Early on in the season, Rex Grossman looked like General Sherman, burning bridges, railroads and defensive units in his wake.
Increasingly lately, though, he’s looked like General Grant. After the war. In the presidency.
If we had kept the run going, with only a few long bombs, we should have easily had that. But it’s lost now.
And I’m sad.
The good news is, my wife still loves me. We’ve still got a beautiful baby on the way. And Jesus loves me as much now as 32 years ago.
It’s brutally cold, so cold you have to feel alive. I have a job, so does my wife. I’ve got great friends who care for me. I live in friggin’ Chicago, U.S. of A. I’m drinking hot cocoa. I had a gypsy skillet from Cozy Corners this afternoon. I have a full fridge. I wear clothes. I have too many shoes (much more than when I was a youth, with one pair a year). I’m in a position to help others. I’m a teacher, teaching in my dream school. It takes all of my fingers to count all of my toes – ten; no more, no less.
I guess it’s not too bad.