Are You Ready For Some Football?

I strolled the aisles of our uber-trendy Target tonight after work whilst picking up odds and ends.  I lightly traipsed (yes, I said traipsed) down the wine and beer aisle, thinking about picking up a bottle of wine.  I idly turned and what caught my eye?  No, it's impossible.  It's only August.  There must be some mistake.  Yet there I was eye to eye with the most elusive of all beers.  Well, elusive the better part of the dreary year. Sam Adam's Octoberfest was gracing the shelf with aplomb, practically winking at me with a practiced savoir-faire. Just the thought of it was enough to evoke the best fall memories. The smell of a bonfire. The crunch of just dried leaves turning into gold dust. The feel of soft wool scarf wound around a neck. The smell of a woods readying itself for a long sleep.  The sound of high school football bands playing a revelry following a touchdown. The smell of hairspray as the perfect catch-me-a-boyfriend-at-the-game hair style was cemented into place. The chaos of a kitchen while eating vegetable soup with crackers. Small children buried in the crook of an arm as they nod off to sleep while looking at the stars. Warm styrofoam cups of hot chocolate warming numb fingers while yelling "Go Dogs Go!" Football, football and more football.

Now fall brings with it the expectation of spending long afternoons at YaYa and Justy's, being schooled on the finely oiled machine that is the SEC.  Dan Mullen, Urban Meyer and Nick Saben, names that now have meaning. Lounging on the couch while Miss State brings another ball thhhhhisclossse to the end zone, only to have it turned over.  Eating whatever wonderfully sinful dip from YaYa's heritage that she's brought to life that day.  To mourn the loss of Anthony Dixon who was relied upon to pull out every big play (he just graduated, didn't die!). To gaze upon the wonder that is Dan Mullen and ponder the size of his humpback. The poor man will only be able to see his shoes soon, nothing else.

Wondering how the Longhorns are going to fare without McCoy (COLT MCCOY!) and Shippley. What will the Texas boys do? It's the same state of anticipation and dread that whorled around the year after Vince Young graduated.  Colt who? The 4 year old kid attempting to play football? Yeah, that turned out alright in the end.  Now Mack Brown, his name has been known and revered for years. But that's Big Ten.

Octoberfest. Bonfires, gold dust, hot chocolate and football in a bottle.  Welcome back.