I’m sitting here pondering two things, right now.

Firstly, when and how did I become a near carbon-copy of my Dad? More on that shortly.

Secondly, how did I get so lucky as to have the most amazingly creative and inspired girlfriend in the world? Seriously. I’m at a loss for words to describe how wonderful she is, and how blessed I feel every day to wake up to this woman.

We’ve had a rough week, in more ways than one. And in just about an hour, I have to take my beloved Bayou to SeaTac airport, where she will board a plane for her Cajun Christmas at home. So it’s a rough week with a bittersweet end, to boot.

On Monday we decided to do a Friday night dinner at a West Seattle watering hole called JaK’s. On one hand, I was really looking forward to it. On the other, I knew it meant that the time for Bayou to leave was inching extremely close.

We had a nice dinner this evening, catching up a bit on our days and reflecting on certain people and events. We were close to leaving when she pulled out a small jewelry box.

“I have one more thing for you to open before I leave,” she said, a smile twinkling in her eyes.

I smiled in return, and took the box. Inside was a beatiful pendant with a red and green glass bead as the centerpiece. It was held together by ornately woven black thread. My first thought was that I would’ve definitely picked this out.

As I pulled the necklace out of the holder, I began to see the real present was behind it. A ruse had been pulled!

I don’t know what showed up first, my smile or the widening of my eyes. I know my jaw dropped open like a guy ogling an exceptionally hot woman.

“How…how…?” was all I could muster.

Bayou grinned from ear to ear and explained that she had been sitting on the surprise for three weeks. (Considering her limited patience, that is truly a record worthy of Guiness.) Apparently, season ticket holders get to refer people to get tickets. Bayou’s incredibly cool boss did, and we got ‘em- we get to see our Seahawks in the playoffs live and in stereo.

So back to my Dad.

I recall fleeing to quieter corners of the house when football was on (especially Ohio State, dear god). Dad would scream about poor tackling, holding calls, and whatever else. As much as I wanted to know about football, I could not stand the yelling at people who couldn’t even hear him, no matter how right he was.

And now, I am a football addict. I reflect upon the games we did watch together (where either the Browns or OSU wasn’t sucking, and thus the screaming was absent), and I learned a lot and definitely learned to appreciate the game.

Every Sunday I sit down with my girl, and I watch. I root for my team, check in on the hapless Browns, and revel in victory or grouse (gracefully) in defeat. And in spirit, Dad is there.

So knowing that Bayou knows this, even if only implicitly, is a gift unto itself. A gift far greater than the tickets themselves.

But lest I begin to drown you all in treacly sentiment…

GOOOOOOOOOO SEAHAWKS!