>You might be a Green Bay Packer Fan if your husband wears a pair of these Packer booty slippers when he’s relaxing on the couch.
As of today, Brett Favre has never lost in Monster Park (by any name). He is seven touchdown passes shy of reaching Dan Marino’s career record. But does he have a cute pair of slippers like this? I doubt it.
>You might be a Green Bay Packer fan if something like this adorns your shelves next to the Lambeau Legends DVD. Amigo calls this little guy Hank. La Petite calls him “hideous”. He sings (loudly) and dances. The song? The “All My Rowdy Friends” song from Monday Night Football, of course! 
>
You might be a Green Bay Packer fan if you can dress like this for work, and not only is it considered completely appropriate, your boss compliments you on your new attire. (The boss, by the way, was dressed in a Brett Favre jersey and khaki pants.)
>You might be a Green Bay Packers fan —
— to toe.
(I must clarify: dressing in team colors occurs whether the team is winning or not, through thick and thin.)
>You might be a Green Bay Packer fan — if your Cheesehead doesn’t hide in a closet, but shares an honored space on the piano with the music.
>You might be a Green Bay Packer fan if:
Here’s the story on this one, modeled by Amigo, age 14.
A few years ago, I was wandering our downtown shops with my brother and his wife, buying a few Christmas presents. Our downtown has mainly small shops, very amenable to browsing, many family-owned and staffed. We saw this t-shirt hanging in the window of a shop that specialized in collectibles and knick-knacks. It was a little out of character for the shop, but it caught our attention.
“Hey, brother, Dad would wear this.”
“Um, but I already bought him a present from the bookstore. So did you.”
“My kids don’t have anything for him yet. They’ll love it.”
“You two need to buy this. Your dad would definitely wear it.”
So we headed into the store, asked for the Cheesehead shirt in a large, and the owner found one and wrapped it up for us. As he did so, he told us a story. Brett Favre and his mother, Bonita, had a new book out (Yes, I own a copy). Bonita had been at the bookstore down the street for an autograph session just a few weeks earlier. One of the fans in line had been wearing a shirt like this. She laughed at the image, said she loved it, and asked where he’d bought it. She then sent a family member down the street to buy a St. Brett shirt for her and one for her sister.
We included a note with the gift telling our Dad that he was in good company, that Brett’s mom and aunt both owned shirts just like his. He was thrilled.
Dad passed away last December. We went through his Packer apparel (he had a lot!) and divided it up between us. Amigo now proudly wears the St. Brett, Patron Saint of Cheeseheads. And when people tell him how cool it is, he responds with a thanks and an acknowledgement that yes, if Mom Favre can wear one, it must be cool.
>You might be a Green Bay Packer fan if:
(Okay, for those not in the know, the record-holding quarterback’s name is Favre, pronounced ‘Farv’)
>Love is:
–coming home from college for the weekend to carve a pumpkin.
>When we married so many years ago, Husband and I discovered that our sports fanaticism was at different levels. Like many couples, we learned to live with that. But it’s not what you might think. It wasn’t the wife learning to live with the husband’s addiction; it was the Husband learning to live with mine.
In high school, my friends liked the quarterback that was “cute”. I liked the one who could pass.
In college, I stunned one of my male friends by knowing more Green Bay Packer trivia than he did.
When we got married, my Husband discovered he could sit down and watch the game with me or do something on his own on Sunday afternoons. Making the obvious choice, he gradually learned the game at my side.
We’d been married two years when we moved to Green Bay and rented a duplex (be still my heart) almost next door to Lambeau Field, directly across the street from the Packers’ practice field. The landlord didn’t know it, but I would have paid almost any rent for the view from that front porch. .
La Petite learned to ride a bike in the stadium’s parking lot. We flew kites there. I pushed the kids’ strollers in Lambeau’s shade on many evening walks. I love the roomy home we live in now, in a nearby town, but I sincerely miss the location of that tiny duplex. The Lambeau Field neighborhood had an atmosphere, an aura of its own.
Eventually, Husband put his technical skills to use in television broadcasting. He decided that since he didn’t get much of my attention on Sundays, he might as well work. Well, now he works in the crew on the sidelines of the Packers’ home football games, and I’m envious because he’s closer to the games than I am.
Ah, well, all’s fair in love, war, and NFL football. Go Pack Go!