They did it! The Saints won. I’m ridiculously happy, as you could probably guess. I watched the first half of the game in my Who Dat Nation sweatshirt and my signed Drew Brees cap and then at half-time, I panicked. The horror was brought on, no doubt, by The Who, but quickly escalated when I realized that I hadn’t worn either of those items during the pivotal game against the Vikings two weeks before. I tore them off as fast as possible to put on civilian clothes.
Thank God I did, because as soon as the second half started, the Saints began turning the game around. I only wish I had realized it sooner.
Other than the New Orleans victory and today being a snow day and all (Central Park photo proof below), it’s been a bit of an odd week. I’ve been uncharacteristically nostalgic. Even the most mundane things were making me wistful.
A few days ago, I misplaced a super-important document, which is kind of weird, because when it comes to super-important documents, I am generally well organized. I realized I may have misfiled it and so decided to go through two huge file containers to find out where. Usually I just shove documents into various folders, and rarely do I ever go back into them to pull anything out.
Because of that, I discovered I still had things like insurance policies from 10 years ago, instruction manuals for answering machines and other 20th Century contraptions and an absolutely bulging file of my dog’s medical records. He died two years ago.
Of course I had to go through and review every single one of his vet bills for the 12+ years I had him. And, wow, did he go to the vet often. But even weirder, I was getting misty-eyed about giardia and elevated liver enzymes.
I also found some past correspondence from my landlord. Just one of the many reasons I love New York.
The Saints weren’t the only thing that made me happy this week. I was officially thanked in the end credits of Shoot First and Pray You Live, a movie my friend Lance Doty wrote and directed. By officially thanked, I mean I saw my name on the big screen. The movie is an independent Spaghetti Western which transcends its shoestring budget. It’s engaging and funny and I’m not just saying that because my name looks so good large and projected. Here’s the song that plays over the end credits. If you close your eyes, I bet you can imagine the precise scroll. The song is by Dave Hill. His name is there too. Oh, and the actors and stuff.
Really, see it. Amazon, Netflix. And, watch the credits!