Growing up in Philly, there are certain things that are ingrained into your psyche at an early age. Cheesesteaks are always made with Cheez Whiz, it's perfectly normal to buy soft pretzels from homeless men on the side of the road, weekends are spent at "the shore," and the Dallas Cowboys are public enemy #1.

I can remember being on the school bus in 8th grade the Monday after an Eagles/Cowboys game. Whether you were a football fan or not, you knew what had happened the day before. The Eagles didn't fare as well against the Cowboys under Rich Kotite as they had against Buddy Ryan, and in 1993, during what would end up being a dismal 8-8 season, they lost both games against their archrival. Kids would shuffle onto the bus, still half asleep, and dissect Sunday's game and lament how, once again, the Cowboys came out on top.

Sitting dejectedly on that school bus on all those early mornings, writing "go eagles" on the foggy windows with my glove covered hand, I never imagined that one day I'd have a job that required me to spend a Saturday with 8 retired Dallas Cowboys and 10,000 Cowboy fans.

This past Saturday our radio station put on an event centered around the state of Texas' overzealous passion for football. There were former Cowboys signing autographs, Cowboys cheerleaders caked in makeup, Lombardi trophies on display, Super Bowl rings on site to gawk at, and a multitude of other football related activities. I was tearing tickets at the Charles Haley autograph line when a man complimented me on my tattoo. "Is that drawn on or is that a tattoo? That's really cool!"

I thanked him, and that's when I realized what was happening. The simple star tattoo on my wrist had been mistaken for a Cowboys tattoo. Oh, the humiliation. "It's a tattoo," I told him, "but it's not Cowboys related. I'm an Eagles fan." I smiled, knowing what was coming next. I always got a kick out of telling people I was from Philly. But this time I was surprised.

His face contorted in a way that human faces, with the exception of that of Derek Lowe, should not be able to. "Not Cowboys related?! But it's a Cowboys star!"

Now I was confused. Panic hit me. Could the tattoo artist in Rhode Island have been playing a cruel joke? Was he secretly a Cowboys fan out to ruin the lives of innocent and long-suffering Eagles fans? I regained my common sense, and reminded the man that stars are actually just shapes, a shape that the Cowboys adopted as their logo. "Naw, that's a Cowboys star! I can't believe a girl from Philly has a Cowboys star!" He was laughing, as were all of his blue-and-silver covered cronies.

There was nothing I could say. I let out a sigh and continued tearing tickets. Slightly varying versions of this happened twenty more times throughout the day. By the end of the event, I was completely defeated. This is Texas. It's the Cowboys' world. And I'm just living in it. And apparently, I've got the tattoo to prove it.
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Football season is now officially underway, and the Eagles got off to a good start, disposing of the Giants 31-17. McNabb completed 26 of 36 for 313 yards, and connected with T.O. for 3 touchdowns. Next up: Monday night vs Minnesota.

The strangest thing about living in Texas is that football is played in 90 degree weather. The start of football season has always meant long sleeves, comfort foods, and hot chocolate. Today I sat in the blistering Texas sun with a new book, and 20 pages in, had to come inside for a fear of melting away. Twenty minutes later, the Eagles game was underway. Autumn in Texas is wonderful, but it is still months away. It's been three years and I still can't comprehend it.

Next week I will turn the air conditioner on full blast, close the shades, and break out the pumpkin pie in a poor attempt to trick myself into believing the leaves are changing colors outside my front door.

Autumn has already begun on the east coast. The leaves are changing colors, sweaters are being dug out of closets, fireplaces are being lit, and teapots are boiling.

I love this time of year, even if it is 1,500 miles away.