Tag Archives: Saints

Friday Fun

Well, it’s fun for me, not so much for Atlanta fans. Sorry guys.

I didn’t get much sleep last night because I wasn’t going to bed until the final second ticked off the clock in the 4th quarter of the Saints-Falcons game. Call me paranoid, but too much happens in the last few seconds of the games, especially this season. But we pulled out a win and woo-woo! 9-2 baby! Now we just have to battle Seattle next week. *sigh*

Not going to talk about football this entire post, promise. I probably lost some of y’all at the first sentence. Your eyes glazed over, drool started to pool at the corner of your mouths and the rest of this blog post will be lost. Ah well. Sorry about that.

However, since the Saints played last night, that means I’m reasonably free on Sunday. I’ll still end up watching as many games as I can. That Denver-New England game promises to be a good one, but because my boys aren’t playing, I can work. Yeah, fun right? Meh. Eh, actually it isn’t all that bad. I have a book to edit and another one to finish in order to meet my year-end goals. So I can start 2014 with a clean slate. No works in progress, no half-finished stories that are driving me crazy. I can kick off January with a new book and let it flow.

At least that’s the theory. Not sure how it’ll work but I’m going to give it the old college try!

That means this weekend is dedicated to writing. So is the day before Thanksgiving and the weekend after Thanksgiving. If I’m not in a tryptophan coma. Making a note to myself now: Don’t gorge on turkey. Eat the Korean food. We’ll see if that sticks.

The song I chose to kick off the weekend sounds pretty epic. It’s Avenged Sevenfold’s newest single “Shepard of Fire”. I really like it and it puts me in the mood to write. Win-win situation!

Happy Friday, y’all!

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Monday, Why Oh Why

I woke up this morning thinking…it really should be Sunday. Because there’s no way I’m ready for Monday to be here already. Not just because it’s the start of the work week, but because I’m still not ready for RomantiCon.

Okay that’s a lie. I’m mostly ready. I have everything I plan to wear put to the side waiting to go into the suitcase. I’m waiting to make absolutely sure I don’t change my mind before putting them in the vacuum packs and sealing them. By the way, if you travel and don’t want to lug around ten bags, those vacuum packs are lifesavers. I can fit my whole wardrobe in them. I’m hoping I can fit everything in one bag this year. With the still iffy shoulder, I don’t want to have to drag two big suitcases through the parking garage *shudder*

The rest of the weekend went well. I got my hair done on Saturday and then ended up shopping with my sister. She’s the worst sort of influence on me. Was it really necessary for me to buy another pair of shoes? Forget that the soles are made of memory foam and therefore are guaranteed to be comfy at the conference, did I really need another pair? Honestly! By the time I got home that afternoon, I was numb with fatigue and passed out for a couple of hours.

Did I feel guilty about that? Not really. Just like I didn’t feel guilty for watching football all day yesterday. All. Day. Why? Because on Friday evening, I wrote “The End” on “Touched By Lightning” (Working title) and sent it to my critique partners. And it’s probably a damn good thing I was book free this weekend. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy my nephew or realized that he’s the good luck guy for Saints games. When Bennett was at my house, we were kicking it. When he left, we weren’t. So my brother brought him back. And we won.

Yup, good luck guy.

So that’s my weekend. I’ll be mostly quiet this week because of the conference but I promise I’ll have plenty of stories to share when I get back!

How was your weekend?

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Sweet Freedom

Mostly.

I had a productive weekend. Not to brag or anything. But it’s been a while since I had a weekend where I was able to send off a story for my critique partners to be looked over, get them back, revise as requested, send the story off the my editor for final proofreading and beta read my friend’s story. Oh and add 3k to the WIP that I’ve been working on since June.

That story still isn’t ready but 35k is a good milestone to reach. I figure if I can churn out another 10k a week, it’ll be ready to send off to my CPs and betas before September ends. Which means it’ll still be past my deadline, but it’ll be finished and that’s all that matters, right? Of course, I probably have more people who have to read this story than the other. Mostly because we’re all in this together. Kind of like a continuous line of conjoined twins, all attached at the hip, if one of us goes down, we all go. Heh. How’s that for morbid?

Other than that, the weekend was pretty good. The Saints won in a spectacular game against the Falcons. I mean…okay I admit I may have dozed off during halftime. What? I’d had beer, doughnuts and was sleepy! I woke up when things got exciting. And stayed glued to the edge of my seat while the Matt Ryan took the Falcons down the field into Saints’ territory in the last 2 minutes of the game. They got to the goal line. Six points down and there’s only one thing they can do: go for the touchdown. No field goal would work to put them in the lead. They needed 6 points to tie and the extra point to pull ahead.

Matt Ryan went back and launched the ball in the end zone…Only to have the ball deflected and intercepted by the Saints.

I was screaming my fool head off. I was going in-sane, y’all. I hate when the Saints lose, but when we lose to the Falcons, or Cowboys, Bears or 49ers, it’s like being sliced with the biggest piece of paper ever and someone then pouring a nice salty lemon juice solution over the cut. Yeah, it hurts. It’s been years since the Cowboys, Bears and 49ers have been in our division, but I remember the 80s…and the blackouts and when the Saints were Ain’ts and it hurts when we lose to them now. But for the Falcons to beat us? Meh, it’s that lemon juice solution times a thousand. Those Dirty Birds…Meh. But we won, so I can be happy!

Right? But it’s Monday and Mondays suck. I wish I was home in my bed. How about y’all? Is anyone else suffering from football hangover from gorging themselves on the first full weekend of football in months? Anyone?

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A Plague Upon the House of Avet

At least that’s what it feels like.

Last week, I thought I was dying. Went to the doctor to find out I had an upper respiratory infection. Okay, I can handle that as long as I get a shot and some meds. I was a good girl. I took all of my medicine, which is unusual for me, and I rested. I didn’t overdo it or anything. Thanksgiving rolled around and I had a wonderful time.

The food was plentiful and good. The football games were plentiful and two of them were really good. I had big plans for Friday and Saturday. I have so many WIPs that need to be worked on, I promised myself (and my muse) that we’d sit down and churn out some serious numbers. Friday morning I woke up, had a cup of coffee, took a shower, put clean pjs on and went back to bed. I slept until 2 pm. Obviously I wasn’t going to get any writing done. It had to be some kind of post-Thanksgiving funk. I shrugged off the thought and enjoyed a day of laziness because Saturday it was on like Donkey Kong!

Saturday morning I woke up, groaned and heaved and coughed and sneezed. Ugh. I wasn’t going anywhere. Not even the store to pick up groceries for me and the animals. I rolled back in bed, certain I’d feel better by Sunday when I absolutely had to go to the store. No excuses.

Yup, still sick on Sunday morning, but I went to the store and bought sweets. Why? I have no idea, but when I got home I had cookies and doughnuts and ice cream. I wanted to eat all of it, while sniffling and sneezing over it, permanently claiming it all as mine. I didn’t of course, but I did eat a lot of bad stuff yesterday. And guess what? It didn’t make me feel any better.

Here we are an exact week after my doctor’s appointment and the cold still lingers. *shakes her fist at the fates* However, I did start writing last night after the Saints broke my heart by losing. Despite the sniffling, sneezing and cold sweats, I got a good word count in and I did it again this morning. I haven’t worked out since Thanksgiving morning and I feel awful for it, but there’s no way I can sweat with this cold thing going on without feeling as though I was back in the 1600’s and still believed in the four humors.

Yeah, it’s a miserable Danica you’re reading about today. But I did have lovely Thanksgiving holiday otherwise. I read a lot. I watched a lot of movies (hello, The Black Swan was fucked up!) and I cuddled with fat cat and needy dog.

How was yours?

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Fantasy Man Friday

Yup,  you know what day it is. After all this time I shouldn’t have to remind you. Let the partying begin! Well, maybe not partying, but at least be happy that another work week has ended and we’re headed for a much needed rest.

Plans for the weekend. To be honest, I don’t have any solid plans. At the most, I’ll get a pedicure (because these dogs are s-a-d) and do some writing. I may meet up with my sister after her hair appointment for lunch, but that’s about it. Oh, and football.

Last night was the official start of the regular football season and the Saints won! Wooo! It wasn’t the prettiest game although there were some amazing plays. I figure the boys just need to get back in the swing of things. At least I hope so.

So today’s Fantasy Man may look familiar to you, but not because he plays football. Ha! You thought it was going to be Drew Brees, didn’t you? Alas, no. Drew is too pure and sweet for Fantasy Man Friday. I love him. I think he’s adorable and I want to pinch his cheek (facial cheeks, ladies!), but he far too darling to be the object of my lust. Sorry if you got your hopes up. No, this man…well, let me just show you:

This gorgeous man made an appearance last week on Fantasy Man Friday and I liked him so much, I had to have him back. Of course, I wish he were wearing as few clothes as he was last week, but there’s just something about that sweat dampened half-shirt…those tight football pants that makes me swoon.

See, this is why women should watch football. There are plenty of manly specimens to ogle. And they bend over a lot. And get sweaty and dirty. *shivers* Um, but that isn’t why I watch football. Ahem. I swear.

I wonder if my sweaty Fantasy Man needs a shower? Y’all go on and have a good weekend, I’m going to look for some soap and a very small wash cloth.

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A Black and Gold Monday

It’s actually not Monday yet. It’s 9:30ish on Sunday night. I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster since 5:30 this evening.

I’ve said it before, and I hate to revisit the issue, but the Saints have great power in this state, in the Gulf Coast region. Their losses become our losses. Their triumphs become our triumphs. I can’t properly explain how full of joy, excitement, disbelief I am and I’m sure a lot of Saints fans feel the same way tonight. I’ll freely admit to screaming and crying when we held the Colts at the goal line. It was over, the Saints had won the Superbowl. The Saints won the Superbowl.

As I said in a comment to a Colts fan, as a Saints fan, I don’t think we would’ve been very hurt to lose to the Colts. We know just how good Manning is. We’re Manning fans. When I play fantasy football, I try to get Peyton and Eli. They’re Archie’s boys after all. Just like Carolina’s Jake Delhomme, they’re homeboys. They belong to our state whether they play for the Saints or not. But to win…to win the Superbowl…it’s emotionally and mentally satisfying.

Tracy Porter, who is from Port Sulphur, Louisiana, made the game winning interception and touchdown. Drew Brees had a fantastic game, proving he is an elite quarterback and deserves the respect of the league. Sean Payton proved he is an aggressive and inventive coach. We did it. We finally did it. After 43 years of fighting bad luck, bad coaching decisions, bad playing, the Saints have given their fans proof that their faith wasn’t misplaced. There will be a lot of celebrating going on in the south. The Saints parade on Tuesday night, will probably rival the Zulu parade on Fat Tuesday.

It wasn’t an easy game and the Colts didn’t give it to us. We fought for this win, and we got it. The reality won’t hit us as Saints fans until Monday morning. We’ll (some of us) go to sleep tonight giddy with disbelief and excitement, and when we wake up in the morning, we probably won’t recall the unbelievable game we watched the night before. But at some point, we’ll stop. We’ll think…”We won the Superbowl. The Saints are Superbowl Champs…” and all will be well. This high will last longer than the NFC Championship win. It’ll last through carnival season. Everyone will talk about where they were when the Saints won, they’ll discuss what they were thinking when the Saints came back from half-time with that onside kick, they’ll get excited all over again, and the chant “Who dat, who dat, who dat say gonna beat dem Saints” will be heard from every mouth for months to come.

My friends, the Saints have won the Superbowl and given their fans in the Gulf Coast states bragging rights until the start of next season. I wouldn’t doubt if there are a lot of children conceived tonight. Children who’ll be named Drew (Brees), Tracy (Porter), Jeremy (Shockey), Reggie (Bush), Payton (Sean Payton), and any other name of those in the Saints organization.

I wish my grandfather and stepdad were alive to see this. They were both die hard Saints fans. Neither of them would have believed we’d ever get this far. Part of me believes they’re seeing this and are having a drink together to celebrate. The Saints are a team for the fans because the fans are the only ones who’ve ever truly believed in them, and never given up on them. They’ve given us hope. Hope that no matter how bad things can, and will get, the struggle for happiness, for success can be achieved. Because now, if the Saints can win the Superbowl, anything is possible.

We believed and they delivered.

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Hell Has Frozen Over

I’m sure you’ve all heard the news by now. The Saints are going to the Superbowl. Oh, I’m sure most of you don’t care, but for the state of Louisiana, this is a very big deal. We’ve waited 43 years to have our faith in our team vindicated.

We’ve worn bags over our heads, had to listen to the games on the radio rather than watch them due to black outs, had to endure ugly ragging by opposing fans. We’ve been the underdogs of the NFL. We’ve had our heritage, even our tragedies, turned into taunts. We’ve suffered countless close calls, bad luck, and dismal performances for years.

We’ve seen lads we consider ‘ours’ (the Peyton and Eli Manning) go on to other teams and win big. We’ve watched them closely, cheered for them when they won Superbowls, been loyal fans to them because they’re from here, because their dad played for us.

And now. We’re going to the SUPERBOWL. 43 years of faith, 43 years of disappointment, 43  years of hopes and dreams have finally coalesced into a winning season for us. Oh trust me, we’re all hoping we win. If we do, there will be…mass hysteria in the streets. There will probably be a serious lack of people at work the day after the Superbowl.

I didn’t even see the team celebration after the field goal last night. No, I was too busy screaming my head off. I could’ve just…exploded, I felt so much joy. Now, in the morning light, I can hardly believe we did it. It seems like a dream, like I’m going to wake up and realize the Vikings did win after all. But no, this is reality.

So now, I can’t help but wonder…If the Saints can make it to the Superbowl after 43 years of fighting tooth and nail for respect, how can I doubt that good things happen? I feel…buoyed by hope, because if the Saints can make it to the big game, then I can get published. It might not happen this year, it might not happen next year, but it will happen.

That’s what the Saints do for this area (Not just New Orleans, or even Louisiana, but the entire Gulf Coast). They give us hope that even though life seems to beat you down time and time again, you can get back up and achieve the highest of the highs. We can become something more. We can all be champions.

Geaux Saints.

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