It was with a sinking feeling yesterday that I realized the LSU Tigers were going to play Mississippi State in Starkville Saturday night. I remembered the times this much superior team in different years got creamed. Well, stark it was indeed. The Tigers looked terrible; Mississippi did not. The penalties nearly crippled LSU, nullifying two touchdowns that would have given them a 21 point lead before the half. They lost 37-7, with one player being disqualified for “targeting.” A new, good rule involving head butts to heads, but humiliating. This game was so bad it was almost entertaining.
But one thing that surprised me to learn is that there is a sports bar in New York, very popular, named Legends, and they hold LSU night, as they did last night, very well attended. Imagine, Tiger fans in the Big Apple. There are also going to hold a college football day this week. Spread the purple and gold!
There was a downpour during Mass yesterday, and a downpour when I got home, but the sun was shining, so you now who was beating his wife. Going to cook a lot of veggies today and just chicken.
Passed one tree on the way home from Mass with leaves that were turning a little gold, no doubt because of the early cool snap. And sad news, you know the house with the little Christmas palm tree I look forward to seeing each Christmas? There are new owners there, they’ve been renovating and the outside is this bland gray-beige. But the heartbreak is that they cut that little tree down; it’s toppled in the green space and how on earth anyone who could set eyes on that adorable little thing could cut it down is beyond me. Do you ever notice people who gravitate to bland colors usually have no sense of soul. For example, at the end of Codifer, where I make a left turn to get home, there has always been this beautiful white house at the very end facing the street. For years, growing in front of it was a most magnificent live oak tree, tall and spreading, and owners who lived there when Mom was alive, at Christmas would wrap the trunk and some of the branches in white lights and it was an exquisite thing to see. It was exquisite any way. A couple of years ago, it was vacant and then I saw it being renovated and then I saw the new owner one morning. She had placed white chairs on the porch much too big for the space, she was a young woman with dark hair and fair skin, wearing a white robe planting white flowers in front. Then she planted white flowers on the fence. Every time I’ve seen her, she’s in white. There’s so much white it’s like a vat of milk. And then I drove home one evening at the beginning of summer to see that the oak tree in their yard had been cut down. It was an abomination. And even her Christmas decorations annoy me. Each year she hands on the fence this illuminated wreath with the old Hippie peace sign in the middle.