I'm sure somebody is expecting me to comment on Brett Favre's return to the Vikings. So here it is:
Eh.
Seriously, I was pretty sure he wouldn't return because he was scared of losing to Green Bay this year. I hope to hell he does. I will watch those two games and wear whatever green and yellow I can find in my closet (maybe I'll have to buy some) while I'm rooting for the Packers.
But I no longer am annoyed at Favre for this circus. I'm annoyed at ESPN. Already this summer we've had a whole day of retirement coverage, a whole day of "Favre is on a plane" coverage and a whole day (so far) of "he's back" coverage.
Let's face it, ESPN has lost its soul. I'm pretty sure they sold it to get the latest Favre news and, possibly, Rachel Nichols.
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I finished re-assembling and cleaning the nursery yesterday, all that remains is laundry. I'd post a few photos, but that wouldn't be very manly. And the new nightlight? By God, it works. It works so well that it could be a beacon for passing ships. You could flag down a 747 with that thing.
But still, it's weird to look at the fully-assembled crib and think that in a few weeks (or sooner), there will be a new baby in there. When the boy was on the way, all we thought about for months was "child, child, child, child, child" and the preparations were a result of that.
This time, it seems all I can think about (in addition to continuing to raise the 3-year-old) is "preparation, preparation, preparation" and it seems that child will come as a result of being, finally, ready.
Does that make sense? I guess, this time, the actual child seems a bit more theoretical than before (despite two doctor's visits a week).
That's from my perspective, mind you. There is nothing theoretical about Shannon's misery. If you want to suggest otherwise, please warn me so I can stand far away when you do.
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A sidebar to the Favre story …
When I was reading a biography on George S. Patton, there was a story in there, likely apocryphal (I finally have a firm grasp on that word, so I'm gonna use it), that when Patton was a young boy in Virginia, there were portraits of Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson in the kitchen. These portraits were treated with such reverence that Patton grew up thinking they were God and Jesus.
(It makes more sense when you remember Lee was a composed, white-haired man and Jackson had a long beard. Also, this was late 19th-century Virginia.)
Anyway, there's little doubt with all the photos of Willie Nelson around here, that the boy is bound to mistake him for a major religious figure. I'm just hoping the nonstop ESPN coverage doesn't convince the boy that Brett Favre is Jesus.
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