Three Cheers for the Agitator!

I come from an NBA family.  Or rather, I come from a city of NBA-fame that demands fanfare from all it’s inhabitants.  So much so that as a young girl I used to hoist 6’ foot cardboard cutouts of Horace Grant, Scotty Pippen and BJ Armstrong on the balcony of my aunt’s suburban condo with my sister in tow holding signs that read, “Honk for a 3-Peat!”.  We did this gleefully for every playoff game.

But my sports fanaticism ended there.  Save watching some golf or tennis when I want to nap I don’t really dedicate my time to any one sport or team.  And I especially don’t make any attempt to watch football.

What’s so wrong with football you ask?  Well, nothing and everything.  Football has always seemed evasive to me.  Because I never feigned to understand the rules, the rules appear foolishly complex when I try to make sense of them.  The basics I get, but it seems there’s always some reason to stop the game, yet never stop the clock.  It’s maddening!

All told, however, people LOVE it.  My Northeast kinsmen especially so.  And considering my current city of residence’s team, the Boston Patriots, were Superbowl contenders, I thought I’d study up.Hiro patiently sat with me during a considerably important game and explained all the points of procedures.  I wasn’t impressed.  But then I heard some commentator claim that Superbowl Sunday was the secondmost holiday of exorbitant food consumption.  Second to Thanksgiving!  Now that I had a kitchen and a new home I thought I’d invite everyone over to watch the big game.

This is important to Hiro and I for many reasons but mostly to christen our new television.  We haven’t had a tv for a long time.  Also, we hadn’t had anyone over.  It seemed a great excuse in hosting!

Sometimes, though, we miscommunicate.  The radio host said people eat a lot, so I bought a lot of food.  Hiro and I both invited a lot of guests.  It seemed like everything was in order except that Hiro feared we would run out of food and chairs and slyly asked certain guests to bring their own.

Oh dear me, BYO Chair and Food?  Hiro!

So one-by-one our house filled up with generous offerings of chips and dips.  We had so much food.  Mountains of food!  It was my first time hosting such a large gathering and I toiled away in the kitchen pre-heating and re-heating and frying and doing whatever it is the recipe called for.  This is no big feat, but for me it was a lesson in pre-planning and appreciating past hosts who have so graciously received me. 

Either our guests loved the food or ate out of extreme agitation for the Patriots mishaps.  No matter, we all ended up having a great time!  Myself and other football fan-less friends gathered in the kitchen trying to one-up eachother’s innate football knowledge.  “Name a position!”  “Agitator!”  “Like Benedict Arnold!”  “More guacamole!”

It should be a rite of passage to host the big game.  It asks a lot but gives even more, as my amply stocked pantry can show for (12 bags of chips and counting).