F**k Winter

I grew up in North Dakota. I can remember getting off the bus in April on the first day that could be considered "warm" by North Dakota winter standards. I can remember getting off the bus on that day, walking not towards the house to watch Looney Tunes and Popeye and The Beverly Hillbillies that ran every afternoon on the station out of Fargo, but walking towards the garage. The garage where my bike lived.

On those days, those first warm days, the only place you could really ride was the big cement patio in front of our house. The gravel driveway and the rest of the world were still too sloppy and snowy to traverse. But the patio would melt early and a kid could ride around in circles, through the big cystalled snow that remained. Around and around in circles, I'd ride my bike over the same, snowy spots: wearing the snow out and spreading it out until it was helpless water under my bike's knobbies. Spring has busted a cap on y'all's ass, yo!

Katie couldn't get Max to come in today. The sun was setting and she still had to bribe him in with fruit snacks and "Here come the 123's!". Miles, who can't walk or talk, still managed to laugh and point at the last bit of snow, as it cowered in the shadiest part of the yard. Spring is finally here!