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Close to Nowhere By Linda Jones New sports column •
There is a new sports person at The South Reporter. Me! I actually
watched a football game Sunday. You may have watched it also... it was
called the Super Bowl (I’ve forgotten the number though.) It was my first Super Bowl game, my first professional football game and probably my first televised football game. I
have been to several high school games, where either my granddaughters
were “little cheerleaders” or my nephews in Arkansas were playing in
junior high school. Pastor Doug and wife Brandi
Bell both laughed because I brought a book with me. I have to confess,
I finished that book (an actual “book”) and had to download, via
Amazon, another book to my iPhone. I wasn’t real
sure what was going on in the game and who was on what team. I asked a
friend who was sitting down the row from me, which team Eli was playing
on -- she didn’t know either. This is also the first time I’ve seen actual Super Bowl commercials to talk about at work on Monday morning! I liked all of them. I loved Quigley and Betty White! I
was somewhat ambivalent about the half-time show. I’m not a Madonna
fan, although I do like some of her music. I have always liked her song
“Like A Prayer.” “Just like a prayer, I’ll take you there... I hear you call my name and it feels like home...” But,
I didn’t really like the half-time show. Don’t really know why either.
Maybe there has just always been so much hype about the show that I
expected way more that what actually happened. At least, thank goodness, there were no wardrobe malfunctions! I
hate to admit this, but I left after halftime. My new book wasn’t
downloading right and I had eaten way too much of the really good food.
(I have discovered I do like tailgating!) So, to the disappointment of
my youngest granddaughter, who was having a blast, I went home and went
to bed. Yes, I am an old person! Maybe I don’t have it in me to be a sports reporter after all... •
My little black dog has discovered a new “sport.” She noticed the
chickens strolling around outside last week and has now become a
devoted “chicken-chaser.” Foxy chased chickens, I
chased Foxy and Sister chased me -- me trying to save the chickens,
Sister trying to keep me from killing myself. I’m pretty sure we made
quite a sight running through the mud, downhill. Foxy is now restricted to a leash permanently. Poor Tater was banished for eating the chickens...
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