How I Consoled Myself After the Rose Bowl. Or, Cavorting with the Enemy

I love college football, and I really love Duck football. So, when the University of Oregon led the PAC-10 in wins and then beat its biggest rival, Oregon State University, for a shot at the Rose Bowl, I was thrilled. In the days leading up to the game, I would grin like an idiot, clap my hands and shout "Rose Bowl!! Yaaay!"

I shed a tear or two when Ohio State beat the Ducks on January 1. I was pretty mad. I had some difficulty releasing my frustration on someone other than my husband. He exacerbated - mightily - the situation by promising for WEEKS not only that the Ducks would win, but that the game would result in a blowout. His words exactly. So, watching my husband be (joyfully) wrong, usually an enjoyable experience, was maddening! It is some consolation that he made a lot of predictions for this year's bowl games and was wrong about pretty much all of them. Other contributing factors include the utter fact that Big 10 football is so.freaking.boring. Three yards and a cloud of dust makes for ridiculously slow football. Lets reserve conservative for politics!

After ranting and raving about the ridiculous game, our disappointing loss, and the pitiful state of PAC-10 football in general (I'm of the rare opinion that if your conference sucks, you suck, so I like to see my conference do well in bowl games; even the enemy), I finally calmed down in the grocery store as we shopped for our weekend with friends at a cabin in Seaside, Oregon.

Which leads me to how I consoled myself after our harrowing loss: the Beaver way.

Here are two Oregon State University graduates starting a fire on the beach. In January.

This is Chris and I, enjoying the warmth of the massive bonfire on the beach. In January.

Me and my friend Brea, another Duck, demonstrating our strength in front of the giant bonfire. Did I mention it's January?

Ok, here's where it gets Beaver-like. Not to mention all the orange.

Illegal fireworks.

This is Chris, unwrapping loads of bottle rockets. As he was digging through the bag, I heard him gleefully (and therefore uncharacteristically) shout "there's a whole brick of 'em!"

Beavers, they do this kind of thing all the time.

It's very therapeutic. No wonder they do it all the time.