In all honestly, I very nearly forgot to write tonight. I was so busy having all of my hopes dashed, I didn't pay attention to the clock. The first football game of our season is over, and already I'm having flashbacks to the last few hard years of shame. As I said of the Hello Kitty brouhaha this week, I am no fair weather fan. I will love my Buffaloes in sickness and in health, in good times and bad. But I do still have that hypercompetitive woman inside of me who would like to watch games when we win, especially when it is the Rocky Mountain Showdown, the in-state rivalry between the two big public universities, CU and CSU. My man wrote me when it was over, and said that both teams played a good half, CU the first and CSU the second. That has been the story of the last few years. I want to hope, but I feel pretty foolish doing it sometimes. I guess it's time to take off the school-logo-emblazoned t-shirt and infinity scarf. But I'll be putting them back on next Saturday. And the foolish hope will be back, running through my heart like a 1300 pound female bison stampeding down a football field.
Now that football season is in full swing, I can believe that autumn is right around the corner. I have been desperate for it to arrive. This has been one of the worst summers, on every level, I have ever endured. But its days are numbered, and I'm building up a head of steam to get out and put it to rest in the Park. Brown leaves have been falling on the deck for a couple weeks now, and what was left of my vegetable garden has nearly completely died off. It's time to rip out dead stalks and consolidate what's left to just a few pots. I haven't decided whether to buy mums, to prolong the pain. I surprised myself by watering out front, but the deck plants are still unloved and limp. I may dig up a few of the herbs I like best, and bring them inside, so I can have things like lemon verbena and marjoram a bit longer. The only problem is there is not a single really sunny window in this entire house. The windows that would have given me good light are blocked by large trees or the porch overhang. My options aren't all that promising.
The last decade of being a Colorado fan should have left me numb to these feelings of disappointment. But, alas, here I am, depressed and quiet. Hopefully next week I will be physically improved, because I learned that watching a game on television that makes me clench and squirm in my seat is really stupid to do when I am suffering from an intestinal infection. Or, maybe the Buffs could just win a few games, so I get less twisted up inside. A foolish hope never dies.
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