The Giants and the Pats in the big game. Flipper-armed, wobbly-legged Eli Manning plays while brother Peyton watches from the skybox in some sort of Bizarro Super Bowl. And yet I would rather cheer for the Taliban than the hated Patriots.
My fantasy team didn't do too great either, though I was predicted to do well and have never finished below third until this year. But Peyton's numbers weren't always the best for fantasy (my backup, Jon Kitna, had better!), Lavuernes Coles and Marvin Harrison had injuries, and my running back platoon of Edgerrin James, Warrick Dunn, Fred Taylor, and Julius Jones were hit and miss or all miss.
So I went to frost-blasted Michigan to escape the blues, and may have actually done so. Now this was a good place to eat, and we had some good wine here. And it is worth driving here, even on a sheet of ice.
It is early 2008, and the mind turns to new projects, in the meantime getting fed with books and movies and ideas. Until later, give me a yell at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.
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