Early-bird Special

I was up this morning at 5:45 AM.  The last time that happened it was for softball.  According to some old notes of mine, we all got up at 4:45 one fine June morning for a Saturday tournament in (not so) beautiful Kankakee, an hour-plus south of Chicago.  Our first game was scheduled for 7:30, and everybody had to be there an hour before game time, everybody, that is, except for the coaches.  They got to be late and not have to run laps.

But today the daddy taxi went in the opposite direction, to O’Hare Airport, so Clare could catch an early flight to Syracuse and spend the weekend with her boyfriend, Chris.  Let me just say that I hate bumper-to-bumper traffic at 60 MPH.  You count your blessings, though.  God and nature didn’t see fit to throw in a little rain.

And the real silver lining is we had the whole day to play.  Michele took some time off so we made our way to the far northern reaches of Cook County, where the Chicago Botanic Garden is located.  Smelling the roses may not count as sports, but beating the $25 parking fee does.  We parked in a nearby forest preserve and walked in; for some reason, pedestrians are let in free.  At least I thought it was close by.  We spent over an hour walking each way, on top of the time spent exploring the garden.  In my house, this kind of activity is known as Doug’s version of the Bataan Death March.  How people exaggerate.  Everyone who started on our little march finished.  Maybe not everyone is talking to me, but they lived.