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9:04 a.m. - August 28, 2006
Up All Night?
The weekend was a pretty nifty one, when all was said and done.

Yes, I survived “Liz Day”, which stretched into “Liz Night” as she decided to go rent a room and indulge herself in a whirlpool suite. But the girls and I were fine and dandy and had a great day. Katie and I had a successful baking project. Kristin ate her food, drank her milk and prevented me from napping on the love seat as she kept running over to give me stuff.

The highlight of Saturday, to me, was after watching more of the first day of MTV, Katie ran around for a while singing, “Cruel to be kind, in the right measure.” My daughter, the Nick Lowe fan at 4 ½! That’s me girl!

Yesterday was a pretty darn good day even if I had a bit of caffeinated coffee (as you have read, I’m basically off the stuff for the most part) and talked a blue streak in Sunday school, but I was allowed to nap before this dinner that I had to attend.

The dinner was great – it was a welcome back dinner for sophomores to introduce them to a program that we have started to have them think about what it means to be Wabash alumni even before they graduate. Of course, we fed them, and that always draws a crowd.

Liz was awfully sweet to me as well on Sunday night, as I was cleaning up the kitchen and doing my laundry.

But there was Friday night. Friday night in Danville, Indiana. What could be better?

I had to cover a high school game there. Danville is a town about the size of Crawfordsville, but it’s closer to Indianapolis, and it doesn’t have a college. To get from Crawfordville to Danville is not easy, because there’s not a direct road there. It’s a right turn, and there’s a desperate need to a hypotenuse to connect the towns.

Wait, that would mean people would WANT to get to Danville. Eh, never mind.

The trip got off to a bad start when not four blocks from my house, I saw rollers in my rear view mirror. I pulled over and the cop said I was moving at a high rate of speed by the IGA, and asked me where I was going. I said exactly what I was doing, and he took my license.

About a minute later, he comes back, hands me my license and in a resigned voice said, “Slow down for me, would you.”

It pays to have friends. The second shift supervisor on duty is enrolled in the Leadership Academy with me, so thanks dude!

So, I’m on I-74 and take the exit at Lizton, State Road 39, to get to Danville. I saw at THE stoplight in Lizton that 39 was closed up ahead, and the detour took you on US 136. I knew what the detour was; go to Jamestown then down to North Salem and over. I didn’t have time for that – so I had to pray that I could navigate country roads in Hendricks County to get there.

Well, after a couple of false starts, including one where I accidentally drove to a gated house (the road didn’t have a “No Outlet” sign – and what kind of person that has enough money for an estate like that lives in LIZTON??), I found my way around the detour and motivated my way to Danville.

Normally, I like to be at a game 15 minutes or so early, but I missed the kickoff because of my shenanigans.

The game dragged a bit, and Crawfordsville lost on some big plays. But the coach gave a good interview and I had a good angle on the game for my story. So I was off again to C’ville.

I did need to get gas, so I stopped at a convenience store. I was thirsty from the nachos I ate at the game, so I went in and bought a fountain coke.

Uh, why did I do that?
I quote from the essay I linked earlier: “And I know if I have just one fountain Coke, for old time’s sake – then I’ll have another and another and well, there you go. I’ll be face down in the street – my mouth covered with the pure fountain Coke syrup – dazed and confused – pleading for some carbonated water so I could mix my own….”


Stoopid Smed.


I picked my way through the country roads, got to Lizton (trivia: it’s the world’s ONLY Lizton, BTW) and went home, drinking the coke and thinking of the story.


When I got home, it was a bit late, and Liz was in bed. I went to see her and she said, “Don’t be up so late tonight, OK.” The last Friday I stayed up way way too late.


I go grab a beverage or two, and go about compiling the box score and writing the story. I email it in, and then cruise around the net for a while to be sure that there’s no issue with it.


Since I attend the Leadership Academy on Friday afternoon, I get behind a bit in my internetting on Fridays. So I was checking my personal email accounts, my work email account, Deadspin, Fark, ESPN, Diaryland, MySpace and my baseball discussion forums.


I also went on iTunes to rearrange a playlist and look for some songs to buy.

I was feeling buzzed and alive. Of course, I was on the juice, baby.


I mean, I hadn’t even gone ON to those sites that I’m not supposed to go onto, hint, hint.


Then I hear this voice. It was an irritated voice. A voice that is well schooled in discipline.


Then I looked at the clock on the computer.


Oh, crap.


Damn you caffeine! Damn you! Damn you!

 

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