The thing about a Michigan spring is that there is no Michigan spring. Sure, it doesn’t snow as much, but steady rain and 39˚ does not make a spring, nor do sunny skies, 40˚ temps with 30 MPH winds to make it feel like it’s 25˚.
A 60˚ day of pleasure will be offered forth from the raised robes of Ma Nature on occasion, but for the most part, we just freeze our tits off nine months out of the year and roast our balls/lady bits off the other 3. I don’t know why I bother typing any of this, it is what it is, and I can do nothing but do what I do: pack on another layer of blubber, never put away my collection of flannel shirts, and buy another 12 pack of IPA to drink as I sit and wait for the brief respite of summer.
This past weekend was void of riding, and featured two games for B. One was an away game downstate in some COLD (but sunny) temps where a hard fought 1-0 victory was had. The second match was on Sunday and was a State Cup game played at home due to the field conditions of the opposing team. There was much sun, warmer temps and my first sunburn of the year as I shot pics and watched B’s team earn a 4-0 win.
Monday was Monday. It was cold as tits, I had a shit ton to do and did little else other than spend a half hour lumbering on the Dreadmill and lifting heavy things for no reason. Even after doing so, I had no idea why I did it. No one likes pancake pecs I suppose, but it all seems pointless. Then again, most things do these days.
Tuesday brought more of the same temps but had even darker skies filled with a cold rain that would be unleashed later in the evening as B practiced and I sat watching a U9 girls match from the warmth of the car. It’s one thing for 15-year-old boys to practice in the cold rain, but 8-year-old girls playing in the pouring rain and 39˚ temps is crazy! Those girls have some serious balls. Well done ladies!
In between wanting to drink beer at 10 AM due to the continued shitty weather, doing another crap workout (sore pecs and all), cooking dinner, and getting B to practice, I squeezed a walk in at the Sylvan Preserve so as to get some shutter clicks in, blow the stink off of me, and sit on a small riverside bench pondering my existence as I stared blankly at the mighty Chipp meandering by. As cold and shitty as it is, spring is doing its best to get sprung on mid-Michigan.
Shutter clicks were had, stink was blown, and no conclusions were found concerning my existence whilst watching the and listening to the chirping birds bitch about the cold. Such is life, onward and sideways I go into the vast sea of crap that is life in 2019.
Doing time in the shop tomorrow, followed by dinner making and getting B to practice.