Growing old is not optional but growing up is. I have decided for purposes of driving the entire world loony that I refuse to grow up.
I am truly blessed to have friends who tolerate (for the most part) my idiosyncrasies and put up with the abberant behavior that is the hallmark of my life. I had the chance tonight to celebrate, albeit belatedly, my birthday and the birthday of my friend, Beth. We chose to dine out because frankly, food always tastes better when you aren't the one standing over the hot stove to prepare it.
The food is only part of the evening. Sharing time together is always good for my soul. Though we are seldom able to actually get together during the month our birthdays actually occur, it is always a celebration to catch up on the lives we lead during the year that passes between our birthday dinners.
They say confession is good for the soul and I confess willingly that I ate too much and enjoyed every single mouthful of it. And, given the chance, I'd do it all over again just to spend the time with Beth catching up on life in general.
She has the kind of laugh that makes you want to join in just because it makes you feel good. Blessed with a quick and wicked wit, conversations with her make the time well spent indeed.
Although the time is always too short, it is always most appreciated by me, at least. Because I know myself all to well, I do tend to wonder if I am more of a chore than a blessing to those who must wade through life with me in their address book.
All I know is that the opportunity to have a good meal, good companionship and excellent conversation makes every day a celebration worthy of cake and ice cream.
Did I mention that the cake was chocolate with chocolate and caramel syrup decorating the plate?
September 8, 2007
Trivial Pursuits
It's Saturday again and the world is filled with household chores and outside the house work and yard work.
The smell of fresh mown grass fills the neighborhood as the various lawn implements are pressed into service and the length of the grass is manicured to personal settings and preferences. Edging and weed eating are completed and the lawns throughout the neighborhood become examples of lawn care and pride of home ownership.
I confess that when the job becomes mine in a few short days, I am not looking forward to the effort required to make the yard look more Beverly Hills than Beverly Hillbillies. But I do enjoy that sense of satisfaction when the yard is groomed and tidied up for the coming week. It's like the feeling you get when the last load of laundry is completed late on Saturday night.
For that moment in time, I revel in the joy that my chores are done. And I try to keep at bay the thoughts that it will all begin again on Monday morning with the weekend's worth of towels, sheets and assorted clothing that rabbit-like breeds in the hamper creating an entire day of washing over a 48 hour period. I haven't figured out the math on that equation yet.
Our mail carrier must have changed recently. The mail, which at one time filled our box by the road no later than 10 a.m. is now dragging home to us around 3 in the afternoon. I miss being able to get the mail earlier in the day. Stupid, I know, but it was a little check-box in my day that has changed and I am not a creature who readily accepts changes.
The temperatures are beginning to look as if we will creep into fall a bit at a time. The delightful people at the weather channel say we will be thinking of sweaters and hot chocolate shortly. There is something so relaxing about the idea of lighting a fire and enjoying an evening barbecue.
My computer has a screen saver of a fireplace on a nice, comfortable burn.
My wonderful husband just laughed when he saw it. Actually, he laughed because he caught me 'warming' my hands in front of the digital flames. O.K., I admit it was stupid, but it was sort of an impulse. Flames dancing in and out of the logs in an incendiary peek-a-boo that is at once imaginary and soothing.
When I was a kid, we moved into a house with a fireplace and there was nothing better than sitting by the fireside and feeling the stored warmth of a thousand suns within the wood that crackled and burned so merrily in the fireplace grate.
I fully realize that greenhouse gasses and a plethora of carcinogens are released into the atmosphere when we light a fire. But until science can come up with a fireplace that can duplicate the aroma of ironwood on a cold night and the feeling of creeping warmth that comes from sitting with your hands extended to the flames, then they can just shut up about it. I'll just bet old Al Gore bought his family a butt load of 'offset credits' so they can light up the old fireplace at the Gore Ranch of Imperical Data and Personal Perfection.
I can just see Tipper now with a hot dog fork in her hands. It's a picture that will never make the media splash that it should and so richly deserves to make, but old Al didn't put on that paunch by running in triathalons.
Being a Southern born boy, he has bellied up to many a serving of old fashioned hickory smoked goodness on more than one occassion. And I can just bet that while he was chowing down on that savory blend of herbs, spices and good old fashioned smoke, he wasn't giving one hoot in hell for whether or not he was leaving a big old size 12 carbon footprint.
Oh no. Brother Al was reaching for another napkin and the bottle of hot pepper sauce to make his meal complete.
Here's hoping that fall will be all it should be. Football games, parades with pretty homecoming queens and their royal and innocent court, marching bands with showstopping tunes and majorettes who don't drop their batons, crisp nights under stadium lights with cheering fans and good times, nights out camping under the autumn skies where the stars are more than can ever be counted and a time that will be forever remembered as a great time with family and friends.
The smell of fresh mown grass fills the neighborhood as the various lawn implements are pressed into service and the length of the grass is manicured to personal settings and preferences. Edging and weed eating are completed and the lawns throughout the neighborhood become examples of lawn care and pride of home ownership.
I confess that when the job becomes mine in a few short days, I am not looking forward to the effort required to make the yard look more Beverly Hills than Beverly Hillbillies. But I do enjoy that sense of satisfaction when the yard is groomed and tidied up for the coming week. It's like the feeling you get when the last load of laundry is completed late on Saturday night.
For that moment in time, I revel in the joy that my chores are done. And I try to keep at bay the thoughts that it will all begin again on Monday morning with the weekend's worth of towels, sheets and assorted clothing that rabbit-like breeds in the hamper creating an entire day of washing over a 48 hour period. I haven't figured out the math on that equation yet.
Our mail carrier must have changed recently. The mail, which at one time filled our box by the road no later than 10 a.m. is now dragging home to us around 3 in the afternoon. I miss being able to get the mail earlier in the day. Stupid, I know, but it was a little check-box in my day that has changed and I am not a creature who readily accepts changes.
The temperatures are beginning to look as if we will creep into fall a bit at a time. The delightful people at the weather channel say we will be thinking of sweaters and hot chocolate shortly. There is something so relaxing about the idea of lighting a fire and enjoying an evening barbecue.
My computer has a screen saver of a fireplace on a nice, comfortable burn.
My wonderful husband just laughed when he saw it. Actually, he laughed because he caught me 'warming' my hands in front of the digital flames. O.K., I admit it was stupid, but it was sort of an impulse. Flames dancing in and out of the logs in an incendiary peek-a-boo that is at once imaginary and soothing.
When I was a kid, we moved into a house with a fireplace and there was nothing better than sitting by the fireside and feeling the stored warmth of a thousand suns within the wood that crackled and burned so merrily in the fireplace grate.
I fully realize that greenhouse gasses and a plethora of carcinogens are released into the atmosphere when we light a fire. But until science can come up with a fireplace that can duplicate the aroma of ironwood on a cold night and the feeling of creeping warmth that comes from sitting with your hands extended to the flames, then they can just shut up about it. I'll just bet old Al Gore bought his family a butt load of 'offset credits' so they can light up the old fireplace at the Gore Ranch of Imperical Data and Personal Perfection.
I can just see Tipper now with a hot dog fork in her hands. It's a picture that will never make the media splash that it should and so richly deserves to make, but old Al didn't put on that paunch by running in triathalons.
Being a Southern born boy, he has bellied up to many a serving of old fashioned hickory smoked goodness on more than one occassion. And I can just bet that while he was chowing down on that savory blend of herbs, spices and good old fashioned smoke, he wasn't giving one hoot in hell for whether or not he was leaving a big old size 12 carbon footprint.
Oh no. Brother Al was reaching for another napkin and the bottle of hot pepper sauce to make his meal complete.
Here's hoping that fall will be all it should be. Football games, parades with pretty homecoming queens and their royal and innocent court, marching bands with showstopping tunes and majorettes who don't drop their batons, crisp nights under stadium lights with cheering fans and good times, nights out camping under the autumn skies where the stars are more than can ever be counted and a time that will be forever remembered as a great time with family and friends.
September 7, 2007
I amazed myself
Okay, so you know that I have been exercising and trying to regain the vitality of my youth or at least be within shouting distance of same.
But yesterday, I discovered something pretty amazing.
I had to run a couple of errands and my van was on life support. Truly. It was hooked up to the power grid and sucking down the amps like there was no tomorrow. But my errands had to be done TODAY.
I decided, friend in tow, to walk to town and back to accomplish my errands. They weren't great but they needed to be done.
In the process I discovered two things: first, I hate purses. I have always known this, but the walk yesterday served to cement that understanding in my mind. Never content to stay on my shoulders, which apparently lack that female ability to keep a shoulderstrap in place, the purse slides off and begins to dangle like bait for the would-be muggers of the world.
Second, a purse is doggone heavy. Even if you don't carry a ten pound makup bag with you, a purse is a heavy and cumbersome item to wag around all day. And if your family is anything like mine, your purse becomes their catch-all for items they no longer possess the strength to manage.
The day was sunny and breezy and we walked.
I have a pet peeve about my town. Sidewalks seem to be tossed into the verdant greens of lawns and businesses at random. Our sleepy little town seems to feel that sidewalks are a luxury for only some places and only for certain sides of the street. While I understand that putting in sidewalks does cost money, I figure if we can afford to spend millions (literally) on a sports complex that caters to the rich, then we ought to be able to conjur up the cash to put more sidewalks in our town!
Since I DO like to walk now that I am more physically able to do so, it would be nice to do so in a safe place that was not a thoroughfare for autos and their psycho drivers who seem to believe a pedestrian in the road at any time is an invitation to play their own private version of "Death Race 2000".
The walk to town from my house as measured by the kindly people at Mapquest registers as 1.3 miles ONE WAY. Far from suffering through, I actually enjoyed it and am now considering getting a little pull cart and a cold foods bag so I can walk to the grocery store instead of wasting fossil fuels to get what we need. Plus, the walking will definately do my body some good.
I was proud of myself for completing the walk without it requiring a 'come rescue me' phone call to get me back home.
When I was a kid, we walked and rode our bikes everywhere in town we wanted to go or we simply stayed home. My parents considered driving all over town to take us to see our friends a total waste of time, money and gasoline. Especially when one tossed in the understanding that each one of us had a working, reliable bicycle and two good legs from which to choose as our method of transportation.
My bike has had a tune-up and a basket is on the front. I'd like to add another one or two on the back and then I really could bring home a few grocery items each day in that most European fashion of just getting what you need a bit at a time.
Of course, in the process of making the lifestyle switch to accomodate this newfound desire, I will have to decide which days require the use of the van and its delightfully low miles per gallon that makes Mujibar at the local filling station smile warmly any time I fill 'er up. It's not so much the requirement of the fill up that is bad. It is the kindly smile through the golden teeth that seem to indicate my money has purchased not only gasoline, but more dentistry than I have ever been inclined to endure.
Oh well.
In due time, perhaps I will have lost weight, regained my vigor and restored at least a passing glance at my youth.
If all else fails, I can honestly say I am reducing my carbon footprint both literally and figuratively. And I didn't require offset credits to do it.
But yesterday, I discovered something pretty amazing.
I had to run a couple of errands and my van was on life support. Truly. It was hooked up to the power grid and sucking down the amps like there was no tomorrow. But my errands had to be done TODAY.
I decided, friend in tow, to walk to town and back to accomplish my errands. They weren't great but they needed to be done.
In the process I discovered two things: first, I hate purses. I have always known this, but the walk yesterday served to cement that understanding in my mind. Never content to stay on my shoulders, which apparently lack that female ability to keep a shoulderstrap in place, the purse slides off and begins to dangle like bait for the would-be muggers of the world.
Second, a purse is doggone heavy. Even if you don't carry a ten pound makup bag with you, a purse is a heavy and cumbersome item to wag around all day. And if your family is anything like mine, your purse becomes their catch-all for items they no longer possess the strength to manage.
The day was sunny and breezy and we walked.
I have a pet peeve about my town. Sidewalks seem to be tossed into the verdant greens of lawns and businesses at random. Our sleepy little town seems to feel that sidewalks are a luxury for only some places and only for certain sides of the street. While I understand that putting in sidewalks does cost money, I figure if we can afford to spend millions (literally) on a sports complex that caters to the rich, then we ought to be able to conjur up the cash to put more sidewalks in our town!
Since I DO like to walk now that I am more physically able to do so, it would be nice to do so in a safe place that was not a thoroughfare for autos and their psycho drivers who seem to believe a pedestrian in the road at any time is an invitation to play their own private version of "Death Race 2000".
The walk to town from my house as measured by the kindly people at Mapquest registers as 1.3 miles ONE WAY. Far from suffering through, I actually enjoyed it and am now considering getting a little pull cart and a cold foods bag so I can walk to the grocery store instead of wasting fossil fuels to get what we need. Plus, the walking will definately do my body some good.
I was proud of myself for completing the walk without it requiring a 'come rescue me' phone call to get me back home.
When I was a kid, we walked and rode our bikes everywhere in town we wanted to go or we simply stayed home. My parents considered driving all over town to take us to see our friends a total waste of time, money and gasoline. Especially when one tossed in the understanding that each one of us had a working, reliable bicycle and two good legs from which to choose as our method of transportation.
My bike has had a tune-up and a basket is on the front. I'd like to add another one or two on the back and then I really could bring home a few grocery items each day in that most European fashion of just getting what you need a bit at a time.
Of course, in the process of making the lifestyle switch to accomodate this newfound desire, I will have to decide which days require the use of the van and its delightfully low miles per gallon that makes Mujibar at the local filling station smile warmly any time I fill 'er up. It's not so much the requirement of the fill up that is bad. It is the kindly smile through the golden teeth that seem to indicate my money has purchased not only gasoline, but more dentistry than I have ever been inclined to endure.
Oh well.
In due time, perhaps I will have lost weight, regained my vigor and restored at least a passing glance at my youth.
If all else fails, I can honestly say I am reducing my carbon footprint both literally and figuratively. And I didn't require offset credits to do it.
September 4, 2007
Literally
An amazing thing is happening.
People have begun to take everyone literally.
As if no one is capable of making a misstep or uttering a malaprop, intentional or otherwise.
People with incredibly thin skin complain that the world at large is against them because another soul uttered words that were personally offensive to them or that just plain hurt their delicate feelings.
I honestly believe that we should all be nice and play well together, but sometimes even the most well intentioned and cultured person on the face of the earth can stumble through their words and say or do something totally out of character in a moment of stress.
Does this mean they should be vilified and hung up as an object of scorn for the world to pillory?
I don't believe so.
The very same voices that scream the loudest about how offended they are by the 'literal' statements and tone of others don't seem to mind getting all of their daily exercise by jumping to conclusions about the possible meaning and agenda of the person who said it.
They seem to feel that they are personally immune when they themselves make statements that are designed to get attention or inflame the masses.
It is as if the injuction to avoid crying "FIRE!" in a crowded place is a rule for everone but those who want to toss the first match.
If everything is to be a literal interpretation, then we must begin at infancy to irradicate the subversive. Story books must contain only facts supported by governmental research and the efforts of the popular lobbying groups of the day. That which falls out of vogue must be destroyed so that the literal can overcome the figurative in what will certainly be a triumph of truth and perfection.
Imagine the trouble political candidates will have with this new format. The Good Lord knows that politicians as a whole seem to have no problem with figurative expression. What they lack is the literal that makes the line from point A to point B short, direct and above all, straight.
If this new policy is to work at all, we must apply it across the board without prejudice.
Those who use inflammatory speech must be prosecuted and perhaps exiled to a location for dangerous prisoners and verbal terrorists.
Imagine how quickly we could weed out political candidates who simply could not speak the truth, as determined by the latest Gallup Poll.
It is an Orwellian vision that seems to be bearing fruit. You have to be the "RIGHT" person in order to utter the phrases that offend and it be considered a verbal bon mot.
I don't think I'll ever be that person. I have too much of a tendency to shoot from the lip.
People have begun to take everyone literally.
As if no one is capable of making a misstep or uttering a malaprop, intentional or otherwise.
People with incredibly thin skin complain that the world at large is against them because another soul uttered words that were personally offensive to them or that just plain hurt their delicate feelings.
I honestly believe that we should all be nice and play well together, but sometimes even the most well intentioned and cultured person on the face of the earth can stumble through their words and say or do something totally out of character in a moment of stress.
Does this mean they should be vilified and hung up as an object of scorn for the world to pillory?
I don't believe so.
The very same voices that scream the loudest about how offended they are by the 'literal' statements and tone of others don't seem to mind getting all of their daily exercise by jumping to conclusions about the possible meaning and agenda of the person who said it.
They seem to feel that they are personally immune when they themselves make statements that are designed to get attention or inflame the masses.
It is as if the injuction to avoid crying "FIRE!" in a crowded place is a rule for everone but those who want to toss the first match.
If everything is to be a literal interpretation, then we must begin at infancy to irradicate the subversive. Story books must contain only facts supported by governmental research and the efforts of the popular lobbying groups of the day. That which falls out of vogue must be destroyed so that the literal can overcome the figurative in what will certainly be a triumph of truth and perfection.
Imagine the trouble political candidates will have with this new format. The Good Lord knows that politicians as a whole seem to have no problem with figurative expression. What they lack is the literal that makes the line from point A to point B short, direct and above all, straight.
If this new policy is to work at all, we must apply it across the board without prejudice.
Those who use inflammatory speech must be prosecuted and perhaps exiled to a location for dangerous prisoners and verbal terrorists.
Imagine how quickly we could weed out political candidates who simply could not speak the truth, as determined by the latest Gallup Poll.
It is an Orwellian vision that seems to be bearing fruit. You have to be the "RIGHT" person in order to utter the phrases that offend and it be considered a verbal bon mot.
I don't think I'll ever be that person. I have too much of a tendency to shoot from the lip.
September 3, 2007
Labor Day
It's odd that we celebrate a day called Labor Day by avoiding any labor at all.
My husband, who is generally an early riser with a pleasant nature (an irksome trait at times), slept in like there was no tomorrow. Which, I suppose, is only fair. Since he is the sole bacon bringer and bread winner of the household, he deserves some time off for good behavior.
Although it is an alleged holiday, the laundry still has to be done. It seldom crawls into the washer and does itself. Dang it! If only it were a little more self motivated I could finish the book I have been reading or catch a few minutes of the movie I have tried to watch for three days now.
While I fully realize that the laundry will never do itself and that the floor will never willingly drag the mop across its surface, it doesn't keep me from fantasizing about how nice it would be to live in an enchanted house that did those little mundane chores by itself.
Of course, it does beg the question of what would happen if the enchanted house decided that my posterior was too wide for the chairs or that I was not shopping for sufficient fruits and vegetables to stock both the pantry racks and the refrigerator with the nutrients agreed upon by the FDA and their handy little pyramid of good eating.
Would the furniture eject me and compel me to go for longer walks? Would there be a conspiracy between the household appliances and my i-Pod to compel me to exercise as if the shoes I wore were pre-programmed for a certain mileage and wouldn't let me return to home base until they had walked the proscribed path?
The freezer and microwave would become nagging, shrill voices of authority telling me and anyone within earshot that I had already consumed enough junk for the day and my power was being cut off and the doors would no longer open for me.
Just thinking about how far biometrics have come for securing the lunch money, military bases and laboratories of the world makes me wonder if we couldn't and shouldn't apply the same technology to eating and exercising.
Our fingerprints could be scanned indicating the precise diet that is required to return to the normal sized clothing of bygone days. Calories would be dispensed on a regular cycle to prevent blood sugar falloffs and the food would be prepared by the enchanted appliances to be whatever would compel us to actually eat the food that was now 'healthy' and 'good for us'.
But, I worry that the government rats would get involved in the enchantment and create a weapon of fearful properties. They could make sure the 'good guys' were all scanned in and simply starve out the 'enemy' with absolute impunity. That kind of power would be dangerous at home and abroad.
Whatever political party had control would be able to wield the shopping cart to compel people to flock to their banners and to espouse their ideology just to be able to get a meal for themselves and their family.
If you refused to bow under the pressure, your cupboards would rival Old Mother Hubbard's for the sheer lack of volume. And if you think you'd be frantic about getting something for your favorite pooch to eat, imagine how you might feel to be in the same position but with a child begging for the 'bone'.
Science fiction is becoming fact in many areas of our lives. I hope this is one that doesn't ever see development. We don't need to have every bite micromanaged. Inevitably, micromanagement tends to leave someone on the sidelines everytime. It isn't intentional most of the time, but it still leaves someone out in the cold when they can least afford it.
My husband, who is generally an early riser with a pleasant nature (an irksome trait at times), slept in like there was no tomorrow. Which, I suppose, is only fair. Since he is the sole bacon bringer and bread winner of the household, he deserves some time off for good behavior.
Although it is an alleged holiday, the laundry still has to be done. It seldom crawls into the washer and does itself. Dang it! If only it were a little more self motivated I could finish the book I have been reading or catch a few minutes of the movie I have tried to watch for three days now.
While I fully realize that the laundry will never do itself and that the floor will never willingly drag the mop across its surface, it doesn't keep me from fantasizing about how nice it would be to live in an enchanted house that did those little mundane chores by itself.
Of course, it does beg the question of what would happen if the enchanted house decided that my posterior was too wide for the chairs or that I was not shopping for sufficient fruits and vegetables to stock both the pantry racks and the refrigerator with the nutrients agreed upon by the FDA and their handy little pyramid of good eating.
Would the furniture eject me and compel me to go for longer walks? Would there be a conspiracy between the household appliances and my i-Pod to compel me to exercise as if the shoes I wore were pre-programmed for a certain mileage and wouldn't let me return to home base until they had walked the proscribed path?
The freezer and microwave would become nagging, shrill voices of authority telling me and anyone within earshot that I had already consumed enough junk for the day and my power was being cut off and the doors would no longer open for me.
Just thinking about how far biometrics have come for securing the lunch money, military bases and laboratories of the world makes me wonder if we couldn't and shouldn't apply the same technology to eating and exercising.
Our fingerprints could be scanned indicating the precise diet that is required to return to the normal sized clothing of bygone days. Calories would be dispensed on a regular cycle to prevent blood sugar falloffs and the food would be prepared by the enchanted appliances to be whatever would compel us to actually eat the food that was now 'healthy' and 'good for us'.
But, I worry that the government rats would get involved in the enchantment and create a weapon of fearful properties. They could make sure the 'good guys' were all scanned in and simply starve out the 'enemy' with absolute impunity. That kind of power would be dangerous at home and abroad.
Whatever political party had control would be able to wield the shopping cart to compel people to flock to their banners and to espouse their ideology just to be able to get a meal for themselves and their family.
If you refused to bow under the pressure, your cupboards would rival Old Mother Hubbard's for the sheer lack of volume. And if you think you'd be frantic about getting something for your favorite pooch to eat, imagine how you might feel to be in the same position but with a child begging for the 'bone'.
Science fiction is becoming fact in many areas of our lives. I hope this is one that doesn't ever see development. We don't need to have every bite micromanaged. Inevitably, micromanagement tends to leave someone on the sidelines everytime. It isn't intentional most of the time, but it still leaves someone out in the cold when they can least afford it.
September 2, 2007
Football is in the air
Gentlemen, it is better to have died a small boy than to fumble this football. - John Heisman
At Georgia Southern, we don't cheat. That costs money and we don't have any. - Erk Russell (Georgia Southern)
Football is only a game. Spiritual things are eternal. Nevertheless, Beat Texas. - seen on a church sign in Arkansas.
After you retire, there's only one big event left....and I ain't ready for that. - Bobby Bowden (Florida State)
The man who complains about the way the ball bounces is likely to be the one who dropped it. - Lou Holtz (Arkansas)
When you win, nothing hurts. - Joe Namath (Alabama)
Motivation is simple. You eliminate those who are not motivated. - Lou Holtz (Arkansas)
If you want to walk the heavenly streets of gold, you gotta know the password, "Roll, tide, roll!" - Paul 'Bear' Bryant (Alabama)
A school without football is in danger of deteriorating into a medieval study hall. - Frank Leahy (Notre Dame)
You can learn more character on the two-yard line than anywhere else in life. - Paul Dietzel (LSU)
It's kind of hard to rally around a math class. - Paul 'Bear' Bryant (Alabama)
I make my practices real hard because if a player is a quitter, I want him to quit in practice, not in a game. - Paul 'Bear' Bryant (Alabama)
I could have been a Rhodes Scholar, except for my grades. - Duffy Daugherty (Michigan State)
Always remember..... Goliath was a 40 point favorite over David. - Shug Jordan (Auburn)
If lessons are learned in defeat, our team is getting a great education. - Murray Warmath (Minnesota)
My attitude has always been 'If it's worth playing, it's worth paying the price to win'. - Paul 'Bear' Bryant
The price of victory is high but so are the rewards. - Paul 'Bear' Bryant (Alabama)
At Georgia Southern, we don't cheat. That costs money and we don't have any. - Erk Russell (Georgia Southern)
Football is only a game. Spiritual things are eternal. Nevertheless, Beat Texas. - seen on a church sign in Arkansas.
After you retire, there's only one big event left....and I ain't ready for that. - Bobby Bowden (Florida State)
The man who complains about the way the ball bounces is likely to be the one who dropped it. - Lou Holtz (Arkansas)
When you win, nothing hurts. - Joe Namath (Alabama)
Motivation is simple. You eliminate those who are not motivated. - Lou Holtz (Arkansas)
If you want to walk the heavenly streets of gold, you gotta know the password, "Roll, tide, roll!" - Paul 'Bear' Bryant (Alabama)
A school without football is in danger of deteriorating into a medieval study hall. - Frank Leahy (Notre Dame)
You can learn more character on the two-yard line than anywhere else in life. - Paul Dietzel (LSU)
It's kind of hard to rally around a math class. - Paul 'Bear' Bryant (Alabama)
I make my practices real hard because if a player is a quitter, I want him to quit in practice, not in a game. - Paul 'Bear' Bryant (Alabama)
I could have been a Rhodes Scholar, except for my grades. - Duffy Daugherty (Michigan State)
Always remember..... Goliath was a 40 point favorite over David. - Shug Jordan (Auburn)
If lessons are learned in defeat, our team is getting a great education. - Murray Warmath (Minnesota)
My attitude has always been 'If it's worth playing, it's worth paying the price to win'. - Paul 'Bear' Bryant
The price of victory is high but so are the rewards. - Paul 'Bear' Bryant (Alabama)
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