Football Saturday.
Bernie promised to heat up his smoker-grill and make ribs. I promised to make fried rice.
And while we waited for those feasties to be done, we watched football.
The New Orleans Saints were chewed up by the Seattle Seahawks, much to the surprise of everyone.
The family snarfed food then, exquisite ribs, beans, and "spanish rice" as the second game started.
Peyton Manning played as though it was his job to be a quarterback and nothing else. It wasn't enough. The Colts lost to the New York Jets by ONE POINT. I really wanted the Colts to win ... but then, I really wanted my darling Sanchez to succeed.
Lillian's first doll (I don't know what gender it was when she received it) was a structure of plastic head, arms, and legs, with a cloth body. Within minutes of receiving it, the clothing was gone, leaving a unisex "mannikin." Lillian, about aged two, named it "Sanchez" -- for reasons none of us adults could ascertain.
Sanchez disappeared years ago, in a room-clearing pogrom.
And then he reappeared, playing for Philadelphia.
How can I not love him, and how could I root against him for the Colts?
My grand-daughter's doll has once again proven he is one hell of a quarterback.
Go, Sanchez, go!
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