New England Patriots fans have had a rough Sunday and Monday.  The disappointment is palpable, I swear.

So…I did not spend Monday morning trying to find a New England Patriots Superbowl Champions t-shirt for my grandson, or hats for my sons.  Which was the bright side.

To be perfectly honest, I usually don’t care about the football game.  Every year we go to our friends Ruth and Kenny’s house to watch the game with their family and neighbors.  And every year Kenny makes hot dogs at halftime.  Every year I try to be polite and not elbow Kenny’s elderly parents away from the stove so I can get to the hot dogs first.

I talked Banjo Man out of trying out a new recipe (salmon bites) to bring to the party.  I think he was going to substitute herring and throw some other strange ingredients into the food processor (gives me the shivers just to think about it).  We brought a blueberry cake instead.

This year’s game was exciting and stressful and heartbreaking—and Banjo Man and I were cemented to the sofa watching every play.  Until just before the half, when it was time to check on Kenny’s progress with the dogs.

Kenny always has steamed rolls, chopped onions and relish.  Be still my heart.  Is there anything better?

Not at the Superbowl.  Not this year.