The decision was made late Saturday afternoon that Saturdays until mid-June are going to be hectic. Baseball season has begun; along with golf season and learning how to drive season. I spent the better part of Saturday afternoon behind the wheel carting kids from here to there. Throw in a trip to Walgreens, a "quick" run to the cemetery and picking up dinner around seven--is it any wonder I was passed out on the couch by 8:30 in the evening?
I found that there is so much to see, along with plenty of entertainment, out on the street--if the driver is observant. It was just me, my radio and the road...which I had all four eyes on...trust me, I took it all in.
FORE...the morning began like any other springtime Saturday...driving the future of the PGA to meet his ride to Old Oak. But hours before that excitement takes place--we must prepare. Four o'clock a.m. comes early...and the TVs are tuned to the weather channel while doplar radar is summoned via internet.
Where are the clouds? Will they bring rainfall? Does the temperature indicate a frost delay? Once we have Mother Nature's blessing upon the day all attention shifts to wardrobe.
Saturday's crisp wind indicates long johns are in order--and wearing a turtleneck means the "lucky pink polo" stays in the closet until next week--if you ask me, it should have been banished to the rag pile fifteen rounds ago. The shirt is so faded it no longer matches the color of the collar--and washed so many times--it can be mistaken as a midrif-bearing-shirt suitable to compliment a belly-piercing if need be.
After the pants have creases ironed just so, the clubs get wiped and the four sleeves of balls, that will no doubt be given back to the course, are opened and placed in the zipped pouch of the golf bag. One more once over in the mirror and the weekly insertion of contacts mean it's time to leave.
The weather was gorgeous...
it's simply gorgeous this Spring. All the trees are in bloom...daffodils and tulips are popping up all around lawns in Orland Park...the weeds are beginning to sprout outside the Police Department, the birds have arrived back from the south--yep--it's officially Spring...I drove around yesterday trying to remember a Spring so warm this early and so beautiful...it's been a long time..seems winter last year lasted until mid-June. I opened the windows and smelled the fresh cut grass--I'll suffer the effects of allergies--the smells and sights yesterday were so worth it.
Flags were a-flying...
I haven't enjoyed this much patriotism since September 12, 2001. Only catch was the flags flying were honoring the dead Polish President not the stars and stripes of the good old USA.
I find myself knee-deep in the mourning process--and it's not by choice. Had I asked the Polock I'm married to, if he (or any of his fellow countrymen for that matter) knew the name of the head of Poland before April 10th--I'd have gotten nothing more than a clueless shrug.
After April 10th--suddenly they're completely informed--and of course grieving. Let the red and white flags fly--from front porches...flag poles...car windows...and don't forget the black ribbon--proves you're super sad and gravely grieving.
Little League is in full swing. Yesterday marked the first "scrimmage game" for my youngest, Quincy. Scrimmage is as good as official...all the boys had on their uniforms...the first game of the season marks the day the uniform will be it's cleanest. I had to drop him at Centennial 3 by ten only to rush home to pick up the oldest for drivers ed which was at the other end of town at eleven.
After I dropped the older one off, I could head back south to watch the end of the game. I love the beginning of the season--the boys have a clean slate in front of them and they arrive with such anticipation.
And, of course, the little league shuffle--you know you've seen it before--the boys seem to walk so gingerly--trying to get used to the new cleats on their feet and the cup of plastic shoved in a contraption between their legs...it's as if their knees are not capeable of bending as they stiffly shuffle toward the baseball field. And every few steps they stop--grab--and adjust...then the shuffle continues.
I dropped the kid off and rushed home to grab the soon-to-be-driver and head to the north end of town. Before we arrived at the driving school, a quick stop at Chase ATM -- soon-to-be-new-drivers get a break around noon and a treat at Smoothie Rox costs a mere five bucks. A quick drop and turn-around and I'm headed south on LaGrange back to Fun Drive.
I make it back to the field for the last inning. The Reds are up 13-9 and according to Quincy's coach the boy, his double, two walks and brace yourself, THREE steals were the highlights of the game. Three steals? My Kid? Previous coaches had laid down the law in earlier seasons--if there were more than one out, slow moving Quincy was forbidden to steal especially if the game were on the line. Speed along with his "fine coordination skills" are all courtesy of his mother. What a difference a year makes. This time last year I sat in the crowd and asked those around me who that kid running like Phoebe was ... this year I beamed as I announced Phoebe the base stealer was actually mine--enough excitement for now--we had to high-tail it home so Quincy could let the golfer in...his round would be over soon. And I had to head back north for the student driver.
The older kid and his empty smoothie cup along with information regarding a permit and magnetic student driver sign purchase were thrown on the front seat. Seems some north suburban mother had marketed a sign to alert experienced drivers on the road they were behind a newbie. I, too, have ideas. How about signage indicating "nervous mother aboard in process of a full-blown-stroke"? Now there is a money maker.
I headed home to drop this kid off, pick up one golfer and head to another part of town to pick up one mother-in-law and head for our weekly visit to the cemetery. We usually head there on Friday--but this week-in my continuing role as the butt of God's jokes--we headed there today--Saturday--because what else could I possibly have to do. A quick trip to Resurrection Cemetery, a tip of my hat to Resurrection Mary, a quick prayer, checked out any new neighbors, and off we flew to drop the mother-in-law back at home. I had to fly home to pick up the student driver and get him to the baseball field--practice from four until six.
I had an hour to kill, so it was off to Borders for the book Quincy had no intention to wait on the Library list for. Out of stock--off to Barnes & Noble--out of stock--back home we'd order it off the internet. Should ship in 24 hours--"does that mean I'll have it by tomorrow". Too many questions, Quincy, too many questions.
A pick up from the field--home for ice on the fat lip--a ground ball popped up out of nowhere--it's six fifteen, dinner has yet to be started, and guess what, Mom? Friends are coming over at six thirty. I called for Pizza pick-up, stopped for a case of 7-up, arrived home with a family sausage and two orders of cheesy bread. I fixed myself a plate, finished and sat down on the couch. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the cushion.
It seems the craziness never ends. Yep, I'm going to chalk Saturdays up to hectic. I've got the same schedule next week--seems the scrimmages are going to be opening day games--it's OYA picture day--and a first communion/party. I hope they are serving stiff drinks. Something tells me I'm going to need several.