Just a Man

At some point you realize your parents are just people. Real people with flaws who don't have any special powers. It's a normal part of growing up.

But, I don't even like my father as a person.

What now?

" .... go marching in."

As Hartley's kick headed straight at the center of those uprights I remained silent. I just waited because even though it looked good you just never know. It could be short. I've seen that.

And then it happened: THE SAINTS ARE GOING TO THE SUPER BOWL!

Those boys made me cry again, only these are tears of joy.

I want to believe. I want to say, "They have really changed. This time it really IS different."

I want it to be.
Please let it be.

Who DAT!!!!!

Oh When the Saints . . .

I've been a Saints fan since elementary school.

I wanted so much to be the apple of my father's eye that I'd watch the games with him. I didn't get what was going on, but I'd listen intently as he absent-mindedly explained the game to me. It took me years before I really understood what was going on.

My patience paid off because as I got older my dad would take me to the Superdome to watch the games. Being the world's biggest cheapskate we only went when someone in his office decided not to use his tickets. The Saints were not a winning team at the time so we went to a number of games.

I can still hear the crack of the helmets when they smack against each other. The sound of a perfectly kicked field goal. Morten Andersen was our only hope: The Great Dane.

You learn a lot of lessons as a Saints fan.

You learn about persistence, loyalty, hope. If you've been a fan for any length of time you realize you can't be a fair-weather fan. Loving the Saints also means learning to accept disapointment, loss and heartache.

Even knowing that, I let myself dream. The 2006/2007 season felt like the payoff after all those years of being a fan. We were so close and then on January 21, 2007 when the Saints lost 39–14 to the Chicago Bears in the NFC Championship game something happened.

I was running errands near the end of the game, and I was listening to it on the radio. Parked in the lot of Petsmart I laid my head on the steering wheel, and I cried like a baby.

I am not even kidding when I tell you that up until that point I fantasized about the announcer yelling, "And the SAINTS have won the Super Bowl."

I felt like a fool for crying over a game, but even worse I felt like a fool for allowing myself to even think WINNING the Super Bowl was a possibility. Since then I've taken the whole "Fool me once . . . " attitude towards the Saints. Then this season happened.

I told my mom that I broke up with the Saints because it's too much like staying with an abusive boyfriend. Year after year you tell yourself, "This time it will be different," and then they go and break your heart again. Even with the score at Saints 45-14 with a two-minute warning I was certain the Saints would blow it last week. But they didn't.

Now here we are.

Fashion Faux Pas

I grew up in the 80s and started to care about fashion in the 90s. Please understand that when I say "care" I really just mean I became aware that clothes were for more than just covering up.

I loved Madonna's Like a Virgin look, but I knew I couldn't pull it off. Sadly, I tried. Then I saw Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles, Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink. In Sixteen Candles she had that great hat and the navy blue shirt and long skirt. I tried to pick clothes that had similar silhouettes, but they just made me like I was on a day trip from "the home."

Then I really wanted to look like her in Breakfast Club. Of course, she was covered in head-to-toe Ralph Lauren. But . . . oh . . . those boots she wore in that movie: I still covet them.

Or course, who can forget the wardrobe she had in Pretty in Pink. Andy was living Project Runway. The prom dress though? Yeah, not so much. Still though, I wanted to wear those cute little thrift store outfits, but I just looked homeless.

I'm still trying to figure out my