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My first-ever fall break (thank you school system!) happened to coincide with the arrival of several weather events that have made the week off anywhere from soggy to soaked. My intended plans (hiking, planting and general yard work and washing my car) were drafted prior to the forecast and had to be jettisoned once the preponderance of rainfall became apparent.

I briefly contemplated shifting my plans, but ultimately I decided to simply enjoy the molasses-pace of a week confined mostly to the house. My extroverted husband, who left on Thursday for his annual martial arts camp (so proud of him!!!), seemed horrified by my intentions to stay home alone.

I was excited.

It’s been a week similar to a sea-day on a cruise. Where the things I need to do only occupy a portion of the day and a delicious and the options of things to do are limited by the surroundings. I’ve been able to sink into yin yoga poses without feeling like I needed to rush off to complete something else. I stayed up past my bedtime to watch the Raven beat the Steelers (although I still woke up at 4:30 the following morning:( ). I’ve read through all the library books that the library would let me check out.

And then I reread an old book (Me Before You) before purchasing its newly-released sequel (After You). As an aside, I recommend these books for people struggling after loss. They have a way of speaking to the heart in an indirect an unfussy way.

I’ve burned candles to the base. Sipped endless cups of tea. Played bagpipe music at five in the morning and heavy metal throughout the evening. I’ve worn nothing except sweatpants and workout clothes.

I’ve cleaned out the area under my bathroom sink. Why is it in every single move I’ve ever done, this space always ends up being where I run out of energy and just throw everything down and let it turn into a mess over the years???? Oh well, at least it’s been tamed now.

I wandered through Marshalls and TJ Max and picked up a few shirts. I watched a few YouTube videos on hair and makeup and then, feeling empowered, went to Ulta, where I promptly felt inferior (and frugal!) and walked back out again.

I’ve eaten my weight in salads and pumpkin muffins (seriously easy and healthy – made from oats, cottage cheese and egg whites). And I enjoyed a GF grilled cheese and tomato soup (not healthy but seriously yummy) at a place down the street from me. After all, grilled cheese on a cold and rainy day is pretty much a law.

And I’m just now starting to feel restless. Maybe even a little bored.

And I’m savoring that feeling.

Because life is normally so go go go, that it’s wonderful to simply sit and savor one more slow day.

I’m feeling bummed.

I have assumed that I would undergo some sort of vision-correcting surgery since I first started feeling the impact of my superbly-crappy vision in high school.

It was supposed to happen six years ago.

And then the divorce happened instead.

And so I’ve been patient.

Every time I’ve shelled out $500 for custom-made contacts, I would tell myself that maybe this would be the last time.

When I failed the mask-clearing exercise to try to obtain my SCUBA certification, I promised myself that I would try again once I wasn’t afraid of my contacts washing out.

Every time I’ve felt my stomach drop when I can’t locate my glasses upon waking, I’ve found comfort in the idea that at some point I would no longer be dependent upon my lenses to function.

I thought the only thing standing between me and my new eyes was my lack of money and my crummy credit.

And now that those have improved, I scheduled a consultation for today.

I never imagined that I would face disappointment.

I’m not eligible.

Not because of my bank account.

Or my credit score.

But because of my prescription.

There’s simply not enough real estate on my eyes to be able to reshape them as much as they require.

It was a shock. I knew my eyes were bad. But I didn’t know they were that bad. And even though this discovery helps me communicate my vision difficulties to others (I think my mom is finally getting it and my husband better not tease me anymore about struggling to hit the target at the shooting range), I’d rather fall within the range of fixable.

Because it’s hard hearing a doctor say that there’s nothing they can do. Even when it’s nothing life-threatening.

Feeling bummed and blind.

Frustrated.

And disappointed.

And oh-so-thankful that I live in a time of custom-made toric lenses that at least allow me to drive and read and function.

Even if I have to accept that I’ll never be a SCUBA diving, sharpshooting pilot.

I didn’t grow up around football. All I knew about the sport was that others seemed to be obsessed with the scores while I was obsessed with the way the guys looked in their tight-fitting uniforms. I could have cared less about what they were doing with the pigskin.

All of that changed for me when Brock and I started dating. We met just after football season and were getting pretty serious by the time the next season rolled around. And I realized I had a choice – either see what all the fuss was about and see if I found it interesting or accept that I would never see my husband in the fall.

I chose the former.

For the first year, I asked a lot of questions. And I learned how to follow the game and anticipate the strategy.

But I wasn’t really a fan. I felt no emotion when our team was up or when they were down.

By year two, I was starting to watch the games on my own even when Brock was on the road.

And by year three? I was hooked.

And now it’s year five. Brock is teaching and I’m curled up on the couch with the Falcon’s game on the screen and my computer in my lap.

So why did this sports-inept, introverted bookworm decide she loves football? Here’s why –

1. I enjoy the trash talk. As an only child, I wasn’t part of the normal ribbing that siblings give each other. It’s fun to participate in its good-natured fun as an adult.

2. I love riding the emotional roller coaster of a good game. It’s purgative. A release. And I especially enjoy it because the outcomes don’t really matter. It’s much the same as the thrill from a scary movie or a good ride. Or, if it’s an especially great game, jumping out of a plane🙂

3. There is something comforting about being part of a larger group. Of belonging. When I see other Ravens’ shirts, I immediately know that I have something in common with that person.

4. As a Type A+ person, I enjoy the excuse to relax. And it’s timed perfectly with the exhale of fall and after the initial school year craziness. And football in front of a roaring fire is absolutely the best!

5. I tend to be in my head. A lot. It’s nice to do something that doesn’t require too much thinking sometimes. It’s just football.  No deeper meaning required.

6. Football encourages you to live in the moment. You can try to anticipate. To plan. But surprises always await.

7. In our world that is increasingly excessively politically correct, it’s refreshing to be around fans of the sport that tend to say it like it is. Instead of the thesaurus-laden speech meant to soften the blow.

8. The athleticism of the players never ceases to amaze me. A 6’2” 290-lb man that can sprint faster than I can? Mad respect.

9. Football fans know that some seasons are simply bad. And all you can do is accept that. And stay loyal regardless all while hoping that the next season will be better. Good lesson for life. None of us are always winners.

10. Most football fans learn how to take a loss. They may be crying into their beers or collapsed on the floor, but most will still extend a fist bump to a rival fan with a choked-up, “Good game, man.” I like that.

11. Football teams and players have to be responsive and adaptive. If they always play the game the way they want instead of the game their opposing team requires, they will not be successful. It’s a good reminder to be flexible.

12. It’s not over until it’s over. I used to make the mistake of assuming (and verbalizing) a win or a loss several minutes before the end. I’ve learned. No matter how dire the circumstances, there is always hope.

13. Loyalty to a team is greater than a single player or a single play. Once you’ve sworn your allegiance, you’re in. For the good times and the bad. And you never, ever act ashamed of your team even when they pull bonehead moves.

14. I’m a big fan of scheduled smiles. And football’s schedule allows consistent anticipation and regular games.

15. Injuries happen. Sometimes they are life-changing. But the players also demonstrate amazing strength and perseverance in pushing through their limitations. I respect that.

16. And on a more serious note, football (and often its players), brings important conversations to the forefront with audiences that may not usually be engaged in the topic (I’m thinking mainly of domestic violence here but mental health is also a frequent flyer). As for deflategate, I have a post about cheating in a broader sense currently brewing.

Yes, football is just a sport. It has its share of controversy and sh*tty people.

But it also has given me many lovely afternoons on the couch with my husband, where we celebrate every touchdown with a kiss. It has provided many hours at the local sports bar where we engage in banter with all of the fans, regardless of team. It’s helped me de-stress from rough days at work, wringing out the tension and emotion as I follow the plays.

And now I have something to wear when we have team spirit day at school:)

And Tiger has something to wear too!