Happy Thanksgiving!

Today was Thanksgiving, even though it didn't really feel like it.

I spent the day at work, because apparently England doesn't have anything to be thankful for. I would have much preferred to have spent it surrounded by family members while I ate myself into a food coma, like a true American. But alas.

I settled for this.

Did anyone else spend their Turkey Day at an Irish pub?

Not your traditional Thanksgiving meal, but at least it was tasty and shared with friends. Plus, I still have Saturday to look forward to, when we'll celebrate properly.

Happiest of Thanksgivings to you and yours.

Wednesday randoms.

Well, I’m back in England, where there is significantly less sunshine. Here are a few Wednesday randoms:

 

The highs here have been around 45 (7ish degrees C), and I’ve been wearing tights and scarves for about two months now. But when I got off the plane in Dallas, there was sunshine galore, and at 85 degrees (30ish degrees C) I instantly realized I was wearing too many clothes for Texas.  

 

The UK changes their clocks back a week earlier than the US. And since I was in the US a week after the time changed, I got to fall back twice this year. Which is fine with me – I can use all the extra time/sleep I can get.

 

With the time change, the sun sets earlier these days. Pretty standard, right? Except here, because we’re so far north, that means that by 4:30pm, the sun is gone. It’s really sad having so little daylight.

I missed out on being in the States for the presidential election by one day. Not that I was particularly heartbroken by this (I’d already voted absentee). Watching even an hour of election coverage at the airport was enough to make me want to run away from all things political.

 

You know how we say “what’s-her-name” when we can’t remember a name? Well here, a lot of people just say “thingy.” As in, “I was just talking to thingy.” It’s not my favorite bit of terminology.

 

Great news! I went to Asda the other day in search of tea, and guess what I found. Cocoa. HERSHEY’S cocoa. I haven’t seen it anywhere else in this country, so that made my day.

  

Silver lining.

Mondays come much too quickly after Sundays. I think we should get at least two Sundays before Monday springs on us with its silly requirements like waking up early and actually getting dressed.

On this particular Monday, I'm hungry and sniffly and my throat is tickly and it's grey and foggy and I broke a nail this morning and my computer keeps asking me if I want to restart to install updates and I don't want to and I've still got to be at work for another 4 hours.

But. BUT.

I'm headed back to 'Merica in a week from Thursday.

Silver lining.
 

Countdown to kickoff.

I just clicked onto the Baylor website and saw this: 

I then proceeded to freak out.

That's right, friends! College football kicks off this weekend.

I can't really explain what it is about college football that makes my heart skip a beat. And trust me, I've tried -- especially since moving to London. No one here gets it. No one. This is probably for two main reasons:

1.  It's American football. Not many people follow it. Even fewer understand it. And if you tell anyone you enjoy it, you'll probably hear some form of the phrase, "It's not real football." Except it is, England. And I love it.

2.  There's no such thing as college sports over here. Universities don't really have competitive sports. They might think they do, but really they're about as exciting as watching B team sorority girls slug it out on the intramural field. It's nothing like what we're used to.

(God bless America.)

So that means that while my Facebook and Twitter feeds are buzzing about the games that'll be played this weekend, I'll be holed up in my room, looking up last season's highlights or watching Remember The Titans by myself -- mostly just trying not to bore my housemates with football talk.

It's fine. This isn't my first football season in London.

Last year, I survived almost entirely thanks to ESPN text updates. But it was painful, and I'm not sure it will suffice this year. After all, a girl cannot live on highlights alone. I'm determined to find some website (however shady) that streams the games. Granted, a 6pm kickoff in Texas means I'll be tuning in around midnight, but it's totally worth it.

Especially if it's to watch my Bears.

Happy college football season! May your favorite team win. Unless they're playing against mine.

(Go Baylor.)

  

We win.

Just a quick shout out to my homeland. Congratulations, America! You won the Olympics! 

China was making me nervous there for a bit, but you pulled through.

Go team go.

Wednesday randoms (that have to do with London 2012).

As it's Wednesday, I've decided to briefly tear myself away from the BBC Olympics website (it's where I've been spending most of my free time lately) to post a couple of randoms.

Oh, Ryan Lochte. You're a great swimmer, which is why we can forgive you for this. But next time, let's leave the attempts at stringing words together to form coherent sentences to someone else, okay big guy? It's just better for everyone.

Olympic memes are taking over the Internet right now. But my two favs so far are McKayla is not impressed and One is not amused.

Brilliant idea: Since there's really no way for us non-Olympians to wrap our minds around just how incredible these athletes are when they're competing against other incredible athletes, they should have a regular person participating in each event. That way, we can better understand just how much stronger, faster, and more talented these people really are compared to the rest of us. Even some kind of a "normal human" marker (similar to the world record lines that they show during the coverage of swimming or track and field events) would do. That'd give us some perspective.

Speaking of track and field, if you ask someone about that here, you'll just get blank stares. Here, it's called the athletics. Which is kind of confusing, because I was under the impression that, this being the Olympics and all, pretty much every event was athletic...

Meet Boris Johnson, the mayor of London. He's a legend. The other day, he got stuck on a zip line in Victoria Park. He also did this once.

I got this in the mail yesterday, which means I'm finally able to cheer on my 'Mericans properly.

Ask any American to sing you the Olympics theme song, and they'll give you their own rendition of this. But did you know that it isn't associated with the Olympics anywhere else but the US? Because they don't play it during their coverage here, and hardly anyone I know has heard of it. Crazy.

Anyway, that's all for me. Happy Olympics!

Footballs.

Thanks to a friend's brother visiting for the Olympics, my building has recently become the home of what I'm convinced is the only American football in London.

You may remember me mentioning that we recently went on a mission to find one, but despite the four floors of sports equipment, Sports Direct let us down. (Everyone kept telling us to just use a rugby ball, but there's no way that would work, as not only are there substantial differences in their shapes, but also let's be honest...I need the laces to know how I'm supposed to hold it.) So I was really excited when I found out one had been brought from home.

We rallied a group of people to go play, bringing with us both kinds of footballs. After a quick warmup with the European version, we busted out the pigskin, and held a mini-tutorial on how to throw it. At first, my sloppy spiral (more of a wobble, really) was looking pretty good compared to the other guys' attempts. Sure, they'd never so much as held an American football, but is that really relevant?

Anyway, they caught on really quickly, and soon we were playing with both footballs simultaneously. The best moments were when someone received a pass from one person at the same time that another person started another pass. You didn't have enough time to think about it, so the frantic attempts to catch/stop/duck all at once were pretty hilarious.

And one of the guys made an interesting observation. Whenever an American football came flying at a European who wasn't feeling confident about catching it, he'd try to stop it with his foot instead of his hands. On the flip side, when a European football hurtled toward an American, we typically stuck out our hands to knock it away. It was pretty interesting. Plus, it was a lot of fun.

Oh football(s). How I love you.

I haven't been sick, I've been ill. (And why that distinction matters.)

I've got a cold.

This is pretty unusual, as my immune system is typically pretty rockin. (Thanks for sending me to preschool and exposing me to germs at a young age, mom!) But alas, it's failed me this week.

"I'm sniffling and I’m not really awake…and I'm taking Echinacea and vitamin C, and sleeping practically twenty-four hours a day.

And I have a temperature. And I think I’m contagious..."

Which brings me to an important point: Here in the UK, there's a difference between "sick" and "ill."

Back home, they're pretty much interchangeable. Actually, I'd say we use the term "sick" more often than "ill." It doesn't matter if you had the flu, bronchitis, or a sinus infection. When someone asks why you missed work or practice or that birthday party, you respond with, "I was sick."

But you don't want to to do that here. Because here, to be sick means to throw up. So if you say you were sick yesterday, people will interpret that as something a little more dramatic than just a case of the sniffles. What you want to say is "ill." 

So don't worry, the past few days I haven't been sick. I've just been ill.

But I'm making the most of it. Since I don't exactly feel like going anywhere at the moment, I've gotten some writing done, watched a couple of feel good movies, and have busted out my crayons and gotten my craft on (one of the perks of working with kids).

Plus, I'm pretty sure I've perfected the art of shooting crumpled tissues from my bed to the bin.

Silver lining.

 

Drinking ages and driver's licenses.

As you may know, the legal drinking age in the States is 21, but you've still got to bring your ID with you if you want to purchase alcohol...even decades later. For example:

But here in the UK, not only is the drinking age lower (18), but if you're trying to buy alcohol, they also only require you to show an ID if you look under 25.

Which is probably why my sweet flatmate (someday you'll appreciate your youthful looks, m'dear!) gets really excited when she doesn't get carded.

Now, I don't really drink. But I do cook. And I've got quite a few recipes that require wine and whatnot. So the other day, when I wanted to make some pasta, I popped over to Tesco to grab some white wine. A friend of mine was with me, so we both got carded. 

We're both 24, which is well over the legal age, so it shouldn't be a problem, right? Well...

See, both of us are from the States. So both of us used our driver's licenses as ID. I was expecting this to throw them off. Last time I had to show my ID, the lady spent a loooooong time staring at it, before pointing at the issue date with a puzzled expression. No, love. 2008 is the year I got the license, not the year I was born. That'd make me 4 years old.

Anyway, she went first, and showed the lady her Arkansas license. After taking off her glasses to look more like the picture of herself, it was deemed acceptable. Then it was my turn. I gave her my New Mexico license, and could tell right away that this was going to be a problem.

"They're different..." she said suspiciously. 

"Yes, I'm from a different state," I said. And my friend tried to help out, chiming in with, "Every state has a different license."

The woman shook her head. So I offered to show her my bank card, since it had my name on it too. She took it and looked at it. "Do you have anything else?" 

"Uhhhh...." I fumbled for my university ID, which not only had my name, but also my picture.

She sat there for a few minutes, comparing the three cards, and throwing me sideways glances, before she finally gave in. And we got our white wine.

Whew.

And just as an aside: If I were an underage drinker trying to fool someone into letting me buy alcohol, so I could party it up and get wasted (or whatever those crazy kids do these days), I don't think I'd be buying a single bottle of dry white wine.

But that's just me.

 

Happy America Day!

Happy birthday, America. I'm bummed that the thousands of miles in between us this 4th of July will mean that I won't get to see any fireworks. But don't worry. I'm still celebrating you.

Here's how:

And a fellow American here in London is having a little Independence Day bash.
So that's fun.

Happy 4th of July! And if you happen to be celebrating in the States, light a sparkler for me.

(Please and thank you.)

Omigod You Guys.

A big congratulations to my favorite newly engaged couple, Shannon and Dakota! I've been waiting for this for a few months now, and by the time this week rolled around, Kim and I were practically counting down the hours.

"They're just like that couple from Titanic! Only no one dies...

I can't even begin to tell you how many engaged and/or recently married friends I have in my life right now. It's crazy. And I'm finding that it's the exact opposite of the culture here. When I mention a friend's recent engagement, I'm typically met with the question, "How old is she?" which is quickly followed by, "How long have they been together?" No one here can believe that I have so many friends married just out of college.

At home, it's super common. We joke at Baylor about "ring by spring," and MRS degrees all the time. And since pretty much the only time relationship statuses are announced to the world is when there's a ring involved, it can be easy to think that you're the only one who's not headed down the aisle any time soon. Which is so not true. It's just that you never see someone posting, "Guys, guess what! I'm single!" on Facebook. So my friends and I have started letting each other know, "Don't worry, I'm still not engaged," every few weeks just to remind one another that we're fine, normal, etc.

But here? It seems like no one even thinks about marriage till they're like 30. Which is totally fine and completely understandable and all that. It's just a bit different where I come from.

Anywho, another shout out and big hug to my sweet sweet friends. You two make an amazing couple, and I'm so excited for you!

Vocab lesson.

Here are a few vocabulary tips you may find helpful, should you visit the UK: 

---------------

No one here says "oriented." Instead, everyone says, "orientated." As in, "That young man is very goal-orientated." It throws me off every time.

Squash isn't a gourd-type food. It's a flavo(u)red liquid you put in your water. The most popular flavo(u)r? Blackcurrant. What even is that?

This is squash...

Holiday-wear isn't Christmassy. It's swimsuits (called swimming costumes here) and other beach attire. Because here, you don't go "on vacation." You go "on holiday."

If you're looking for an eggplant, don't ask for an eggplant. Ask for an aubergine. And if you want a zucchini, you'll need to ask for a courgette. 

If a guy tells you he's wearing a dressing gown, it's not what you think. It's just a bathrobe. 

When the sign says "dual carriageway," don't expect any horses or buggies. You'll be disappointed. It's referring to a divided highway. 

If you want some jelly for your toast, you might get some funny looks. What you really want is jam. Jelly is Jello. Which would make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich a much more interesting concept...

"J-E-L-L....Y? It's alive."

A public footpath isn't a nature trail, or even the scenic route. It's a plain old sidewalk.

Talking about "bangs" will probably get you laughed at. Here, they call it "fringe."
 
A mouthguard? Not here. It's a gumshield. 

When abbreviating the term "mathematics," it's not "math." It's "maths." Don't forget that 's'!

Looking for scotch tape? You mean is cellotape, as it's known here.
  
---------------

So there you have it. May you benefit from my knowledge...and be spared from the confused looks that I still face every time I open my mouth.
  

Texas Independence Day.

I lived in Texas for four years. It changed me. For one thing, I started saying, "y'all."

Texas was its own country before it was part of the US. And Texas has never forgotten this. Actually, sometimes it seems that Texas still thinks it's its own country. So, today, when my Facebook newsfeed was overwhelmed with things like "Proud to be a Texan," and "God bless Texas," it got me thinking about my home away from home.

The Republic of Texas

Most people -- even outside the States -- have some general ideas about Texas. Cowboy hats, boots, horses, guns...and everything's bigger in Texas, right?

But Texas is hard to define. Because Texas isn't just a place, it's an mindset -- a worldview. And Texans? Well, let's just say they really love their state.

So in honor of Texas Independence Day, here are a few quotes that might help you understand a bit more about the largest of our Lower 48.

---------------------------

You may all go to hell, and I will go to Texas. -Davy Crockett 

There is a growing feeling that perhaps Texas is really another country, a place where the skies, the disasters, the diamonds, the politicians, the women, the fortunes, the football players and the murders are all bigger than anywhere else. -Pete Hamill 

 Sectional football games have the glory and the despair of war, and when a Texas team takes the field against a foreign state, it is an army with banners. -John Steinbeck

Texas is neither southern nor western. Texas is Texas. -Senator William Blakley

Texas is a state of mind. Texas is an obsession. Above all, Texas is a nation in every sense of the word...A Texan outside of Texas is a foreigner. -John Steinbeck

If a man’s from Texas, he’ll tell you. If he’s not, why embarrass him by asking? -journalist John Gunther

Don't mess with Texas.

I'm not from Texas, but I got here as fast as I could.

---------------------------

Bluebonnets - The state flower.

There are a lot of things I miss about Texas. The explosion of wildflowers in the spring (especially those bluebonnets), Baylor, pick up trucks, sweet tea, big backyards, Pine Cove, long open roads, stars, biscuits and gravy, cliff jumping, porch swings, sunsets, yes sirs and yes ma'ams, barbeque, and BlueBell ice cream...just to name a few.

Mostly, I miss the people. I met my absolute best friends in Texas. And there's just a general friendliness about the state. Sure, there's plenty of arrogance and way too much camouflage, but for the most part, the people are lovely. I miss the polite hellos from passersby (people here tend to avoid eye contact altogether), hats tipped in greeting, and smiles all around. And I'm so glad that when I got a flat tire in the middle of nowhere, it was the middle of nowhere, Texas. Three different people pulled over to make sure I was okay and help me get back on the road again.

So even though I'm from New Mexico (where Texas isn't exactly a favorite), I don't own a pair of boots, and I'll never ever cheer for the Dallas Cowboys as long as I live, I can proudly say that I love the Lone Star State.

Happy Independence Day, Texas. You were good to me.

 

Flapjacks.

Quiz time. If you're from America, when you hear the word "flapjacks," what comes to mind?

Perhaps something like this:

Thanks, Google.

Because to you, the term is basically synonymous with "pancakes," right? Thought so.

But not here. 

No, here, flapjacks are bars made from butter, sugar, honey and oats. 

They're kind of like a mix between no-bake cookies and granola bars. And they look like this:

Weird, huh? So just a heads up that if you request flapjacks, you shouldn't expect to get pancakes. 

And actually, even if you ask for pancakes, you shouldn't expect to get pancakes. 

Because if you ask for pancakes, this is what you'll get:

Again, thanks Google.

Yeah, that's right. Crepes. 

Whatever.

   

Geographical stereotypes.

Something I've learned about the UK is that there are major geographical stereotypes here. It's crazy that, in such a small country, there can be such a well-known and distinct personality for every region. And the accents vary widely, as well. My flatmate is from up north, and since London is in the south, people comment on it all the time - "You're so northern!" 

I mean, we have that in the States too. 

I'm mostly "Mexico-ish", with a side of "Yes sir and yes ma'am" and a pinch of "Chicago and grass."

But what's weird is that even though the Americans in our building come from very different regions of the country -- California, Michigan, Virginia, New Mexico -- none of us have very identifiable accents (okay, so maybe one does), and we all have pretty similar personalities. In fact, people comment on our similar accents all the time. To which you might reply "Oh, they just think all Americans sound the same," and while that is probably extremely true (ask any Brit to do an American accent, and they'll usually say "cwa-fee"), we really don't notice much of a difference in our accents either. 

And yet, I swear that just about every single British accent in our whole building is noticeably different from the others. It's strange. I guess you'd expect that with the thousands of miles between, say New Mexico and Virginia, Lisa and I might at least sound a little different. Especially when you consider that the entire UK is just under 95,000 square miles, while the square mileage of New Mexico alone is almost 121,500.

How'd they get so many stereotypes in such a small space? Crazy.

 

Exactly the same. But different.

Last night, I had a debate discussion with a friend about these things called Polos. Apparently they're the same as those white mint LifeSavers. Which got me thinking about how many products here are different (in that they're called something else), but are actually exactly the same.

For example:

Sorry that 75% of these examples are cereal. We eat a lot of it here in Flat 1.

But isn't that strange? Instead of Honey Nut Cheerios, Raisin Bran, Lays and Frosted Flakes, they have Honey Loops, Sultana Bran, Walkers and Frosties. But let's talk about laziness for a second. Because if you're gonna change the name, at least come up with a new look.

And then there's this:

You might be thinking to yourself, "Self, they call them Oreos over here too." And you'd be right. But look at the description. Yes, there's an unnecessary 'u' in flavored, but keep reading. "Biscuits."

Now, this is a completely different beast, because biscuits here are not the same as in the States. We've had this argument many times over. Apparently, the only cookie that's a "cookie" and not a "biscuit" is a chocolate chip cookie. Why? I have no idea. And when I tried to explain that our biscuits are different, they asked if I meant scones. No no. I meant biscuits.

Another American referred to KFC as an example, because they have KFC here. But that didn't work, because apparently they don't serve biscuits at KFC. Instead, they serve fries chips alongside their mashed potatoes.

What? Mashed potatoes with more potatoes? No, my dears.

You need a big fluffy buttery biscuit.

This isn't The Holiday, I'm not Cameron Diaz, and I'm not in love.

We watched The Holiday a couple of weeks after I got here. In case you've forgotten, that's the one where Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet trade houses for Christmas. In the film, the American (Diaz) falls in love with a Brit (Jude Law), who literally shows up on her doorstep right after she arrives in England. The girls and I laughed about how it should give me great hope for romance here in the UK, as I'm kind of in a similar situation.  

It only took like a day for them to fall in love in the film. Yet, here I am almost 3 months later, and Jude Law has yet to knock on my door. In fact, I haven’t met anyone I’m interested in. Granted, I don't have movie star looks, and that's a chick flick (aka, completely unrealistic), so I suppose I shouldn't have such high expectations. 

But the other night, Sheila (our romance resident expert--the girl's got men lining queuing up to get a chance to go out with her) figured out what was wrong. She was looking through a lot of my pictures and pointed out that the vast majority of the guys I hang out with at home are quite attractive, which is bound to have had some sort of influence on my tastes. I think her exact words were, "Oh my days. All these guys are really fit! No wonder you haven't found anybody here. You're used to a whole different standard!"  

Now, part of the issue is that I'm not Sheila. I'm not (and this is Sheila's term) "a lioness" in that I don't "go hunting" for men. Like, not ever. I doubt I'll ever be that girl. And I'm perfectly fine with that.

But I still liked her theory. And even though it implies extreme shallowness on my part, I plan to use it as my excuse from now on. Because people do ask...all the time. And because it's more fun than, "Oh I just haven't found anyone I'm particularly interested in...not sure why. Maybe because I'm not really looking?"

So this is a shout out to all my Baylor/Pine Cove guy friends. You're the ones featured most prominently in these pictures, so clearly it's all your fault. Thanks for being so attractive that you've ruined me for all these British blokes.  

It makes it much easier to concentrate on my studies.
  

  

Soul friends.

Aristotle believed that there are three types of friends: those of utility, pleasure and virtue. A friendship of utility is one that is beneficial to each party. A friendship of pleasure is typically based on things like similar hobbies or senses of humor. Then there's the virtuous friendship. This friend is the one who sticks around long after spending time with you ceases to be beneficial and/or pleasurable.

I like to call this a "soul friend."

A soul friend knows way too much about you, but loves you anyway. They've seen you at your best and your worst; laughed with you and cried with you. They're the ones who help you make major life decisions, remind you that your ex was horrible and you're better off without him, come up with the best inside jokes and tell you when that dress actually does make you look fat. Together, you sing off key in the car (or in public), eat whole pints of ice cream, go for coffee and long walks, dance around your apartment and generally feel like rock stars. Your relationship is messy, honest, tried and true, and often incredibly rare. You're lucky to have even one soul friend in your life.

I have three.

We became close in the summer of 2008, when we worked together. And for some reason, we stuck. Now, three and a half years later (time flies!) they're still my best friends, despite the several thousands of miles between us.

(Not drawn to scale...clearly. The UK should probably be about half that size.)

But hey, that's what Skype is for, right? And since this weekend is Homecoming at Baylor, they're all headed back to Texas. So even though I don't get to be there with them, I still get to see them all at once! Best day ever.

How about you call up your soul friends today and tell them how wonderful they are?

You know, just because it's Friday.

Wednesday randoms.

Some musings:

I've noticed my web ads are starting to change. They still look the exact same, but instead of promising to help me "lose 20 lbs," I've now got the opportunity to "lose 4 stone."

Same product, better results. Thanks, UK.

No one here eats candy corn. And people legitimately asked me if it tastes like corn.

I don't notice accents as much as I used to. At least not the ones belonging to the people I spend most of my time with. It used to be that I'd kind of stop listening to what was being said because I'd be focusing on how it was being said. But not so much anymore.

I've started picking up phrases (especially "I can't be bothered"). I really want to be able to say "cheers" but I don't think I could pull it off. Maybe if I said "cheers, y'all," instead.

Today I bought tickets for a postgrad boat party. And so did half my hall. We're pretty much gonna own that event.

It's funny learning about American culture from British people. The other day I admitted to a friend that I'd never seen Sex In the City, and she said, "But you're American!" and promised to bring me the box set. The same sort of thing has happened with Jersey Shore.

Speaking of Jersey Shore, there are several versions of that here, including The Only Way Is Essex and Geordie Shore. Why anyone would want another show like that is beyond me.

And I was asked to explain Glenn Beck to my political communication class. That was fun.

It must be love.

There are things I know I'll miss next year. Things like my friends, my family and driving on the right (read: correct) side of the road. But I was recently reminded of something else. A something else that is very near to my heart. College football. And my oh my, what a great reminder it was.

I hope, for your sake, that you didn't miss the Baylor v. TCU game last night. Actually, if you're television-owning American and you're alive, I'm not sure you could have. And for good reason. Not only was it the only game on, it was stellar. A great game. High-energy, high-scoring (albeit often low-defending), and so fun to watch. Plus, Baylor won, and Lord knows I love my Bears.

            (Which is why I don't mind how blatantly one-sided this highlight reel is.)

Did it give me a heart attack? Well, sure. More than once. Did I yell at the television? Until I was hoarse. Was I really, really sad I wasn't in Waco to see it live? Duh.

                                                         (I can get a little excited.)

But I loved every minute of it. (Except for the majority of that ugly, ugly fourth quarter, but whatevs. No harm done, right?)

Afterward, I realized something. There is no football in England. Well, there is, but it's soccer--totally different. Don't get me wrong, I love soccer. I played for years. But there's just something wonderful about college football--the American kind. There really is no substitute. I'm seriously going to miss it.

So I'd like to apologize in advance to my future roommates and soon-to-be friends from the UK for what is sure to be a rough couple of months for all of us.

I will undoubtedly try to talk football with you, despite the fact that you'll probably have neither context nor concern for it. I will most likely be shocked and saddened the first few weekends I turn on the TV and discover it's not on any of the channels. And, consequently, you will certainly find me in my room, door shut, staring at ESPN.com for hours upon end. But the good news, for you, is that this all will be for only a season. It, like so many other wonderful things in life, must eventually come to an end. So if you'll just be patient and put up with my craziness for a few months, I promise that I'll finally be normal again.

At least until college basketball gets underway.