March has never been my favorite.
The boy one gets older every March. My he’s big now. Now he looks like The Mister only taller and broader. He is magical, what with his mathing and his technologing and thoughts of things to think. I love him to pieces.
He used to be like this:
This metamorphosis occurred right before my very eyes. Sometimes I see his five-year-old smile, and my happiness lives there a moment before returning to his man-face.
Otherwise I have only one other important birthday in the month of March, and I forgot it this year, because I am a bad friend, although he’ll probably forgive me because he’s a Pisces and we have been friends since… 1993? Holy crap. I should call him.
It’s very long, isn’t it? March?
In like a lion, out like a lamb, they say. Some of us prefer the lion. March winds, I do like those. Like all that cold wind. I don’t like to fly kites.
Yesterday it was hot already, stupid 78 degrees. I had to open my car windows and let the wind take my hair.
Got to work and the space heater was on. Apparently I work with those who prefer the lamb’s end of March. I’ll be buyin a lot of summer sweaters this year, so I can wear them all year. This is kinda funny if you know me offline, because since I left Georgia, I have bitched and bitched and bitched about my lack of heavy warm sweaters, and now I finally have almost enough (cause never enough) heavy warm sweaters to wear and I don’t get to wear them all that often.
There’s basketball in March. I live in Indiana, so this is like a religion. I’m not religious, what with being a Unitarian Universalist and all, but oh how we dabble, so I do dabble in the brackets from time to time, although I have escaped Hoosier Hysteria. You should probably be aware that I didn’t make that up. I know it’s hard to tell when I make up so many words and phrases, but I’m totally serious, you can Google Hoosier Hysteria. People have painted it on their big red barn. Now we have to cheer for Kentucky, because the enemy of our enemy is our friend.
I think that sums up all I have to say about March. I’d never be a good marchand for March, but I can sell you on April. Love me some Aprils.
Stream of Consciousness Saturday — SoCS ‘march’ is brought to you by LindaGHill