Feng shui, frozen tundra and two toddlers

Bobby Curran
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Friday - January 25, 2008
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I’m no sooner settled on the couch last Sunday than my wife pops her head into the living room with a question.“You haven’t forgotten what today is, have you?”

Of course not. Today is a veritable football feast.First,a tasty pupu with San Diego and New England. Then a gorgeous main course with the Giants visiting the frozen tundra. Favre vs. Manning. Hand warmers. Possible frostbite. Game for the ages.

“Today the feng shui people are coming to do the house,” she announces cheerfully. “They’ll be here at 3 o’clock.”

From there it took a sudden turn for the worse.

“So, if you could take the boys out for a couple of hours.”

How had this gotten by me? And what kind of reputable people would feng shui during the NFC championship game? Where am I going to take a 4-year old and a 2-year old to watch the game?

“Honey, you’ve gotta be kidding. My chi will never be right after this. You’re going to evict me from my own house on game day? No amount of feng shui will ever put this right. You could bring 10 Zen masters and throw in half a dozen Trappist monks and an exorcist and this house will never recover from this travesty.”

All falls on deaf ears, of course. And I know deep down that if mama’s not happy, then nobody’s happy. A quick call to Murphy’s. Uncle Don to the rescue. He’s not open, but he’s having a few friends in to watch the game and, sure, bring the little guys down. I load up. Milk cups for the ride. Diapers and wipes for Finn. Box of toy animals for Max. This can be salvaged.

We get to Murphy’s. The boys love it here. Don’s wife Marion has a new Mr.Potato Head for Finn and both boys know they can cadge good things to eat and drink from Murph. So they’ll live with their father and his strange fascination with grown men wearing helmets and shiny pants.And the Giants are cooperating, hanging in against the Packers in the bitter cold, shutting down Ryan Grant and the running game. Plaxico Burress is having a career night and Eli Manning is looking like, well, like Peyton Manning.

But now it’s near the end of the fourth quarter. Max is starting to fade and Finn is greeting arriving dinner guests by running into their legs.“Can we go home now, Dad?” I think for a second.“Let’s call Mrs. Shui and see if the coast is clear.”

It is, and I get them into the car at the start of overtime. I’ll listen to the end without much hope for my Giants because Green Bay won the coin toss. Shortly thereafter Favre throws the pick and I’m hoping against hope when Lawrence Tynes lines up for a 47-yard field goal after having missed from 36 and 43. When it goes through I’m yelling and honking the horn.

Finn pipes up from the back seat: “Did your team win, Dad?”

Yes, they did. I’m feeling expansive when we get home. So what if the dining room table is on a slant, all the pictures are moved in the living room and our bed is halfway across the room. It’s all good. My wife is explaining how all the energy is staying in the house now, and we’ll all be happier and sleep better and make more money. And I can’t believe the Giants just beat the Packers at Lambeau.Wind chill 24 degrees below zero.

“Hey honey,” I coo. “You think they wanna come back for the Super Bowl?”

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