Spring ahead indeed!

The weather, the beginning of baseball season, the sight of a robin in a tree, the visibility of the sun after 6pm, the fact that I am wearing a skirt. For those who think that spring doesn't actually exist in New England, this week has brought unrefutable evidence that an attempt is at least made by Mother Nature to conjure this elusive season.

Aside from producing the highest gas-purchasing receipt I've seen for filling a Honda gas tank, our trip to Queensbury last weekend was delightful. Warren Carey was as entertaining as usual and Bryan and I crack ourselves up with her shark "bite" all the time (along the lines of what does a shark say? Followed by a great eating sound from the back of the throat that is hilarious coming from such a tiny face). We did get caught in the daylight savings time warfare. We were working on purchasing a pitcher of each type of beer at Deperate Annie's when, at 2am, it was suddenly 3am and last call was in 20 minutes. We valiantly ordered one more and managed to finish it before being 'urged' to leave the premises.

Oh, and the pope died. Wanking motion. So did Prince Ranier. Another wanking motion, though he and his family have provided slightly more entertainment through their slightly sordid personal lives. I was completely creeped out by the 'laying in state' of an 84 year old man in a dress. The creepiness was not relieved when some bishop or cardinal starting flicking water on each section of the body. Oh, it's holy water. Much better.

Happy Birthday Nicole! I can't wait to see you walk down that aisle. And to Jaron - who has no idea what what that last sentence means - Happy Birthday to you and that sweet ass of yours.