Superbowl Sunday

And, its the beloved 4 hour television advertiser's dream . . . masses of Americans piled up on their couches, reclining in their chairs and propping up their feet--mesmerized by men hitting one another, flying pigskin, beer, loud yelling, whistles, shiny uniforms, big biceps, and of course, the clever, colorful, this-one-is-funnier-than-last-year commercials. I can't wait because it is tradition. Because it makes my man so happy to do nothing but stare at a square screen, eating salt and pepper Krinkle cut potato chips with ranch dressing. I will make pizza dough and for 4 hours we will be the quintessential young American couple--full of ourselves in doing what everyone else is doing.