Root...Root...Root for the Home Team
A relative has begun signing her emails "Go Yankees". Conversation at the Happy Ladies Club luncheon today dwelled on Oregon's resurgent football team. Gardeners were meeting for an early dinner and a UofA volleyball game last week. I am bereft. I have no team for which to cheer. I need a home team. I love Peyton Manning, and the Little Cuter has outfitted me with a commemorative shirt but I've never lived in Indianapolis so the Colts can't possibly be my home team. The Cowboys may have been America's Team, but now, I think, the New Orleans Saints have earned that moniker. They are marvelously undefeated and totally fun to watch and it feels good to be able to share successful vibes with The Big Easy, but, again, they're not my home team. Orb Kcrob never wears anything but Michigan t-shirts. It's where he went and he's damn proud of it. I find myself in collegiate gear from TBG and the Cuters and myself but I can't seem to ma...