While watching football games on TV, my teenager Jacob and I tend to be a little disruptive.  We enjoy the games, but we’re a tad squirrelly.  We have trouble sitting still.  Have trouble not talking.  Have trouble speaking in quiet tones.  Have trouble not changing channels, during commercials.  Yes, we’re trouble.

As a result, we are frequently (always) asked to leave the room.  Banished.  Football fans in exile.

Sunday evening, I knew that I would be unable to behave myself, therefore I banished myself in advance.  Jacob and I would watch the game from the tiny TV in the kitchen.

At kickoff, I began baking and the baking didn’t stop.  I found myself in my element.  Food surrounded me.  Cold beer was at arm’s length in the fridge.  We could change the channels, as we pleased, and talk as loud as we wanted.  And I baked.  Baked.  Baked.  And baked some more.

By the time the game had finished, my results were prolific.  A pan of butterscotch bars, an apple pie, a pumpkin pie, and three chocolate chip pies were before me.  The kitchen had become a “Land of Misfit Football Fans” and the results were the stuff of legend.  Never had not fitting in felt so right or smelled so good.