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With spring officially sprung, I spent the weekend gearing up for my favorite season.
No spring cleaning, planting flowers or mowing the grass for me. I braved the pollen-infused air for an afternoon at one of my favorite places in the world: the outlet mall, or as I like to call it, the eighth wonder.
While I realize saying I needed to go “spring shopping” holds little or no merit, it seemed like a great excuse for me to indulge in only the spring necessities.
I then continued shopping in my own closet, which is a great way to trick yourself into a little spring cleaning. I put away the heavy sweaters and long pants and traded up for skirts, cropped pants and open-toe shoes.
I even broke out an old favorite—my trusty Rainbow flip-flops—which for me is a sign to signify warm weather and long days. If it’s warm enough for me to wear my Rainbows, I’m a happy camper.
After church and lunch with my family on Easter Sunday, much to the quiet dismay of my mother, I spent the entire afternoon watching basketball with my dad and my brother.
That’s spring, and I love it.
But Monday evening when I was out covering a high school softball game, I quickly realized although the calendar said it was, this evening was anything but a crisp spring evening.
The game I was there to cover started late, so I watched the other games that were going on as I waited for my game to begin.
I noticed most of the folks there were dressed for a blizzard, complete with hats, hoods, gloves, layers of coats, thermoses filled with coffee and hot chocolate and blankets to bundle under.
I had none of this.
And as the sun began to set, the temperatures began to plummet. By the time the game began, I was sitting on the frozen bleachers, desperately trying to not to shiver myself into the flu.
All the smart people around me were huddled under blankets, armed with four coats and two pairs of gloves. And I was jealous.
A few innings into the game, my right hand frozen to my pen from trying to keep track of the score, a woman sitting behind me insisted I take an extra blanket she had. I thanked her and took the blanket.
I don’t know if I could have sat through the rest of the game without it.
In the waning moments of the softball game, it began to rain what appeared to be frozen pellets.
When I reluctantly got out of the blanket I was tucked into like a cocoon, the blanket was spotted with little balls of ice from the rain/ice mix falling ferociously into the stands.
After the game was over I ran to my car, pumped up the heat and waiting to regain feeling in my frozen hand before driving home.
Now, what was that Al Gore said about global warming?
Caroline Curran is a staff writer at the Beacon. Reach her at 754-6890 or email@example.com.