It’s a big day. The NFC Championship game. The Vikings are in New Orleans and my Facebook News Feed is a amalgamation of Who Dat and Skol Vikings.

Early in the season, Aaron and I discussed what we would do if the Vikings made it all the way to the Super Bowl. We’d go, of course. We’d figure it out, book a cheap hotel room, find tickets online. (Since we’re season ticket holders, we would be entered in a ticket lottery, but like all lotteries the chances of actually winning=minuscule.) My husband has been waiting his entire life for this (no stretch), so we’d at least try to make it there. (Several weeks ago he shook his head and smiled. I asked him what he was thinking about, and he said, “That fat little 5-year-old kid who watched the Vikings on a tiny black-and-white TV? Well all his dreams are coming true.”)

But life is different for us now than it was in September. I just had surgery and we’re building a house, so no last minute expensive Florida trips are in the works.

One of A’s fraternity buddies is in the Big Easy right now, and I wish we were too. But we already have a trip planned for the Crescent City in May, for a wedding. (And again, I just had surgery.)

I love New Orleans. It’s where my brother was born. It’s a place my parents were in love. It’s a city of music and food and history and personal memories and incredible loss and heartache.

But today I only have one thing to say to the city I have long loved: WE dat.

Pack some swim trunks, Favre. I hear Miami is nice this time of year.

Skol.