Better late than ...I was too busy putting an ABP out on Manning to get to posting this before the SB hoopla started.  Enjoy!

In a few days, the unimaginable will happen.  Something I somehow never thought of as a possibility, yet it was a strong probability all along.  And I'm dreading it like I've never dreaded something before.  The world's most over rated and ugliest quarterback of all-time will arrive in Peyton's house.  He will pee in Peyton's toilet and probably wipe his sweaty man giblets with Peyton's towels.  I despise Tom Brady and the entire notion of the Patriots.  Since last Sunday when they won the AFC championship and I realized Tom & Co. would be invading Indy, I have cringed.  Not simply in a "oh I don't like this" kind of way.  It's a skin-crawling, constant agitation I feel about this and I dread it.  Let's put it this way -- I would rather give birth to an elephant while getting a root canal surrounded by a ginormous fish tank than think about the Patriots coming to town for the Super Bowl.  I've been trying to figure out why the mere mention of Brady & the Patriots gets me so riled up, why it makes my blood boil and I become fiercely territorial (note - if you see me peeing on anything in the next few days, you will know I'm just marking what's mine and NOT his).  So between my seething rants about my displeasure of the Patriot invasion, I think I figured out what's going on.  Normally, I am a middle of the road person - I avoid taking sides because I dislike arguments and jockeying for position.  Don't get me wrong, I hold my own opinion about everything, but I respect that it's only my opinion and everything is multidimensional making various opinions valid.  But I am steadfast on my love of Peyton & all things Colts (except Jim Caldwell, but that's another story) and proudly tell anyone who will listen.  Then today as I drove past my long-time bank, I figured it out.  I defend Peyton (and the Colts) because my nature is to be loyal, to stand behind those things which are important in my life regardless of their successes and shortcomings.  Now, let me circle back to why my bank sprung this crazy discovery today.  We have banked at Fifth Third since moving to the Indianapolis area 6+ years ago simply as a matter of convenience.  Since my current employer has apparently never heard of anything electronic (don't you know simply checking your account online means the whole world can rob you blind?) I trek down to the local branch once a week, see familiar faces and go on my way.  A few years ago, Jason suggested we change banks due to better incentives, rates, etc. and I balked... a lot.  You see, every year on May 3rd the teller with the bad kindergarten bangs smiles out the window at me and tells me "Happy 5/3 day" while sending out a 100 Grand candy bar.  Now I know they do this to every customer, but in my jacked up little world this is only for me.  It's my special day, that silly teller somehow saying thank you for Jada N. Svoboda's business.  It's like I'm in a special club because I AM SPECIAL darn it!  And that was my argument to Jason as to why we couldn't change banks.  Who would that teller give her candy bar to on May 3rd?  Would the new bank appreciate me like this?  I had to be loyal to my bank, it was the right thing to do. 

Then I started thinking of my other, um, obsessions which I have stood by in good times and bad.  Now some may say I can't let go of the past, but you see, it's not about that.  It's about my loyalty.  Back in 1989, I stood on the steps of Deer Creek music center (now Verizon Wireless) in my frosted denim shorts & bad-screen print, over priced concert tee proclaiming my undivided love to five men.  (Ok, they were boys back then, but let's not argue trivial points.)  As I jumped up and down with my famous red "Sally Jesse Rapheal" glasses on, I screamed "I LOVE YOU [insert one of five names here]" repeatedly  until I lost my balance and fell down the steps, and then I simply got back up and did it some more.  From that day forward, I was devoted to those five men, even when it wasn't popular.  Life happened, kids came along and my focus shifted so I thought I was "over" these imaginary relationships I had created in my mind.  Then along comes 2009, a reunion tour, and it all came flooding back with more intensity than I ever imagined. In fact, I may or may not have dribbled a little bit in my pants when I they came within 10 feet of me while singing in the audience. I am only slightly embarrassed by my cyber-stalking of all things NKOTB, of my endless vault of knowledge of their every move and of the hundreds of dollars (okay, we are over the $1k mark, but let's not tell Jason) I have spent to show them my loyalty as their #1 fan.

My loyalty isn't universal - for example, I am not loyal to a brand of shampoo or a particular restaurant.  In fact, in non-people relationships I like change... a lot.  But I am fiercely loyal to people in my life, those who I personally know and those who are on my imaginary BFF list.  I dream of  moving to a warmer place, but want to care for my parents as they age like they took care of me growing up; I have two very close friends from my childhood who have drifted in & out of my life over the years, but would lay down in front of a train to protect them (or just to amuse them) on any given day regardless of how long it has been since we last talked.  I wrestle for weeks, sometimes months before "breaking up" with a hair stylist.  I once continued my relationship with a stylist for over a year after she unintentionally cut my hair into a buzzcut (literally).  You see - it's not about change or familiarity.  Loyalty to me is about a continuation of a relationship with another human being; an acknowledgement that either they enrich your life in some way or there is a mutual benefit of the relationship.  Loyalty means I scream "I LOVE YOU DONNIE WAHLBERG" so much at commercials that my 10 year old honestly believes I love Donnie more than him (as of the time of this blog, I cannot confirm or deny my son's allegations).   Loyalty is my comfort blanket, my honor, my word.  It's doing what is right because that's how I want people to treat me.  It's about being the same for someone whether it's pouring down rain or sunny & warm; whether they make your day or hurt your feelings.  It's feeling proud of someone simply for who they are rather than what they do or don't do on that particular day.  It's why in the end, I will always love Peyton, regardless of how many interceptions he throws, the name of the teams he plays for, or how many times he fails to call me after a game to thank me for being his biggest fan.