Spring hath sprung!

For some people, spring means flowers and birds and other happy things.  That sounds good.  I mean, those are spring-like things.  There's this bird that has it out for me and chirps outside of my bedroom window starting at 3:30 am (my family argues that it could be different birds, but I know better.  It's one bird, and for some reason it hates me and wishes me great harm.  It accomplishes this great harm by chirping SO LOUDLY that not even a pillow over my ear blocks out the sound entirely.  True story), so trust me, I'm getting well acquainted with every aspect of spring, but to me spring is about other things.

For one, weather (which admittedly leads to things like flowers and such, but if it's still snowing, it doesn't matter if the 20th has come or not, it just doesn't feel like spring until the warmth arrives).  I love when the crocuses decide it's warm enough and pop up.  When I can finally sleep with the windows open again.  When I feel like I'm getting a sunburn just by sitting on the back porch.  In the spring we have supper outside nearly every evening, which is swell.  Also, on Saturday we have breakfasts outside.  And most lunches.  Anyhow, yeah, many meals outside.

So, besides the weather and all of the holidays (Dr. Seuss's birthday, Pi Day, St. Patrick's birthday, the Ides of March, first day of spring, etc.) there's one other thing that signals spring.  That is... Reuben Sandwiches.  I love Reubens.  Which is odd, because I think rye bread is gross.  Ditto Swiss cheese.  Also, most things on a Reuben.  But I LOVE Reubens and was so excited when we had our first Reubens of the year.  And when I say "first of the year," I mean that we have them about three times a spring.  Mmm.



Slightly burnt Reuben with a side of fresh tomato.  DELISH.



We had our Reubens on the first day of spring, actually, and I could pretend it was a happy spring celebration, but really, we just happened to eat them on Tuesday.  Spring just happened to start on that day.  After supper we were going to go to our local ice cream place, because they were giving away free ice cream in honor of the first day of spring, so after supper (and after my dad showed me how to charge up the car battery--it had died and my sister and I just sort of pushed it out of the way until my dad could come home to show me how to fix it next time) we piled in the car (the newly charged battery getting a chance to feel useful) and went down to the ice cream place, only to discover that about 100 people had thought of it before we did.  So... we came home.  And made our own crushed ice creations.  Basically we crushed up ice and put on random flavors (lemon, vanilla, cherry, lime, any other flavors we could find) and ate it.  We had some misses (the almond was gross) and some hits (lime.  mmm), and in general had an amusing time standing about in the kitchen flavoring cups of ice.

Our array of flavors.  Also, my family.

We were going to have leftover pie from Pi Day celebration times at eating meeting on Lord's Day, but we forgot.  Also, we were full of Reubens and... ice.

Oh, spring.  How do I love thee.  Thee minus that bird who hates me, but you know what I mean.

PS  I see, thanks to the Google Doodle of the day, that today is Juan Gris's birthday.  If you all recall, he was the one who made me realize that I was okay with Cubism after all.  So happy birthday, Juan.  Thank you for expanding my horizons.

Stop and let me... read

I have sort of a habit of reading a lot. My lunch break is about 3 and a half minutes of eating and 21 and a half minutes of reading. I read in the bank drive-through, I read standing in line to buy boxes at Home Depot. I read when I'm alone, and when I'm surrounded by people. I read in cars, on planes, and on trains. If books were green eggs and ham, and I were Sam, I'd have to give a resounding "Yes" every time I were asked if I'd read it.

This has created some rather bad habits, however. For instance, stoplights are one of my bad habits. Around where I live and work, I know exactly which lights are long enough to read at, and which ones aren't. And if I have a book (and I usually do) and happen to be at one of the long-enough lights, I'll read. No harm has been done thus far, due to the fact that I'm usually fairly tuned into to when the other cars begin their trek across the intersection, but I keep on thinking that I should stop. Not just stop at the red light (I do that, trust me), but stop reading while I am stopped.

But it feels useless to do nothing at a light, is my thing. I like to listen to music in the car, but I don't like to just sit and do nothing while listening. I always joke that I'm better at listening to music than I am at watching movies. Thing is, with radio, you can make dinner, and do dishes, and drive, and do other things that require eyes. With a video, you're looking, and that's about it. Unless you knit while you watch. That would be clever.

But back to the book thing. I just find it so aimless to waste quality quiet time just sitting. Hence my stoplight habit. When my brother couldn't yet drive, but really wished he could, I would put him to good use and read without a thought for the road, because my brother would alert me to the green when it came.

For a while I took my sheet of Bible memorization in the car and would work on that during stoplights, but then I kept on trying to read it while I was driving, which ended up being a little frightening.

So if you ever see little ol' me stopped at a stoplight long after the red changed to green, make sure to honk a little. Chances are I'm engrossed in the pages of my current book.