Super Hog

The big stories this weekend were Groundhog Day and the Super Bowl.  These events in the past have had me on the edge of my seat with excitement awaiting the individual outcomes with nervous anticipation.  This year I couldn't have cared less about either one.

For about 11 years, I suffered through seemingly endless northern Ohio winters with weeks where gray skies chased the sunshine away and sometimes months would go by without a single blade of grass to be seen, buried beneath feet of cold snow.  It was during those years I held out hope that Punxsutawney Phil would not see his shadow and winter would magically disappear and daffodils would miraculously bloom in mid-February like they do in the south.  But now I live where flowers (at least the hardier varieties) bloom all year and winter consists of a few pesky days below 40 degrees.  I no longer have to rely on a large rodent's post-hibernation outing's alignment with the sun to know when I can wear shorts and flip flops...I'm already wearing them.

And let's not forget while I used to find these furry little creatures somewhat cute and cuddly and the whole Groundhog Day an amusing bit of Americana, it was a groundhog hole that caused my broken ankle.  Let's just say I'm a little bitter and tend to hold a grudge.  Maybe if it had just been the broken ankle, it healed and everything was fine I could learn to forgive the groundhogs.  But that's not what happened and so Groundhog Day is just another reminder of what this condition/issue/disease or whatever it is has taken from me.  But hey, at least it's #2 of the list of 5 Crazy Diseases!

Then there's the Super Bowl.  I was so totally uninterested, I didn't even watch it for the commercials.  And I'm a football fan.  But once the Steelers were out and then the Falcons, well I'll just wait till fall.