Last Sunday was my birthday. No, I’m not going to tell you what birthday, but it was a significant birthday.
My husband gave me the option to plan the big day. So I did. So Happens my birthday fell on a Sunday.
All weekend my husband was telling people, “my wife is the kind of wife other men dream about.”
So what did I plan? A weekend in a love nest hotel? A weekend cruise? A Las Vegas getaway?
Just so happens the Seattle Seahawks were playing the Dallas Cowboys that day, and I bought two tickets. He’s a big fan. But so am I.
I love every aspect of the game; the downs, the penalties, the passing, the missed hits, the perfect throws, the blocking, tackling, kick-offs and runbacks.
And I married the man who can explain it all, who can call the plays and explain the flags, and who understands all the nuances of the game.
Watching the Seahawks demolish Romo’s team while the fans screamed and the crowds roared made my birthday.
I’m not sure if our seats were in what my husband refers to as the “nosebleed” section, but when the paratroopers sailed over the rim of the stadium roof, we could see the whites of their eyes.
We were there, and what a thrill! Now I ask you, is my love for football a symptom of Asperger’s? Or is it Just Me Being Me?