Imbolc Valentine Moon
We cut the cord some time ago. No more cable tv. We use Roku and through it Netflix and Hulu Plus to get all the television we want. Movies round out our visual entertainment.
That means we no longer have cable television channels carrying the rites of America’s high holy day, the Super Bowl. So, on this Sunday of Sundays, I’ve been reading a Kay Scarpetta mystery, took a nap and generally indulged on my rest day. No workouts on Sundays.
It does leave me feeling faintly like a heretic. I pretend I’ve given up the old religion completely, have no use for it, but of course what I really mean is until the Vikings get a team. I’ve never been a church goer, my attendance more like the evangelicals who get all their preachin’ over the television. But, I never send’em money. I draw the line at making contributions to billionaires and the millionaires who work for them.
Kate’s a big fan of the opening and closing events of the various Olympic games. I’m not. She will find a way to watch them. We watched the Indianapolis 500 at Tanner’s Sports Bar. Maybe we’ll do something like that. These are the particular, the unique events that it does not make sense to load up onto Hulu or Netflix for their flavor is in their immediacy, the unknown.
I’m not feeling deprived. Not at all. But I am aware of that holiday feeling in the air and not being part of it.
N.B. Go Broncos! Have to maintain solidarity with the grandkids.
