Saturday, March 20, 2010

I have to get out of here...

I was born and raised in Michigan. I married a Michigander, and even gave birth to one. That does not mean that this is where I belong. If given the choice, I would be someplace a little farther south. I have no problem with gun racks in pickups. I can have long, roundabout conversations with perfect strangers, I call it soda, not pop, tea is only tea if it is sweet, and I can drop this Yankee accent and drawl, y'all. I even encouraged my husband to join the Army, where most of the bases are located: yep, in the south. Yet, here I am...back HERE. And finally, it is Spring. How do I know that it is Spring? I don't need a calendar. I know it is the first day of Spring because after about a week and a half of t-shirt weather we woke up this morning to this:

This is how we do Spring up north, (y'all). My kids, showing their innocence to true Michigan weather, were actually surprised. Maybe they will get lucky and get to hunt their Easter eggs in the snow too, since anyone who was actually "raised" here can claim that tradition.
As for me, until Spring comes, you know, at the end of May, I will channel my inner garden gnome and sing the following song:

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