Objects of my affection...and not so much my affection...

So this weekend, my arts and humanities vibe kicked in and I headed to a local art museum to see this new exhibit, "Object Project." The concept is you take five obscure objects (see picture above) and give them to 15 different artists and see what happens. I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed it. There were even a couple paintings I wouldn't mind hanging in my house, which I didn't expect to find.


While I was pretending to be cultured and look at modern art, my loving husband was quite possibly doing the total and complete opposite. Before I get to the part of what he was doing to prove his manliness, I should start off by giving a little preface:


It's that time of the year again when I wake up one morning and realize I've lost my husband. No, he's not physically gone, it's more a state of mind: he's mentally been sucked into the realm of college football. It's depressing and it happens every year. I have been dreading it since about August 1 when the countdown was posted on our fridge: "30 days until the season starts." Now, I knew what I was getting into when I married the boy, but it just seems to keep getting worse each year. And now, to top it all off, he's joined this fantasy football thing and so I lose him on Sundays and Mondays now too. (sigh)

Now, back to me acting like I have a college education and my husband reverting back to the days when people communicated by grunting and scratching. I came home to find sawdust, spray paint, concrete dust and some weird looking box that was being painted orange. The weird looking box was being mounted to a large piece of wood that was also being painted orange. And beneath the orange box on top of the orange piece of wood, was some travel trailer thing that was -you guessed it - also being painted orange. (If you don't know me or haven't figured it out, our team's color is orange.) Some days, I thank my lucky stars we root for the same team. Otherwise we would be in counseling. Seriously. I am all for school spirit, but sometimes I wonder about him. Especially when he starts taking on multiple personalities within the first quarter of games- "I hate our quarterback, I love our quarterback, I hate our quarterback."

Yes, folks, it's that time of the year again. This coming Saturday, he will spring out of bed at the crack of dawn, sprint to our hall closet, remove a tattered, old, orange flag and race to our porch where he will then hoist the flag with a look of glee spread on his face. He will then race to the coffee pot, start the morning brew and sit perched in his man chair as he countdowns the seconds until that Herbsteit guy's smile illuminates our tv screen. Ahhh, game day. Meanwhile, his loving wife will sleep peacefully until I am awakened by him rummaging through his dresser as he looks for the perfect orange shirt to proudly wear that day. He will change three times, each time putting on a different orange shirt and asking which one he should wear. My dear husband, they are all orange. What difference does it make? (again, another sigh).

You should all know, that I love him despite his traditions and quirks that come out once a year for three long, lonely months. (Lonely to me because unless I too am wearing orange or can start signing the fight song as he hoists the flag each Saturday, I am pretty much left to talk to myself and the dog. Who also has an orange jersey in case you were wondering). Now, our team doesn't really have a winning record. In anything. Never have, never will. But that doesn't stop his enthusiasm, as "maybe this year will be the year, Lisa!" is screamed back to me when I remind him of this small, moot point. Can't blame the boy for dreaming.

I could conclude this post by saying I wouldn't have it any other way. I think that may be a teensy white lie. But, I wouldn't trade my husband for the world. And that is the truth. Go Pokes.