by Karen Wilmot

Created on: January 24, 2009   Last Updated: January 28, 2009

Feeling kind of Sunday, Sunday; I'm feeling kind of Sunday, when this commercial came on back in August of 2008, I knew my football season had begun. My teams are the Minnesota Vikings and the Carolina Panthers. If the two meet during a regular season game, party is at Karen's house. My husband couldn't care less. He doesn't enjoy football or any professional sports really but we are a match made in heaven.

Sunday, September 7, 2008 and the regular season of America's best game begins. This is hallowed ground for the football fan. We don't care that it is 80 degrees and sunny in Minnesota, we are glued to our televisions flipping between ABC and FOX for all the highlights. I awake in the morning with a smile on my face because this could be the year to go the distance. This is destined to be the year of setting records, connecting on every pass and showing penalities the door. It dawns with hope and promise of training camp's success.

My husband enjoys the breakfast brunch I cook up in preparation of a day with Delholme, Jackson, Lebor and Peppers. I cook eggs, bacon, hash browns, pancakes, orange juice and coffee. We dine on the good china and use champagne glasses for our orange juice. After all it is a celebration to the start of all things great and glorious. I then leave the table, turn on the television and there I sit for the day. I flip between games from Noon until Midnight, all the while updating my facebook page with scores and chatting about the plays. There is a whole online community that discusses every minutia of the game from the calls to the scores. We yell, discuss, chat and share in victory with each other. Being a football fanatic has taken on a more silent role with the advent of social networking. However there are moments, my husband says, that all he hears are the click, click, click of my typing fingers and an occassional grunt.

I am lucky, my husband has found a myriad of other things to do on the first Sunday in football season. He normally will do the dishes after our brunch and then kiss me goodbye as he heads out the door. Some ask me if I know what he does, but I don't. There are some things I just don't care about and on this day, in the fall season, my husband is free as a bird. He usually will arrive back at the house around 6 pm with a pizza or something for dinner and share it with me. He is nothing short of generous. I will either be angry or crying at this point because one of my teams either won or lost. He will shake his

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