Spring hopes

Sunday was spring.

There was hope in the air, so I breathed some in.  It felt good for my soul, so I breathed in some more.

I walked in the park.  People were stirring.  I guess they wanted some hope, too.

Suddenly, it seemed like this winter had lasted forever.

Wanting to take full advantage of the new weather, I fired up the grill for ribs, mushrooms, peppers, and potatoes.  After supper, we roasted marshmallows over the fire pit, then gathered around it for warmth as the night air grew chilly once again.

No matter how many years I file away, that first burst of spring always feels fresh and new all over again.  I think it always will.  I hope that it always does.

How does one describe that feeling?  How do you write a spring day?  For it is nothing you can hold in your hand.  It's something far better lived than imagined, breathed in than read, experienced than not.  But better it be written, than forgotten.

Just as September has that one day every year where fall announces its arrival with the first hint of a chill in the air, March has its own day, and spring, its own news to declare -- tidings of warmth, and yes, hope.

Sunday was that day.

Winter's cold had returned by Monday morn, but it was a different cold.  A sunny and bright crispness, rather than the usual gray and drear.

And there was hope.  The hope of spring.  The hope of something better.

And I knew that winter wouldn't be long.

"You only need the light when it's burning low / Only miss the sun when it starts to snow / Only know you love her when you let her go..."

Wonder whatever became of me?

Let's begin today with a little humor. Very little.

Phone call from Dad the other day:
"Did your sister tell you I'm getting an iPad?"
"What! No you are not."
"Yes, I am. I'm getting an iPad."
"Oh, Lord help us." (Thinking, how will he ever learn how to work it?)
"The doctor says I have cataracts, so after they do surgery I'm gonna have to wear an eye pad."

*smacking self on forehead*

These are my comedy roots. Knowing this, I think it's quite remarkable that I have ever made anyone laugh at all.

Easter has come and gone since the last time we commenced. Highlights included Nephew Bone hunting eggs. Although they weren't really hidden, they were just sort of strewn across the yard in plain view. Back when I used to hunt, the eggs were hard to find! They would be up in trees, across a busy street... Then again, I was thirty-six.

Then, of course, there's the Easter candy. How they came up with the combination of hiding eggs and eating candy I'll never know. Asking me to pick my favorite Easter candy is sort of like asking me to pick my favorite Wham! song -- virtually impossible and even the bad ones are pretty good.

However, Marshmallow Peeps are a perennial favorite around the Bone household. I especially appreciate the extra effort they take in putting two brown dots for the eyes on each and every chick. What was the thinking behind this? "No! You can't market them like that. No one will ever believe they're chickens unless they have eyes!"

This past Saturday, I ran my first 10K of the year. I say first, which would indicate that there will be at least one more in the lead-up to the half marathon of a still-to-be-determined date and location. I ran a 48:35 Saturday, good for a solid 66th-place finish. I also realized that I have the same thought when I get to every race and see hundreds of people milling around: Am I the only person here who isn't normally up at 6 AM on a Saturday!?!?

In other news of note, I think we may have skipped right over spring this year in the heart of Dixie. We had about two days of windy, 65-degree weather. Otherwise, we pretty much went straight from not-really-cold-enough-to-be-winter-but-too-gray-to-be-spring to may-as-well-call-it-summer. I briefly considered inventing another new season -- perhaps Spummer or Suing -- but I figure one new season is enough for one person for one lifetime. I don't want to be too prolific, else people will start expecting things.

Not that I'm complaining about the weather, mind you. I enjoy warmth, whether it's an inappropriate hug from a grandmotherly old lady who I don't really know or simply basking in the glow of our yellow sun. Temps have been in the 80's most of the last two weeks here and I've been taking full advantage, doing plenty of grilling, golfing and running.

Next weekend, I'll be heading up to Cincinnati to see my beloved Reds play. It'll be my first visit to Great American Ballpark, or Cincinnati for that matter, land of Johnny Bench and Johnny Fever. We're going to the game on Saturday. I'm open to suggestions for something to do that Sunday, as apparently there is, much to my dismay, not a WKRP In Cincinnati museum.

"From some other planet, I'd get this funky high on yellow sun. Boy, I bet my friends would all be stunned..."

A splendid splinter (with apologies to Ted Williams)

I was talking to someone the other day about the weather. (Don't worry, things will start to pick up here in a minute.) They made a remark about how they couldn't believe we were already having summer-like weather.

That really stuck with me, you know. Mainly because I don't talk to that many people.

We have been having gorgeous weather the past few days, but it's not here to stay quite yet. It must have been 80 here yesterday, but the high tomorrow is only supposed to be 48.

So I started thinking. I've never really considered March a winter month. Yet it only gets like 10 days of technical spring. So what is it? Maybe we need a new term for the period between winter and spring.

In my head, I started calling it splinter, obviously combining spring and winter. I thought it pure brilliance, and could already see the Wikipedia entry for it forming in my head:

Splinter
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Splinter is a term given to the period of time comprising the end of winter and beginning of spring. Also roughly equivalent to the month of March in the northern hemisphere. It is usually characterized by drastic swings in temperature, and often features days of spring-like weather followed by days of winter weather. The term was first used by Bone, an early 21st Century blogger, whose lifetime goal [citation needed] it was to have his own Wikipedia entry.

For other uses, see Splinter (disambiguation).

My brain continued to percolate, as I thought of words like spummer, autner and the seemingly oxymoronic summall. I was smiling to myself at yet another ingenious idea when it hit me:

There is no L in winter or spring.

It should be sprinter, not splinter. Why did I put an L in there? It's a wonder I even remember to stand on my head every morning and contact the home planet. But of course, sprinter just doesn't have the same zing as splinter. And since I'm inventing the word anyway, I'm going to continue to call it splinter.

I've been having a splendid splinter. Monday, I celebrated National Napping Day with a solid 90 minute siesta. Yesterday I played golf with some guy from Memphis, who asked if he could join us on the 3rd hole. I fought the urge to ask if he'd ever been to Graceland--it seemed kinda cheesy, plus I'm sure he gets that all the time--but it wasn't easy.

To top things off, last night I figured out that my Blackberry has speakerphone. Sixteen months and I'm still learning new things. Sometimes I get the feeling it has a thousand functions and I know how to use like four.

This new time is scratching me right where I itch. It has really brought me out of my winter hibernation. There just seems to be more... daylight or something. I've been relaxing. Sort of drifting aimlessly. Taking it easy. If I were a radio station, I would be easy listening. If I were a lipstick, I'd be easy, breezy, beautiful Cover Girl. If I were an Eagles song, I'd be... hmm, can't think of one.

To recap, I have just composed an entire post about a non-existent semi-season featuring my very own fake Wikipedia entry while also managing to compare myself to lipstick. I'd call that a full splinter's day.

"I've got seven women on my mind. Four that wanna own me, two that wanna stone me, one says she's a friend of mine..."