Go home, weather. You’re drunk.

“Go home, weather. You’re drunk.” That seems to be the theme of 2013 thus far, and a kind of running joke that doesn’t seem to know when to quit. (Can you believe that Punxsutawney Phil predicted an early spring this year?)


On Saturday, Vivian and I decided to help Tamra move into her new condominium in Bellevue as a way of saying “Welcome to the neighborhood.” A bunch of our mutual friends showed up to help with the move, and I had the strangest sense of déjà vu, having moved Tamra less than a year earlier. Her new place is within walking distance of legendary burger joint, Stella’s (where I haven’t shown my face since being humiliated by a pile of meat in 2011). Ryan was kind enough to grill a pile of burgers and save us the trip, however. As far as I know, nobody ate them on a napkin. Hannah seemed to enjoy toddling about Tamra’s new backyard, and she even got her have her first faceful of watermelon.


A few days later, I took Hannah to her very first trip to the dentist, which was a slightly traumatic experience. Her teeth were just fine, but she absolutely did not like having strangers poking around in the there and spreading foaming fluoride all over the place. I took her up to spend some quality time with mommy during her lunch break at Friendship Program afterward. We went out to Benson Park, where Hannah got to chase a few geese and play on the swings while the weather was still “sober.” Of course, we had to bring her back to work afterward to say hello to Vivian’s co-workers and friends (and play with a few balls).

The next day it freaking snowed. And by freaking, I mean the freakish freak snow to hit the area in many a decade. Our tulips were fortunate enough to survive the few inches of snow we got by shutting themselves in self-defense. Still, there’s nothing quite as surreal as seeing snow on the ground in early May — especially since Hannah was swinging in our backyard just a day or two earlier before it got covered in snow. It was all vaporized by that afternoon.

Next stop: Cinco de “What month is this again?”



Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *