I have come to accept the fact that while the fall brings a welcome relief to my constantly sweating scalp (gross, I know, and equally annoying), it also brings me to my widowhood. I used to say that I became a “deer widow” on October 1st- the first day of bow season. I could pretty much count on spending the weekend alone from October to February. Luckily for Ryan, I can be bought, so as long as I got mall money everytime he left, I was a wonderful contributor to America’s economy. When I had the baby, he definetly recognized that he couldn’t be gone every weekend and I was very grateful for it. I also realized that hunting for him is like hunting for me, only he is hunting animals and I am hunting bargains in the back of The Gap. We all need time for ourselves, so over the years of our marriage I have made an effort to keep the whining about abandoment to a minimum.
I’ll never understand the appeal of spending a ton of money for a deer lease, plus a ton of money for ammo, gas, meat processing, and antler mounting just for the pleasure of sitting in a tree in the Oklahoma wind, with nary an ipod for company, staring across a field for one shot at a poor little animal just trying to eat. However, I always get a Coach purse and shopping money out of the deal so I keep my mouth shut.
All that to say that while I enjoy getting to shop and go to Tulsa for the weekend a lot in the fall, I don’t enjoy being away from Ryan so much. Much as we rag on each other, we are pals and like being with each other. So my new form of widowhood is much more enjoyable, albeit deviod of trips to the mall and that matching Coach wallet. You know what I’m talking about ladies, and that would be the Fantasy Football widow.
This long-suffering soul routinely gives up the flat screen TV (hey! I wanted to watch my DVR’d episodes of Jon and Kate Plus 8!) AND the computer for the sake of watching games and checking stats online. She outwardly sighs about all of the football but secretly hopes that ESPN would show one more shot of Brett Favre. She makes dip and sets out chips and catches up on her reading as her husband whoops in delight, teaches the baby about running backs and posts trash talk on the message board.
The thing I like about FF is that Ryan is relaxing and having fun, and he is doing it at home. I roll my eyes sometimes about the obsession, but the truth is that I enjoy our lazy fall Sundays, with football in the background and time together in the foreground. I asked if I could join his league this year, and he laughed at me.
Guess he’s scared I’ll whoop him with all my secret knowledge