We live outside Philadelphia. The Phillies are our baseball team. Apparently they are in some sort of tournament or race or whatever it may be to go onto the next level which I believe is called the superbowl.
I have three older sports addicted brothers and a father who knows the statistics of every sporting event ever. I remember one time as a kid I was in Joanne Fabrics with my mom on a Sunday and there was a man in there. Seriously, I was so confused, I said, "Mom, what is that man doing here? Aren't the Eagles on?" She patted my little head and informed me that not ALL men watch, talk, eat, live and breathe sports. This was the first I had ever heard of such an idea.
My dad coached ice hockey and baseball, all my brothers played. Never a day in my childhood went by without some sort of sports talk. I will tell you, my oldest brother, who neither reads or comments on here, actually moved into a different house to get his boys in a different school district for football. It's cool, whatever, I get it. Obsession. I travel for yoga. I will spend hours on Itunes. We all have our hooks.
I will admit that besides all his other amazing qualities, one of my favorite things about Marc is that he doesn't plan his Sunday around a football game. He knows what's going on, it's just not the end all be all for him. I love that about him.
So the point of this, I just click onto one of my favorite time sucks called facebook and I see that Lisa, my side kick, my other half, the one who at times I feel I morph into has as her status, "Lisa is..... so happy the Phillies won last night." Um. What? Since when? I talk to her 323 times a day and we have never once mentioned the Phillies. "Amy is....confused???"