Game

I’ve got some great game photos. Wild mallard breast. Venison haunch. Pigeon. Pheasant. Partridge. Prepared both at home and in restaurants. I’ve even got a couple shots of shot (buckshot, that is)— proof that the warning, “caution: game may contain shot,” is valid and valuable if you like your teeth.

But today is the Super Bowl! The big game day, and boy-oh-boy do I love a Super Bowl party. I don’t even really care about football. I’ve never even been to a football game in person (I tried to go to THE GAME when I was at Yale, but those plans were foiled by a drunken friend I had to drive home and who then proceeded to pass out on the kitchen countertop, with a toaster for a pillow. I kid you not.)

There’s just something so delightfully indulgent about a Sunday evening gathering. And the game usually finishes early enough that you can still be on your game at work the next day. And then there’s the food. The wings. The chili. The dips. The cookies. The nachos (with all the fixings). It’s just fun. But, alas, no Super Bowl parties for me anymore, not on this side of the pond. So I settle for England-Scotland games, and treat my English and Scottish friends to a glimpse of what a game day party in America tastes like.
🇺🇸 🏈 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 🏈 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 🏈 🇺🇸
#game — the @thegfw word of the day on this fine Super Bowl Sunday.