground?  Are 30-somethings not expected to attend sporting events?    I feel like I am having to choose between lace booty shorts (all the rage last season) and mom jeans. Instead, I bought a men's t-shirt and decided to regroup and return at a later date.

So let's circle back and review what we have learned here today.  I may or may not be a stone cold criminal who will be speaking to sorority girls about making good decisions in an outfit yet to be determined.  Great.  My life is right on track.

The orange owl in the oven

Hey party people.  What's the haps?  I bet you are all wondering how I'm doing on my voyage of single-parentdom.  Fear not, I have an update for you.

The baby has strep throat.  Cool, huh?  I thought so too.  A perfect story about how my journey has gone was Friday night.  Bedtime took a lot longer than it normally does.  Once I finally laid her in her crib, I tip-toed out the door, my trusty sidekick was right at my heels.  He immediately heard a sound and started to bark like crazy.  The baby woke up.  I cussed and then went to comfort my tiny human.  Fifteen minutes later, I exited the nursery.  I looked at Mr. Bojangles and told him, "I will murder you if you bark again."  He nodded in agreement and went to hump his dog bed.  As I was picking up the 4,600 toys in the living room, I all of a sudden heard music.  A trombone to be exact.  A wailing trombone coming from the baby's room.  At first, I thought, "My God!  She has crawled out of the crib and is playing on the floor."  I looked at the monitor and alas, she was still in the crib.  I poked my head into the room to discover that the music table had a short in it and the trombone was playing on repeat.  Either that, or it the music table is haunted, which is a real possibility.  The baby then began to scream as if she had been cast in a horror movie.  It was a pretty epic night.

I think all this alone time is also making me crazy.  First, I had a dream last night that Beyonce came over.  Which Beyonce, you ask?  Beyonce Carter.  Just as I was apologizing to her about what a mess my house was, I woke up.  Because even my subconscious knows that Beyonce is never coming over.

The next warning sign came as I was playing on the floor with the kids after work on Tuesday.  The fur-covered kid thinks that when you are on the floor, you are there for the sole purpose to play with him.  So I was throwing the tennis ball across the room for the dog to chase and accidentally threw it right at the oven.  Bing!  The oven light came on.  So I did it again to see if it was a fluke.  For it was not.  I did it over and over again, entertaining myself, and then thought, "If Husband was here, throwing a tennis ball across the room at the oven just to see the light come on, I would more than likely yell at him."  But he isn't here, is he?  No, he's in Spain.  Eating "the best meal of his entire life."  Cool story.  I ate a frozen Weight Watchers Swedish Meatball meal for dinner.  And I ate it in a minute and a half flat.  So I will throw the damn ball, and I will like it.

After washing the bottles later that night, I heard hooting coming from the freezer.  Like a real owl.  I had talked myself into the fact that there was an owl in my freezer, but I just didn't have the energy to check it out.  I mean, if I were to investigate, can you imagine the shenanigans that would follow.  Ain't nobody got time for that.  If there is an owl in my freezer, he will still be there tomorrow.  Owls don't have opposable thumbs, how would he get out?

And finally, I need to call all of your attention to something I came across yesterday.  I don't understand it, I need someone to tell me why it exists.  See, as an OSU fan, I'm always on the lookout for more orange clothing.  As I see it, you just can't have enough.  In fact, I got two new orange items just last week.  Hooray!  Kathy helps the economy.  I feel like I have to up my game this year, because my boss is a Sooner fan.  I gotta represent, yo.  I told her about a month ago, "Just so you know, I wear orange every Friday during football season.  I thought you should know."  She laughed and asked sarcastically, "What? Is it a requirement?"  Me: "Yes.  It's called Orange Friday."  So anyway, I came across this gem as I was surfing the interwebs.  What the hell?  Who would wear this?  Who is the target market?  It resembles something you would wrap a Civil War soldier's bloody head in from a battlefield injury.  Are you supposed to wear this on purpose?  Is this targeting the "rock n' roll" Cowboy crowd?  WHO WILL WEAR THIS?  I just don't understand.... I ordered three.

So that's my update.  Husband will be home at 10pm on Thursday.  Who wants to meet me for a drink at 10:15pm?

Super mom? Let's hope so.

I don't blog much about being a mom.  It's not because I don't love it, I do.  But I don't really have a lot of fascinating things to say about being a mom.  Approximately 80% of the time, I'm not even sure I'm doing it right.  I follow a "mom's group" on facebook and at least once a day I think, "Oh crap.  Am I supposed to be doing that?"  Then I spend an hour googling whether or not I've neglected my child because I'm not taking her to Gymboree.  But today, I'm going to blog about being a mom.  For those of you who read this blog for sports, general observations, and snark, fear not.  Two of those things are included.

As of 12:40 p.m. today, I am a single parent for the next eight days.  Husband is off to gallivant around Spain.  Jerk.  In all seriousness, I'm thrilled for him and this opportunity.  I'm also excited for my multitudes of Spanish gifts that will accompany his return.  I am, however, freaking out a bit about having ALL the responsibility.  I'm confident in saying that I'm not cut out for this.

I had to stay home with Spencer yesterday morning because she had been banished from daycare.  We got up, had a bottle, ate breakfast, crawled to the dog food bowl six times, played with our little house toy, read eight books, sang songs, watched the dog run around the  house at an incredible rate for God knows what reason, threw our pants behind the changing table, played with our music table, pulled every toy out of the toy bucket and put them back in, twice, and pulled the dog's tail.  Then I looked at the clock and realized it was only 9:15 a.m.  How is it possible to do this much living that early in the morning?  I sent Husband a text that said, "SOS! I don't think I'm going to make it until nap time."  So when the kid went down for a nap, so did I.

There is a strong possibility that I may not survive the next eight days.  I can't even figure out how to break the baby's intense attraction to the dog food bowl.  She must crawl there 84 times a day.  As a result, the dog races to his food every time she is on the move and thus is overeating.  He's putting on weight as a defense mechanism.  Been there before, brotha.  My go-to schtick for soothing the baby is to sing.  I have a four-song set list: Oklahoma! (with arm movements), Ride 'Em Cowboys, and two Pi Phi songs.  When I finish, I start over.  My mom told me I need to learn some lullabies.  She's probably right, but I'm telling you, the gusto with  which I perform my state song and fight song are really a big hit with the 11-month old crowd.

I'm writing this blog for two reasons: 1. It's my passive-aggressive way to get sympathy.  I'm hoping for lots of, "You can do it, Kath!" comments.  If I don't get them, I think that's probably a good sign that you all agree that I may not make it.  And 2. As a warning, in case I show up at one of your doorsteps wearing a bathrobe and curlers in my hair begging for help.  I don't actually own curlers, but maybe I'll buy some to drive the point home.

I shall finish with this hear-felt prayer, "Dear God: Please give the ability to keep track of my child, brush both my hair and teeth every day, wearing matching shoes, keep the dog alive, and have the energy necessary to keep up with Super Baby."  Five Hail Mary's and Amen.