Spring Forward, Baby!

I have never been so happy to spring forward in my life. In fact, I usually loathe springing forward. As a lifelong Texan, the past 39 years of springing forward have meant that two weeks of spring was upon us, to be followed by 4 months of sweltering heat, during which we were supposed to pretend that it was bearable because of our front porches and Mint Juleps. I've rarely had a front porch, and I've never had a Mint Julep. My favorite summer activity has always been lounging next to the pool and then rolling into it once an hour to float. It may actually be one of my favorite activities of all time. But it doesn't have to be 109 degrees with 98% humidity to enjoy it. At some point, extra degrees of heat are just harbingers of doom. There's a line from Out of Africa when Meryl Streep first arrives in Africa to get married and one of the Brits who had been there for a while comments on her wedding hat: "It's not much of a hat." Meryl Streep tells her, "it's meant to be stylish," to which the Brit deadpans, "People die from sunstroke here."

But this year is different. This year, I'm in New York. I love cold weather (or my version of it -- I lived in Lubbock for 5 years, where there's actually snow . . . and of course wind that will sheer your face off). New York's mild winter this year has been the perfect introduction for me and my little Texas family. But it's been bleak. And gray. And wet. For a long time. I'm not complaining, just observing. So for the first time, I'm really anticipating spring, the way we're meant to. I notice buds on trees in my yard. I've noticed the first sprigs of green coming up in my flower beds (planted, naturally, by the previous owner). I still had the standard reaction to learning that we were going to lose an hour last night: ugh. But then today happened. It was crisp outside, to be sure, but it was glorious, and it lasted until 7:00 p.m.

And it means that things are about to warm up. Warm up. Not heat up. Just warm up. Last summer, we got here in July, just in time for what New Yorkers called "heat." Everyone kept fussing over the heat: "It's such a shame you got here right in the heat of summer. New York gets so hot!" It's the cutest thing we'd ever heard.

So what has this got to do with the generational gap? Perhaps just this: It demonstrates that the post-technology-revolution generations really do think everything about us --including the surrounding weather patterns -- is interesting and that posting it on the Internet is perfectly appropriate.

That egocentric image is not the most flattering thing in the world, but I don't care, man. It was sunny day in New York until 7:00 p.m. That's news everybody ought to appreciate.