Lindy's Latte - Week Four

      Driving through Ely, NV, en route to Elko. Whoot, whoot. Bob claims to be taking me to a newspaper conference, but I suspect Nick, Will, and Curt (who my Cobra Commanders are up against this week) have requested respite from the crazed Fantasy Football owner, known as Mama B. The week didn’t start well at the Brown house as I foolishly, after a miraculous victory over Dave Smith, thought I could  take down my  first born, Sean Brown, on the eve of his 27^th birthday. I know what you’re thinking—how can Sean be your child and 27 years old? Miracles are frequent in my life and yes, as Mr. Hewitt pointed out, I did give birth to him at a miraculously young age.

      As Bob and I pass yet another billboard pointing the way to chic massage parlors in the Northern part of the state, it is snowing. Tender flakes brush against the windshield, quickly swept away by the rush of wiper blades before deciding to take hold or melt. And isn’t that always the question—will they take hold, or will they disintegrate into nothingness, forgotten. Kind of like the Nancy Mr. Rice who spent last week on the bench! But I must repent and forgive. Speaking of sins, let’s be clear, I don’t wish harm on any members of Probation Probation. If it be God’s will for them to suffer injuries, who am I to judge? I realize there was talk that I lifted the Stephen’s Media plane and flew it directly toward Sio Moore’s car, causing an accident in the hopes of freeing Pey-Pey up to score more points, but come on, I have several alibis and haven’t flown a plane since my Chico State days.

      Injuries are heartbreaking. As a newbie to Fantasy Football, I didn’t take the proper precautions before starting the season. It wasn’t until recently I learned about Fantasy Football insurance. While the insurance doesn’t replace the points the injured player should be scoring, they do payout to cover emotional damage that comes with the player’s Nanciness if he misses half the season due to a legitimate injury. If only I’d known. But again, I digress.

      The fragile snowflakes plumped up to the likes of my favorite kicker, Sebastian Janikowski, before transforming into wet, slick, rain. The sun crashes into the snow-capped Ruby Mountains, sparking burnt orange glow against the gray sky, and I’m sure Probation Probation is scoring points in tonight’s game, which I cannot watch due to the lack of reception on Highway 93. The road winds, turns past a grove of low, prickly, desert brush, and I wonder what it must have been like to travel this territory on foot or horseback.

      The Donners were nice people, a group of friends or neighbors who teamed together for an adventure across the country to a brave new world. There were probably petty competitions from the get-go—who could walk the furthest, who could pack the most in their wagons, who was the toughest. When they first set out, they each waged their bets and ranked their competition. Some weakened early, some saved their strength for the weeks ahead, others felt the need to dominate and came out strong, some even experienced swag, not knowing or understanding the dangerous implications. But sooner or later the stakes grew and they turned on one another, feasting on the weak in order to stay alive.

      Such mockery and cannibalism won’t be tolerated in the Captain’s League. The smack talk and desperation for a wins over well-established loyalties must end. No, Cheryl and Bob, I will not trade Andrew Luck. Cannibalism isn’t the answer. There are plenty of quarterbacks up for grabs and there was a reason you put faith in these men to take you across the country. Stick with them and they will hopefully bring you glorious victory.

This week we will be serving The Donner Party:

1 scoop vanilla ice cream
fill with strong coffee
1 1/2 oz Frangelico® hazelnut liqueur

1 oz Irish Whiskey

Pour 1 1/2 oz. frangelico and 1 oz Irish whiskey into a tall glass and fill with strong coffee. Top with a scoop of ice-cream.

Cheers,

Lindy