stupor bowls

My parents have lived in the same house for close to 40 years. In that time they’ve seen the neighborhood change with families moving in a out, babies being born, people dying, people growing old and jobs changing. When I was a kid there was a family on the corner who’s father was a judge. They had two girls who I later babysat for. They lived in two different houses in our neighborhood, the first on our block then the second around the corner in a mini-mansion whose living room was the size of two full living rooms put together. It was a house on a hill whose high position eventually caused lighting to strike it and blow up one of the chimneys and half a wall on one side of that house.

This family was a little bit wacky, but wacky fun not wacky weird. When they moved to the big house on the hill they began having yearly Super Bowl parties which they termed Stupor Bowl parties. I never went to one, it was adults only, but I heard from my parents about the endless supply of chips and dips and a sandwich that spanned the length of a table. I was always envious of that sandwich.

Since then, my family has called the Super Bowl, the Stupor Bowl, a name I absolutely love. So tonight’s Stupor Bowl had homemade pizzas with fresh sauces. There was a margarita, a pesto, and a vegetable. There were chips and dip and carrots and hummus and pita chips. I tell ya, I love my brother and his wife and their love of food. It keeps me well fed. And then there were birthday cupcakes, a day early. I’m stuffed and a little bit uncomfortable and that’s why we call it a Stupor Bowl.

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