Todd came back from the farm yesterday to play a couple games of hockey. [I am unsurprised.] He called me last night around 9:00, as he was leaving the Iceplex, wondering where I was. At the time, I was standing in the SGA office. [I am unsurprised.] We made plans to meet up at the Club and catch up over a pizza.

The fact that Domino’s might not be open on a Sunday night wasn’t apparent to us as we made such decisions. So as we grumbled and mumbled, I caught Todd up on the happenings of the weekend. I succesfully donated the $10 end table I got for my senior year at MSMS to one of Blake’s old roommates; Todd laughed heartily at that, especially when I told him Tim wanted to give me money for it. Todd asked what I said; I replied, “You know, I figured I’d gotten my ten dollars out of it a long, long time back there. I told him if he could get it off of my porch, he could have it.”

We talked further, and then it occurred to me: Todd wouldn’t have heard about Blake’s aborted trip to Virginia. So I relayed the details as I knew them: a major wreck occurred on the Interstate just in front of where Blake was, with a car coming down from the higher, westbound lanes over onto the lower, eastbound lanes. [Blessedly, only the flying car's occupant passed on: he was drunk, of course, but this was on a Friday in the early afternoon ... -sigh-]

One of the local LifeFlight choppers–perhaps Huntsville’s, but I never found out–came by to take care of anyone they could. The woman whose car was crushed by the drunken, flying Wallendawagon had to be extricated first–a procedure that eventually took three hours–and in the process of extrication, the tow truck pulling the Wallendawagon down clipped the chopper … which, of course, caused more fun. Eventually, the entire wreck was cleared, but it took Blake over six hours to get home, where it’s usually just a two-and-a-half hour trip.

With that, Blake decided not to try to make the tryout. It would have involved driving to Virginia through the night, and that wasn’t optimal. So he called in to the folks, told them a family friend had died [which had indeed happened earlier in the week], and he’ll now be sending a tape in to the team.

Finishing the story, I looked at Todd and said, “You know, though, if it were me, I’d think God was trying to tell me something.”

Todd: “You think? If that crap happened to me, I’d decide it wasn’t to be.”

Signs: they’re all around us, and do we read them?