By Mike Pound
It’s 80 degrees outside as I type this, and according to the National Weather Service, there is the potential for some snow late Thursday night or early Friday.
Everyone loves a white May Day, so instead our weather decides to snow just after May Day.
Who doesn’t tear up every time Bing Crosby sings, “I’m dreaming of a white May Day ... just like the ones I used to say ...”?
OK, give me a break. I’m a newspaper columnist, not a songwriter.
I’m not saying that this has been a strange spring, but Punxsutawney Phil is getting out of the shadow business and going to work for CNN.
“At least there, nobody cares if you’re right or wrong,” Phil would have said if he weren’t a groundhog.
My wife had a work-related event Saturday, so I decided to be a nice guy and haul all of the plants out of our shed. The reason the plants were in the shed is that we had to put them there because of the cold weather earlier in the week. It was the third time we had to put the plants inside.
I remember when my wife first brought the plants home a couple of weeks ago.
“Do you think it’s too early to put these out?” my wife asked me.
“Are you kidding?” I said. “It’s the middle of April. You’ll be fine.”
By the way, I also predicted that Tim Tebow would do well in the NFL, and I said Congress couldn’t get any worse.
I’m not good with predicting things, is what I’m saying.
But really, who saw winter in April coming? Snow this late in the spring is fine ... if you live in Siberia.
We don’t live in Siberia.
By the way, when folks in Siberia want to make a joke about living in a horrible, cold, desolate place, which place do they pick? Imagine living in a place so bad that people in Siberia feel sorry for you.
Now, before I start getting nasty emails from people in Siberia, I need to say that I’m sure Siberia is a lovely place if you like cold weather. It’s just that I don’t like cold weather. So really, Siberia, it isn’t you, it’s me.
It was nice enough outside Sunday for me to give our German shepherd, Shilo, a bath. Before I gave Shilo a bath, I brushed enough fur off her to make a coat for Rush Limbaugh.
Of course, now it’s supposed to get cold, and perhaps it will snow later this week, so I’m feeling sort of bad about Shilo’s fur loss.
Later in the day, my wife and our 15-year-old daughter, Emma, went into the backyard to try to get some sun. I thought it would be nice if I joined them so we could have some quality family time. But I also thought it would be nice if I went inside and watched the St. Louis Cardinals on TV.
Guess which I chose.
To be honest, I’m pretty sure my wife and Emma were fine with me watching baseball and not bothering them.
I don’t sun well. Well, actually, I do sun well, which is why my wife and Emma probably didn’t want me bothering them. My wife and Emma are sort of fair-skinned, so it takes them a long time to tan. I get tanned lighting a match.
This doesn’t sit well with my wife and Emma.
“It’s not fair,” Emma says. “You are always dark.”
I tell Emma not to hate me because I’m beautiful, but she just stares at me because she is too young to remember the commercial I’m quoting.
I just checked the weather forecast again, and snow is still possible Thursday night.
But then I turned on CNN, and Punxsutawney Phil said it would 85 degrees on Thursday.
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