To start this out, I have to say, I know nothing about football.
I once referred to football helmets as "Fancy Hats" during the last and only game I've ever watched all the way through. During that time, I also asked, "How do you score? No one's getting the ball through the hoop!"
It was then explained that the goal-post thingies are only one of several ways that a team can score.
From this I gathered that running to the painted part without your name on it and doing a Happy Dance means you get points.
I think you should get points when the whole of both teams land on top of you. But you don't get anything but bruises when that happens.
I think I may have fooled some people this year, because I repeatedly told my friends and family, co-workers, and passing strangers about how much I was looking forward to Sunday.
This was due to the airing of the final segment of Emma on the PBS show Masterpiece Classic (formerly just Masterpiece Theater, but now they have Classic and Mystery, just to annoy me, since it means they don't really show that cool intro to Mystery that I've loved for as long as I can remember.
My cover was blown, however, when I walked into the local branch of my bank on Friday to find everyone inside sporting Colts jerseys.
"Is there a game?" I asked warily.
"Yes," they answered.
"Sunday," the teller said, taking my deposit slip.
"Yes," she replied. "Sunday is the Superbowl."
"Oh," I said.
"The Colts are playing."
"I thought the Superbowl was later," I said. "Isn't it usually later?"
But the damage was done. I took my envelope and left, taking my ignorance with me.
In my defense, I knew the Colts were playing. But no one had mentioned to me when the Superbowl was, so I didn't know. I know it's usually in Florida, though. Maybe it's always there...Andy told me something like that once. Am I remembering right, Andy?
Late last night, Mom came into my doorway and knocked. I told her to enter (this was a thing yesterday). When she opened the door, she said, "The Superbowl was lost by us."
Then she left, as I began my hysterical laughter.
I wasn't laughing at the result of the game, or that it took us so much longer than the rest of the world to find out when we saw it on the evening news (I'm imagining--how late did the game go?). No, I was laughing at something completely different.
Jennifer knows. What was wrong with Mom's sentence, Jen?
Dr. Planer could tell us.
That's right! It's a passive sentence!
Mom ought to have said something like, "We lost the Superbowl."
Instead she gave me a good laugh and proved once and for all that I am a grammar nerd. That being said, I totally disregard grammar for the purposes of this blog. You may have noticed.
Normally I shrug off things like this. Or at least, I shrug them off when the result isn't funny. But this time it was hilarious. I think the grammar thing is the reason I love Castle so much.
I think the sharp contrast of the Superbowl and the Grammar Issue illustrates well the difference between me and other, perhaps more normal, humans. It shows you that I am, as I discussed with Jen the other night, a freak of nature.
In the spectrum of things I choose to care about, the Superbowl ranks relatively low. It might be closer to comets hurtling toward the earth (something that might be worrisome but that I have no control over) than to the state of my car (something that determines how I will get to the store to buy provisions for when the comet hits).
So while I can see why someone would be excited for the Superbowl, I don't share the sentiment. I would much rather be reading.
Oh, reading, you ask? Witness my smooth transition!
When Jennifer and I were out on Saturday, we discussed the several topics we always cover: The state of education and its effects on Jennifer's livelihood, how single the two of us are and why we think that is, and food.
We finished up our conversation about food by watching Anthony Bourdain talk about food.
We'd gone to the bookstore that night to get Jen a copy of The Lightning Thief--the first Percy Jackson book--so that she can get with the program before I drag her out to see the movie this weekend. And while we were doing this, I looked for a book that I could buy and read, or, failing that, a book I could read on my Kindle.
Here is where we meet with the greatest obstacle of library work.
I know all the books. All of them, before they come out, because I get those journals that tell me how many stars a book gets and if I should buy it, then we order it at the library, and I read it. This means I end up with tons of books to read, but it also means that I spend a lot of time doing something I really hate.
John Green has a new book coming out. In March. Maureen Johnson's next one? Maybe 2011...we hope. Melina Marchetta? It's being sent in the mail right now, could be the weekend before it arrives. Laurie Notaro? April, and it's a novel not a collection of essays...and I live and die for those essays. I even have to wait for the next of the funny chic-lit spy books that I love--the next one of Ally Carter's series is due out in June. The Hunger Games III? August. Again, I hope. Patricia McKillip? Who knows. And several of those are just the ones for Work Laura. Not Fun Laura! Fun Laura has a whole different list of books she's waiting for too!
Publishers like to push back dates like that from time to time. Still, I wait, the receipt from my online pre-orders clenched in my hands.
The good think about my Kindle (aside from it's inherent coolness factor) is that when I preorder something I'm dying to read but think I'm only going to read the one time (or that I'm going to read dozens of times when I'm bored in waiting rooms so I should get paperback editions because they'll get devastated by knitting needles and normal wear-and-tear), I can get whatever book it is that I'm waiting for when I want it, which is the instant it goes on sale. No more waiting for books I want to read in an afternoon as they slowly make their way from the publishing warehouse to my house, first stopping in Indy for three days (with no real reason for the delay).
So at 12:01 tonight I'm waking up Mr. Kindle so he can download the new Ally Carter book. It might not be spies, but it's bound to be fun and I won't have to keep the hardcover on my bookshelf for an eternity when I need the room for my copy of The Name of the Rose and all of Patricia A. McKillip's books. Because this is one of those things I choose to care about. Or, more accurately, obsess about.
Meanwhile, I must say that I have less than a week before the Knitting Olympics begin. I have been training for years (ha, ha) and feel good about my chances. In order to better prepare, I've decided that tonight I'm going to Walmart after work and picking up season one of Gilmore Girls, because...why not? Mostly because I love the mom. She cracks me up.
If I seem cranky tomorrow, It's because I was waiting for 12:01 to download something and I decided that, after all the waiting, I deserved to read a chapter before i fell asleep, only to end up reading the whole novel when I ought to have been sleeping.
Try and diagram that sentence.