OK, so it’s the seventh of freakin’ APRIL…and it’s 39 degrees outside. I feel like I’m back in Portland, and it might just be snowing somewhere between Conroe and College Station. Three days ago it was 83 degrees, and today I’m wearing a sweat shirt (cue the James Inhofe “global warming, my @$$” clip….)
Tomorrow supposed to be even colder. Yikes….
‘Course, I’m not one to complain about a little cold weather, not after I saw that the Cleveland Indians’ home opener was snowed out in the top of the fifth inning when Paul Byrd, the Indians’ pitcher, complained that he could see his catcher’s glove through the snowflakes.
Three months from now, I’ll be whining about the heat, the humidity, and the mosquitoes…so I think I’ll be able to handle a couple days of what passes for winter here. Still, I shouldn’t be able to see my breath when I’m standing on my deck in April….
