With just a month to go until my wedding, we successfully purchased a new car, a new house, moved into that house and continued wedding preparation. Oh, yeah, and there’s that company to run in there somewhere. But somehow (I might say by the grace of God, but credit might actually have to go to long days, sore backs and good friends), we have managed to do it all. So with three weeks to go until the big day, what to do?

Vacation!

I don’t vacation nearly as much as I should. I guess the big factor is time. 365 takes a lot of time and it just keeps getting bigger, which is great, but time doesn’t seem to grow with it. Recently Tim Brechlin started doing the building of this paper and gave me back some semblance of a weekend, though the reins are not easy to hand over. It’s my baby. But so far it seems like it’s in good hands. So get the heck out of Dodge!

Actually, I didn’t just decide to up and bolt. I had a reason to go. My best friend since before we knew what girls were, as I said in a toast to him this weekend, got married in Colorado. As busy as I am, I swore I’d find a way to get there. So on Thursday I tied up about a hundred loose ends, left a score of notes for work to be completed while I was gone and packed up the shiny new Nissan Altima I wrote about last issue (I just didn’t tell you what I bought) and hit the road. We decided not to rush there in one day. We were going to take our time.

We probably should have rushed.

There’s a big odd, empty void between the rolling hills of Dubuque and the majestic mountains of northern Colorado. I guess they call it Nebraska. Knowing we would be stopping for the night about two-thirds of the way there, we took our time, having meals along the way and stopping to take turns driving, etc. That sounds easy enough. Perhaps you’ve never been to Nebraska.

Our first attempt at stopping found us at a gas station which was completely out of gas except for Super Ultimate. I’m not paying $5 a gallon for gas. So we hopped down the road to the only other station we could find in this not-an-oasis of a stopping point. It was clearly a former Pizza Hut. Now, it is a convenience station with a big professionally made sign above the front door that said “YOU ARE NOWHERE.” Thanks, but I didn’t need a sign to tell me that. Next to the station was a business with a title along the lines of Big Dave’s Construction, Lingerie and Novelty Items. No one under 17 permited. It was a pink and purple building that was possibly once a Bob’s Big Boy. How nice.

A few completely forgettable hours down the road, we stopped for dinner. We were trying to find a place to eat that wasn’t Mexican. I like Mexican very much, just not on an extended drive, if you get my drift. The first place we could find was Tommy’s Family Restaurant: I kid you not, also formerly a Pizza Hut. In hindsight, it should have remained a Pizza Hut. Strike two for our journey.

Thankfully our stopover was at a Holiday Inn Express, and apparently that had some national standards to uphold, as it was without incident. It was also the only decent night’s sleep I had all weekend. You see, not only is the air thin up in the mountains and you feel tired after walking up the stairs to the guest room (er, I should say Ranchhand room -- definitely not a suite), it is also excessively dry. So I pretty much spent the weekend tired. But at least the company was good and the scenery was beautiful. We came out of the wilderness one day for lunch in Estes Park and I saw the hotel that inspired the movie The Shining. When it came time to come home, we agreed we’d do it in one shot and ended up only stopping twice, once for gas and once for bladder relief.

The moral to this story is, there is no such thing as a quaint jaunt across Nebraska taking in unique dining opportunities and interesting venues. Just put the pedal to the floor and pray to God you have an iPod with a good audiobook loaded up. Or just fly, but who can afford to do that these days?

Back home by 10 p.m. last night, I slept like the dead. It was glorious. Unfortunately I had to be up early to meet the cable installer who thankfully came at the front of his 8 - 11 a.m. installation window. I don’t know what you do for a living, but when I don’t have Internet for two weeks and I can’t even watch the news, I start to twitch. I missed a Democratic convention, a hurricane and who knows what else. I also missed the Throwdown on the River BBQ cook-off. That was painful. It’s like my mecca. But friends come first, I guess. Maybe Grand Harbor G.M. Steve Geisz saved me some brisket.

I have three weeks to finish unpacking, painting and planning before I tie the knot. Let’s see what I can get myself into before then.

By the way, we’re still days away from this issue hitting the streets and already the current issue is gone about everywhere. Just like they have been all summer. Thank you for that. We appreciate you reading the Ink. If you can’t find us at your normal favorite spot, just look around town a bit. We’re just about everywhere, except Nebraska, of course. There is noithing there.