This weekend totally kicked my ass.

Friday.

I woke up in Council Grove and did portraits for the Bravettes, the dance team at my old high school, and drove back up to Manhattan because I had many things planned for that afternoon and evening.

First, at 2:30 was the annual spring softball game between members of the Student Governing Association and the Collegian Staff. We won, 11-7. I played a whole half an inning in center field. Didn't even have a real chance to touch the ball. I don't want to say anymore about it.

At 5:30 was the annual Student Publications Banquet. There were awards for Royal Purple, the Ad staff and finally for Newsroom staff.

Our wonderful adviser Kim started talking about a certain staff writer who she said had done a great deal of work toward informing the public and serving readers. She started listing several stories this writer had done in the past year.

A story explaining that despite Manhattan water's foul taste, it really is safe to consume.

"Funny," I thought, "That sounds like something I did last fall."

A story that described the true creator of the Powercat, who is not Bill Snyder.

"Oh my God," I thought then, "I wrote about that last week. She's talking about me!"

I closed my eyes, covered my mouth and tried to keep my heartrate at a safe level while Kim talked about more of my best stories and said all these wonderul things about me that I had no idea how to handle.

Then Kim announced that I'd earned the Kelly Furnas Readership Service Award. I got out of my chair and approached the table, unsure if I was walking proud or stumbling all over the place. It was just too much to take, I thought I'd been a lousy reporter all year, and here I was being told I'd done a model job. I damn near cried.

I hugged Kim and accepted my award, which I later found comes with a $100 scholarship. The money, interestingly enough, comes from a fund set up by the Scripps Howard Foundation when Mr. Furnas received an award from them years ago. It appears the organization I have to thank for the best three months of my life so far is still getting involved with my life. Perhaps it's a sign of where my career might go after graduation.

So my name now rests on a plaque in Kedzie Hall along with past receipients of the Furnas Award, like Jesse Manning and James Hurla. I feel so special.

After the banquet I visited a friend buried not far from the hotel where we had the dinner, the same as I had done after last year's dinner. I told her what had happened and what I'm looking forward to for this fall. I said some prayers and bid her goodbye.

I saw something that made me stop in my tracks as I rounded one of the last turns out of the cemetery. There were three white-tailed deer, does, standing by the fence surrounding Sunrise Cemetery. I shut off my car, stepped out and took a few steps toward them, off the pavement and onto the grass. I stopped and watched for a few seconds, then some bird spooked them and they tore off into the woods. It was really inspiring.

I went up to one of the groups of apartments on the northwest side of campus to meet a girl. She'd been talking to me more often recently and with a tone of voice that suggested interest, and taken a few other actions I can't publish here that were strong indicators she had something in mind.

Those indicators were wrong, I now realize, but at least I don't have to sit around wondering what would've happened had I just gone home.

Saturday

Busy. Freaking. Day.

I got up late in the morning because I knew I had a lot to do. My official day started with a meeting at noon with the fall Collegian editors to discuss plans for, well, this fall. We made progress and I'm glad I went, except for that it was at Panera Bread. I hate that place.

Then I had work: From 2:00 on I was the wedding photographer for the newly-wed Mr. and Mrs. Bruce Boos. I worked straight on till 8:30 with only a pause for a light meal and some cake. One terrifying moment came as I was trying to get past a parked stroller that wouldn't move. I pushed harder, thinking the brake was on, then discovered some moron had parked it literally on top of an ice bucket with two open bottles of champagne. They covered it with the handle and the clothes wrapped around the back.

The bottles went down onto the floor as I gasped, "Oh Dear God!" and righted them, but not before they leaked a bit onto the floor, along with ice and water from the bucket. I didn't feel bad for taking pictures and not drinking during the toast, I figured I'd already pourd the Booses a fine libation.

Around 10:00, I had two ice cold beers. Believe me, nothing feels as good after long hours doing
hard work as ice cold beer. Every job would be easier if you knew that cold beer was waiting at the end of it, every one. There should be could beer at the ends of marathons, not gatorade. I went home and got to work on processing and posting the images, which brings me to:

Sunday.

I went to bed a little before two after getting the upload started on more than 1 GB of images (210) to my Web site. I slept, and when I got up at 8, they had finished. I posted them in a new gallery and showered. I left at 9AM for Council Grove for another photo job, First Communion at St. Rose.

Once that work was done, I took the afternoon off to relax. I watched TV and went for a walk with my little brother, Neal. I taught him the basics of using my old Canon AE-1P and he shot off an entire roll of Gekko B & W 400. It was good fun for brothers, I'll see how the shots turn out later this week.

Oh, and to top it all off, this is my 600th post to this blog.