Because I am neither a Kansas City Chiefs fan or a Philadelphia Eagles fan, I have decided to put a little effort into the food today.

No, I am not having a party.  Daughter Nancy is stopping by to hang out for a while and I really, really hope she is hungry because I feel like cooking.

Correction:  I feel like cooking weird food.

These “L’il Smokies” are wrapped in bacon and will be topped with a combo of melted butter and brown sugar, then baked. Ridiculous. I made them once in Austin and son Ben declared they were delicious but I should never make them again. The guy who never eats vegetables had a health-conscious opinion?

Go figure.

So don’t ask why I am serving them today. I don’t know.

Then there is a recipe I saw on the internet. It required three ingredients: a bag of frozen meatballs, a can of pineapple and a bottle of bbq sauce. Dump everything in the crock pot, stir and cook on low or high, depending on when you want to eat.

I can’t remember when I last bought frozen meatballs. Maybe sometime in the 90’s. The weirdness of this recipe appealed to me, so on our last phone call I ran it past my grandson (we like to discuss future meals for the summer) and he thought it sounded good, but without the pineapple.

We’ll see.

And then I did this:

I bought dough. And I am going to make my own pizzas this afternoon. Picking up pizza–as good as it is–at the local Italian place seemed like a hassle, especially on Super Bowl Sunday. And I really didn’t feel like going out.

Who is going to eat all of this? The three of us. This is not the winter to entertain.

I will root for Patrick Mahones. I will pretend I’m having a party. And I’ll go to bed at halftime.

How about you?