Many reasons to sport a smile

“I’ll be shocked if Brett retires.”
That was the opening line of my last regular season column, and I meant every word of it. Luckily for me, and all Packer Backers around the globe, I was right.
The news traveled with swift grace around the nation last Friday, after Brett winked the go-ahead at his local newspaper in Mississippi. I’m coming back, he said. I’m excited, he added. The potential for the team, he inferred, was high.
I suspect Wisconsin’s taverns did some good business on Friday night. Fish fries and libations for all! And how about FOUR quarters for the billiards table, young bar-keep? Yes, yes! These are my dancing trousers! Thank you for noticin’.
Although I was not surprised by the news, I welcomed and celebrated it like the birth of a child. A really, really splendid child that can throw a tight spiral faster than a nickel falling from the moon.
And, like Number Four after tossing a laser-beam touchdown, I sported a smile radiating with pure, remarkable joy for the entire duration of the frigid, wonderful weekend.
I even attempted giving our Newfoundland pup, Favre Junior, a fireman’s carry through the dining room. He loved it.
So yep, between the good news and the beautiful winter weather, it’s been a pretty nice week. But there was one other thing ...
Oh, sure. I remember.
There is only one thing more satisfying that the Packers winning a Super Bowl: Watching the bears lose one.
And here’s an interesting thought: Any silly fool who ever compared Wrecks Grossboy to Number Four should be, from here on out, forbidden from ever speaking about or watching football ever again. What a joke.
Where I was watching the game, there was actually Wisconsinites hoping for Chicago to score again so that “it would be a close game.” I don’t know who let these traitors into the state, but I nearly made a move to thwack a few of them in the noggin’ with my smoking pipe.
Thankfully, and in a nod to Professor Karma, I restrained myself, explained the superb-ness of watching the bears self-implode, and then busted into a fine rendition of “The Charleston.”
I still got those moves, honey. Believe it.
So yeah, just when you think you’ve lived a perfect week, another surprise comes along. Good things come in threesies, you know.
On Monday, my new digital barometer came in the mail, just in time for the biggest ice fishing trip of the season. Huzzah!
Life is good, folks.
Until the mood strikes me, then.