So Ohio goes

More than thrilled to welcome Amy to my crib for the day. One of the things I love most about her is her wide open heart - she's unafraid to tell it like it is on her blog and by doing so allows others the freedom to speak their mind too.

We are die-hard liberals.

Sure. we're Catholic, and practicing, at that. We attend Mass every Saturday evening, and The Poo puts our weekly contribution to the upkeep of the church in the usher's basket. She thinks that's what money is for, and when she gets a few coins she tells us, "This is my money for church."

But we're Catholic Worker kind of people - good works and forgiveness and how-can-we-presume-to-know-the-will-of-God kind of people. We don't judge. We do our best to lend a hand to mankind through good works, charity and open-mindedeness.

We're voting for Obama, and the refrain in our house when we watch the McCain-Palin trainwreck is: "I can't believe we're LOSING to these guys!"

We are blue-state kind of people.

Unless it is a Saturday.

On Saturday, our house is scarlet.

And gray.

Yes, people, it is college football season again, and in the House of Chicken you route for The Ohio State University, or you go home.

You see, Mr. C is from Cleveland, that old Mistake On The Lake. I spend a portion of every holiday in that good state - you know, the one that decides who will be president.

The state where Hilary won. Remember that? No one thought she could pull it out, and yet, those quirky Ohioans, they gave her the prize.

"Quirky" doesn't begin to describe my own personal Ohioan, who hails from this Rust Belt state but has a degree on his wall that bears the name of the world's most prestigious Ivy League institution.

God, no. Not Yale.

Yale's rival.

But watch the man on a Saturday afternoon and you'd think he not only graduated a Buckeye but actually bleeds water from Lake Erie. I remember one OSU-Michigan game (a championship, maybe?) that almost ended our relationship. I, you see, did the most horrible deed - I sat in Mr. C's seat when he got up to use the bathroom.

When he returned and saw me in his spot, he lost it. I jinxed the game! They would lose! Why didn't I JUST STAY IN MY OWN SEAT?

We made it through, barely, and we both learned our lesson. Or rather, I learned mine. Stay far, far away from home on Saturdays in the fall. Go to the market, go to the mall, go to the moon ... just don't stay home.

Because as Ohio goes, so goes Mr. Chicken.