Easy Chicken Chili Time
New Year's Day looms. Ah, the annual parades. The glut of bowl games. The feast of football. Pigskin is king. Tight ends are tightening. Quarterbacks are quarterbacking. And kickers are praying to the football gods they won't be called in for a chip-shot, with 6 seconds to spare in the final quarter. Do I sound like I know what I am talking about" I don't. I just overheard some manly sporty banter over gluten-free tuna melts. To which I smiled politely.
And reached for a pickle.
Even after watching every episode of Friday Night Lights, I still don't understand a down. Football is a mystery. Back fields in motion. Penalties! Off sides. Snap. Blitz. Gotta love the lingo. It's a language alluringly foreign to me. Like math.
Or for some, perhaps it's akin to say... abstract expressionism.
Visual chaos executed in angles and arcs and bursts of focus, drive and energy.
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