Sunday's in Autumn

Regardless what the temps are telling me, it's fall. I know this because age old autumn rituals are being performed around the country. It involves snacking, BBQ'ing, remotes, wearing of sometimes gawd awful colors and lots and lots of shouting. The boys of summer have given way to a louder and more physical sport. It's Football!

Comfy chairs are doing double duty propping up those armchair quarterbacks. Miller, Bud, Coors and Frito-Lay must all see a major jump in sales and I would bet this is the premier time to buy a big screen TV. I like football, to me it now means knitting and spinning, a little grumbling at a bad play (assuming I recognize it as such) naps with a heap of critters on my lap and easy Sunday stews and soups that carry on into the week, getting thicker and tastier at least until the third time around. A day to be productively unproductive.

I grew up in a football household. Sunday at 1:00 p.m. the work stopped and the TV went on. The Jiffy-Pop Popcorn came out and homemade pizza for dinner. There were two games usually televised. My interest in the sport at that time was spent hoping the darn things would end on time and we would get to the Wonderful World of Disney on at 7:00 p.m., not "in-progress". Overtime could be tear producing with only one TV in the household and even at that it was in black and white for a very long time. That old Zenith TV lasted well past 15 years, even with the steady secretive curses I put on it. Thank heavens there was no Monday Night Football or special Saturday football, or the ton of games and teams there are now. The draft was not televised.

A steady stream of boyfriends and tailgate parties through the years set the football habit. Sometimes I find it all rather silly that people would be paid the sums they are to play it, or on the dark side, get so injured they wind up in a wheel chair or worse. But, as a boyfriend once pointed out, these things can happen no matter what and by the way, do I have a contract to fall back on should I take a bad spill on a horse. Point made. I'll keep my aberrant thoughts about, money, performance enhancing drugs, Michael Vick, football and other sports to myself as I know fans can get pretty darn rabid about the whole thing. After all, these are the people they look up to!?

My Dad might be happy to know that while I knitted on his sock some good mojo from the KC game yesterday went into them. And the beautiful roving from Eweniquely Ewe was finally plied.

I'm thinking with the way this plumped up and bloomed that mittens are in order. The vest I'm working on increased while the NYG eeked out a win and I won't discuss the Patriots, it's too painful, although I didn't have to watch it. It was not televised here in Oregon unless I wanted the super duper sports NFL sports package. It was just as well.

On farm news, Bond still hasn't houdinied himself into the tack room. Skunks are on the move though, we can smell them at night near the house. Collectively we all put our noses to the air and what is wafting on the wind lets us know they are afoot. Bea continues to improve and heal. She's downright spunky and thinks she is ready to go get them funny smelling cats! I think not.

It is also hunting season. Pops can be heard now and again. I am still scratching my head as to what someone fairly close is shooting at 3 in the morning. Two big repeats woke all of us up from a sound sleep this morning. All horses and goats are up, breathing and eating. In fact, this new load of hay is pretty darn nice. I am going to have cut back a tad as we seem to have the amazing expanding equines out there. Air ferns all of them. Even Boo the Biafran 4 year old is packing on the pounds, finally.