Here comes the bride

We won! We won! The Indianapolis Colts beat the New England Patriots in the AFC championship game, after mounting a record conference game comeback, and are going to the Super Bowl! Woo hoo!!! (I apologize for my gross overuse of the exclamation point. I can’t help myself. Sorry!!!!!!!!!)

I know this is old news by now, and I would’ve posted about it yesterday when it was more exciting, but I was catching up on the sleep I missed by staying up until 5am to watch the Colts v Pats game on Sunday night. The game actually finished at about 3.15am London time, but I had to call my parents and my sister for celebration conversations, post a “yeaaaah BAY-BEE” message on my expats forum, and then clear up the coffee and chocolate that had sustained us as we tried to keep our eyes open during the miserable first half when we were playing like shit and getting beat down.

After two cups of el cafe and a jubilant pajama dance in the living room complete with jumping-up-and-down-hugging, I was wired and couldn’t fall asleep until just after 4am. The Noble Child chose the exact moment at which I was slipping blissfully into unconsciousness to wake up and cry until I dragged myself down the hall to her room and held her, with my head drooping like one of those nodding dogs, until she was satisfied that I was *completely* exhausted and dismissed me. That kid is ruthless. So it was 5am when I actually fell asleep and 8am when I was up for the day. It didn’t affect me too much, thankfully, I was too wired to care, still excited and rosy-cheeked from the previous night’s events. Sort of like when you lose your virginity. But minus the blood-stained panties. Eww.

And so now, my Colts, my precious, fierce, brave-hearted Colts, are now the bride, no longer the bridesmaid. I don’t even care that much if they win the Super Bowl, I am just relieved and ecstatic that they made it. Manning is such a great QB and he deserves to at least go to The Big Game. Of course, it will be super-sweet if they do, but I’m so dang mad that I’m not in Indianapolis for this that it almost hurts to imagine the celebrations at my old haunts. What I would give to watch it on the big screen at my old stomping ground, Rock Bottom, with my close-knit family (i.e. patrons of the bar that day) of sports fanatics and drunks. Sigh.

As it is, I’ll be watching the Super Bowl by myself, in the middle of the night again, and with no one to hide behind when it’s going bad or claw excitedly when it’s all going right. The hubs will be on a business trip and not many people in England are interested in American football enough to stay up all night on a work day. To add insult to injury, the next day is our 7th wedding anniversary so I’ll be alone for that too. Bah.

Any Londoners who want to crash my pad and watch the game with me (I’ve got a mini bar! And snacks!) are more than welcome. If the Colts win you may even get a big ol’ kiss. You have been warned.