Monthly Archives: December 2011

Touchy Subject

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Sunday was a one of the days that I don’t look forward to in our house:

the Minnesota Vikings vs. the Detroit Lions

Since they are in the same division, they always battle twice a year and those days are filled with suspense and jumping, mixed in with anger and frustration and excessive cursing.

You see, I’m a wee bit competitive.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an understatement. Anyone who has seen me in any sort of competitive atmosphere knows that I can get ugly. Really ugly. It’s one of the genetic traits that I have inherited from my father, along with his love of Storage Wars and sense of direction.

You may wonder, then, why in the world would I be a Detroit Lions fan.

1. I grew up in Michigan.

2. I would be promptly excommunicated from my family if I wasn’t.

3. I’ve always had a thing for the underdog.

4. There is no way that I would EVER root for the Vikings. Unless they’re playing the Packers, I suppose. But in that situation I would just hope that somehow both teams could lose. And I’m not talking about a tie. I’m talking about both teams completely losing. There must be some way.

5. Jason Hanson’s my man. I’ve ranted and raved about him so much that Steve even put him on his fantasy team.  He started in the NFL when I was 6. And I’ve always liked #4 (Joe Dumars, especially).

Being a Lions fan, I’ve had my fair share of heartbreak and ridicule. But through it all, I’ve stuck by my team.

Now that the team is getting a little recognition nationally, I’ve been lucky enough to be able to watch a majority of their games. And every week it’s the same old stuff about how they’re a dirty team and the players need to be reigned in.

Blah.

Blah.

Blah.

Luckily Steve has been focusing more on his fancy fantasy team that the Vikings and he’s actually got a few Lions on his team, too, so he can’t help but root for team a little bit. I hate to be called a sore winner/loser, so whenever a snide comment is made to me about my team by the one who said all that for-better-or-worse stuff, I just keep my mouth shut.

But yesterday I just could not help myself.

The game was intense.

First this happened:

And these things happened:

Sidenote: the broadcaster for the game kept saying “Gerald Allen” instead of “Jared Allen”. And this was at least the second week I’ve heard him do this. Does no one on the Fox team notice? Are they too afraid to say something? Get his name right, announcer-guy. I can’t stand Allen, but even I know what his name is.

But then this started happening, just like it always does to the Lions:

And again:

I felt like I was going to toss my tacos all over the living room floor.  My teams always like to keep it exciting.

I will be grey before 30.

And, for those who were too busy not watching the game, this happened on the last play of the game:

Note: ball is already out of his hand thank-you-very-much.

The Lions have a way of getting called for penalties. It’s an art they have perfected, especially in game-winning/losing situations, so I was just as shocked as everyone else when this wasn’t called.

It’s just what the Lions do: screw up at the last possible moment to lose the game.

At the conclusion of this mess of a game, words were said in our house. Rooms were upsetly exited and phone calls were made to Lion country. I won’t get into the gritty details, but things like “the only reason the Lions won was because of that facemask” and “you’re right. It wasn’t the all the points they got on Minnesota turnovers” may have been uttered.

But I won’t get into too many details.

And I’m not going to hold anything against Steve. I’m pretty sure he was just upset that he sat the Lions defense this week.

Photos are from here.

And while finding these pictures, I came across this jem. Like I needed another reason to loathe Jared Allen other than his poor grooming choices and red-necked-ness.

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Who’s crafty?

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Our friend has been staying with us while she was working a short-term job (relatively) close to our house. We decided that Friday would be a night of  Steve watching a movie while my friend and I crafted.

Or as I like to call it:

Rae burning herself with a hot glue gun.

4 times.

While watching Ryan Reynolds in spandex.

I should not be so easily distracted when crafting.

Mine would look this good if I had patience and didn't have hotdog fingers.

Over Thanksgiving weekend, I spent a day in my mother-in-law’s quilt shop and she taught me how to make zipper daisies. (See picture above. I had help. A lot of it.) My fingers are still recovering from being overly poked. They required a wee bit of sewing and almost every customer that came in to find fabric and such steered clear of my area.

Probably because of the grunting.

I’m really bad at crafting. I take crafting very seriously.

These are super cute and I wanted to make some for people I know, but I didn’t grab zippers from my MIL before I left and I definitely did not have the patience time to sew all of these.

Enter: hot glue gun.

Boom! Crafted.

Next on the list was something that Aly found at Lowe’s, but it anyone asks, we came up with it on our own. We’re just that awesome.

The painting aspect was a bit daunting for the both of us. I can hot glue, but when it comes down to drawing or painting, count me out. Luckily, this little guy only had stripes and dots, both of which took practice but not nearly as difficult as a nose.

The Beast practiced her reasoning skills when her father and Aunt Aly put her kong filled with tasty treats under her mortal enemy.

Why she’s afraid of the clothes basket, we’ll never know.

This puzzle took her a while: pushing it around, hitting it with her paw, howling at us for laughing.

She did push it over to the stairs and tried to go under it while it was hanging over the edge, but then she reached her limit and hip-checked the basket down the stairs.

She’s a genius.

On Saturday we were prepping for our annual holiday party, so Aly and I went in search of sterno light-heater things. Much more difficult to find than you’d imagine.

We took a detour to stop at one of my favorite local stores and saw this.

And I immediately thought of this. Obviously.

I need this penguin. She’s just so darn cute.

And tall.

I texted Steve a picture of the future Ms. Penelope the Penguin.

Rae: I want this.

Steve: I never know if you are kidding or not.

Rae: It depends.

I’m still hoping that Penelope will end up under our tree this Christmas. She’s a poor blind penguin that is just looking for a little love in the cold Minnesota tundra and the best part: she’s even on sale!

Maybe when my short friend comes out to visit before her big move she can convince Steve that Penelope is a responsible investment and could become a family heirloom.

My future offspring are in for a treat: the strangest mother on the block.

And a large metal penguin.