The best thing about moving to Georgia? Not having to drive through Iowa to get home. Today’s adventure was ridiculously long with the worst I-80 traffic I’ve ever seen. It was worse going west though, so I guess I won’t complain.

But it’s good to see some family and friends again before the move. And it gave me ample time to compile some thoughts during the seven hours and 25 minutes between Lincoln and the Park. Said thoughts would include:

** There were at least three grave errors in decision making when I previously posted the list of songs that are to be played at my wake. Now, I originally said that it wasn’t a complete list and that there were possibly tens of songs that should be added. So I’ll give myself a break when it comes to specifics. But after driving more than seven hours today and listening to music for half of it, it became clear that I would be providing a disservice to myself if some Kid Rock, possibly the most under-appreciated artist in the past 15 years, was not on the original list. Anything from ‘Devil Without a Cause’ would suffice, but ‘Cowboy’ would be appropriate as I’ll probably be somewhere with “a flag saying chillin the most” and mocking everyone at the wake.  On the other end of the spectrum, I may change the last song to one that’s extremely dear to my heart, but not one heard that often, with Steve Goodman’s ‘Go Cubs Go.’

** Speaking of the Cubs, I wish I had XM instead of Sirius (I know, I could get it but whatever). But today I was able to rock old school by listening to scratchy radio. I picked up three different stations in three parts of Iowa that cobbled together about eight innings of the game, enough that I heard all the good parts, which for once wasn’t just one inning. Helluva game today. I better watch Saturday since it’s almost a guarantee that it will be historic, as we’ll probably be no-hit.

** Once again, I amazed my wife. This would be the fourth straight driving trip to the Park that I didn’t realize I didn’t have any cash until I got into Illinois. Now, my Nebraska friends may be wondering what the big deal is with that. Tolls. No, not trolls, as many seem to think I run with, or actually am. But tolls. As in, need cash to continue to keep moving forward. The last time I directly thought about bringing money for them was 2007. So, as has become custom, today I had to pull over at a rest stop, rummage through my bags and car to find enough change for the $1.90 and two $0.60 tolls to reach home.

** Pickles in a bag. Never seen them before, but witnessed one at the gas station about two minutes from my parent’s house. No thanks. But interesting conversation as I bought a beer. “Can I see some ID?,” the cashier lady says. Grunt, me. “Okay. Nebraska. Lincoln. Wow. Guess you don’t look it,” cashier. Hermmm, me. “My husband’s from near Lincoln. Waverly. What are you doing around here?” “I’m from here,” me. “He didn’t sound that enthused about saying he’s from here,” other cashier chick. “No he didn’t,” first cashier. “And you are?,” me. Walked out.

** I still can’t remember the third song that I know I missed from the first list.

**I found out I’m carrying on a great tradition. I’m soon to be unemployed, joining at least four close family members. So I got that going for me. Should be a great Saturday night in the Park.