P365 Day 212: Real Good Lookin' Game

Paul left for his out-of-town meeting today. I dropped him off without incident. (In fact, I got to the airport in 20 minutes — not speeding. The roads were empty.) Then I came home and tried, with limited success, to catch a little more shuteye.

Paul called during his three-hour layover in Atlanta. Apparently, the hydraulics went out on engine 2 during the first leg of his trip — "I mean, they had back-ups," he assured me — so they were greeted on the tarmac by fire trucks. I'm glad it turned out OK. I'm still going to worry. I'm a worrier.

Also, I'm not one to leave the house much on my own, so when I did the grocery shopping for my four-day alone time, I picked up a six-pack of Abita Purple Haze — my favorite beer — as well as a sixer of New Belgium's winter ale, 2 Below:



Mom called a little while ago to check on me and on Paul's flight, and she asked if I had any plans for the next few days. "No, I'm probably not going anywhere," I said. "Taking care of the homefront," she replied. Phrase it however you want; it still comes down to cracking open a couple of beers and watching the Super Bowl in the company of my cats. (It's not like I don't have a chance to go out; I just don't really want to. If I decide to interact with real-life people, I can go to my apartment complex's watch party, but I doubt I'll feel like it.)

I think halftime with The Who gets its own beer. MTV has already reported The Who's setlist: "We're kinda doing a mash-up of stuff," (Pete Townshend) said. "A bit of 'Baba O'Riley,' a bit of 'Pinball Wizard,' a bit of the close of 'Tommy,' a bit of 'Who Are You,' and a bit of 'Won't Get Fooled Again.' "

So, unless they drop a huge bomb, it looks like they're not playing my favorite Who song — the song over which I bonded with my Rock Band buddies (including — here comes a blog plug! — Cheddar FonDrew). So at some point before halftime is over (now is good — do it now), I demand you all listen to The Who's best recent song.



Even when I'm home alone, that song generates warm-fuzzies.

Happy Super Bowl Sunday, folks. Geaux Saints!