One more day
posted by David Cloninger, 8/03/2009 10:05:00 AM
----------------------------- A3
The warm, squishy feeling flowed into my stomach and the grits were still boiling on the stove. Fearing the worst, I rushed to take my temperature.
The readout was 98.6, as usual. The U.S. Naval Observatory uses me as the standard to set its clock.
As I pondered what bug I’d picked up now – a two-mile run every day does wonders but when you’re breathing hard going uphill, it’s hard to keep your mouth shut and thus avoid swallowing flying insects – I stirred the grits (no lumps!) and checked my calendar.
Dentist isn’t till next week (call in sick!) Dad’s birthday not for three weeks (new fishing pole or that ’33 Ford grille he’s been searching for?) Message to call my ex-girlfriend when I forget I am a self-absorbed jackass and need to be reminded (4 p.m.)
Finding no reason to be apprehensive or excited, I wondered what the cause of the feeling in my stomach could be. Nothing unusual or off the beaten path, except for that notation for Tuesday, which read, “Prac1.” Shorthand writing will add years to your life, but trying to decipher it after you write it is sometimes akin to 11th-grade trig (C-, and I was lucky to get that).
I let the grits sit too long and they were tougher than a four-dollar steak. I wasn’t sick, wasn’t expecting anything momentous, didn’t forget to pay the rent or the cable bill.
I slapped my forehead in unison with the bread erupting from the toaster. Of course.
Tuesday is the first day of football practice. What threw me off was the feeling of being out there on the fields had been absent for so long I didn’t recognize it.
I should have guessed it would be back eventually. It always comes around this time of year, that mixture of nervousness, thrills, memories and hope associated with South Carolina football. Before I knew it, I began daydreaming of the next six months.
A lot of work, sure. But it’s easy once you get into a routine, as an inspiration taught me and reminded me of last week.
There will be a few days where it’s 7 a.m.-2 a.m. the next day, because there will be some earth-shattering tidbits around the scheduled stuff. Beats roofing barns in Texas for a summer.
My list of storylines for the preseason is already past my mid-forearm and threatening my bicep (Hulk Hogan I ain’t). When I get an idea, I write it on the back of my left hand, which is certainly not as weird as some of the other things I do.
Check into making plane reservations for Pasadena, Calif., the first week of January. It could happen. I want it almost as much as the fans do – never been to the Rose Bowl and it’s on the list of football stadiums I must see before I take up the rocker.
That feeling was like a heated tube sock wrapped around my liver. Wouldn’t stay in one place, either. I was bouncing around like a 12-year-old girl at a Jonas Brothers “concert.”
T-minus 33 hours and counting. Tranquilizers are a marvelous invention.
See you on Tuesday.
Link to this entry - Discuss this entry - Return to Blog Home
“Woke up this morning.”
----------------------------- A3
The warm, squishy feeling flowed into my stomach and the grits were still boiling on the stove. Fearing the worst, I rushed to take my temperature.
The readout was 98.6, as usual. The U.S. Naval Observatory uses me as the standard to set its clock.
As I pondered what bug I’d picked up now – a two-mile run every day does wonders but when you’re breathing hard going uphill, it’s hard to keep your mouth shut and thus avoid swallowing flying insects – I stirred the grits (no lumps!) and checked my calendar.
Dentist isn’t till next week (call in sick!) Dad’s birthday not for three weeks (new fishing pole or that ’33 Ford grille he’s been searching for?) Message to call my ex-girlfriend when I forget I am a self-absorbed jackass and need to be reminded (4 p.m.)
Finding no reason to be apprehensive or excited, I wondered what the cause of the feeling in my stomach could be. Nothing unusual or off the beaten path, except for that notation for Tuesday, which read, “Prac1.” Shorthand writing will add years to your life, but trying to decipher it after you write it is sometimes akin to 11th-grade trig (C-, and I was lucky to get that).
I let the grits sit too long and they were tougher than a four-dollar steak. I wasn’t sick, wasn’t expecting anything momentous, didn’t forget to pay the rent or the cable bill.
I slapped my forehead in unison with the bread erupting from the toaster. Of course.
Tuesday is the first day of football practice. What threw me off was the feeling of being out there on the fields had been absent for so long I didn’t recognize it.
I should have guessed it would be back eventually. It always comes around this time of year, that mixture of nervousness, thrills, memories and hope associated with South Carolina football. Before I knew it, I began daydreaming of the next six months.
A lot of work, sure. But it’s easy once you get into a routine, as an inspiration taught me and reminded me of last week.
There will be a few days where it’s 7 a.m.-2 a.m. the next day, because there will be some earth-shattering tidbits around the scheduled stuff. Beats roofing barns in Texas for a summer.
My list of storylines for the preseason is already past my mid-forearm and threatening my bicep (Hulk Hogan I ain’t). When I get an idea, I write it on the back of my left hand, which is certainly not as weird as some of the other things I do.
Check into making plane reservations for Pasadena, Calif., the first week of January. It could happen. I want it almost as much as the fans do – never been to the Rose Bowl and it’s on the list of football stadiums I must see before I take up the rocker.
That feeling was like a heated tube sock wrapped around my liver. Wouldn’t stay in one place, either. I was bouncing around like a 12-year-old girl at a Jonas Brothers “concert.”
T-minus 33 hours and counting. Tranquilizers are a marvelous invention.
See you on Tuesday.
Link to this entry - Discuss this entry - Return to Blog Home
Previous Blog Entries
David Cloninger. David is a full-time staff writer for GamecockCentral, and covers Gamecock football, men's basketball, baseball and recruiting. He may be reached by email at david(at)gamecockcentral.com. Replace (at) with @.