Last weekend I felt like I knew what it was like to be a Jew on Christmas.
Running my errands at CostCo and Super Target, I was bombarded by exuberant people throwing far, far to much crap into their super-sized carts in pre-Super Bowl hysteria. I actually stood behind a gentleman for 8.7 minutes while he pondered whether or not to buy a large slab of pre-cooked corned beef. And yes, he bought it. Don't you wish you were at his SuperBowl party?!
(Side note: You might be asking yourself what could I possibly have been waiting for. And why wouldn't I cough loudly, or say, "Excuse Me," or gently nudge him out of the way? Both good questions. Firstly, I had spied 3 lonely packages of vacuum-sealed Jamon (a.k.a salted pig's leg), imported from Spain, and I had to have one. Secondly, the word is assimilate. You can ask me what that means later, if you want.)
Later, at Super Target, I was told by a woman in a silly paper hat at the deli counter that they had run out of turkey and ham. Seriously? How do you run out of turkey and ham? Oh. Right. The Super Bowl.
Finally, I made it home to enjoy a weekend of radio programs, Spanish tapas (the Jamon was delicioso), and a quick massage at the spa (a Christmas present from my wonderful husband).
And that's how I missed the best SuperBowl ever.
Coming soon: Caucus, my favorite word.