When Spring Hasn’t Sprung

There’s spring in Nebraska, and then there’s SPRING in Nebraska. I’ve lived in this great state all my life, but for some reason this year’s cool temperatures have been challenging for me. OK, challenging may not be the right word. The weather isn’t challenging like having to run a half-marathon. I ran my first and last half-marathon in 2012. Now that run was a challenge. The cool, spring weather challenged me on several fronts. All were pretty namby pamby, but a challenge for me nonetheless.

Springtime in Nebraska

This year’s spring really wasn’t spring, but just a continuation of winter. I don’t think I complained much about the winter, because, after all, we live in Nebraska. It’s not a life; it’s an adventure! When winter temperatures continued to hang on well into April, it caught my attention.

The weather commentator kept telling me, yes it was cool, but temperatures weren’t far from the average range. Either she’s lying to her audience, or I’m just getting old. I just pictured myself with a knitted bed jacket draped over my shoulders. I’ll never wear one, sticking to my plush Polartec jacket zipped up to my neck. No draping for me! Did I mention wool socks? Yes, I guess I’m getting old.

I think what really brought my complaining about the weather to a tipping point was being a faithful grandma and attending all of our grandson’s high school baseball games.

Going to My Grandson’s Baseball Games

Before each game, I would go through a routine of checking the car for three blankets—one for John and two for me. Hats, coats and gloves are a given. The number of outerwear layers is always the big question, so we just put everything into bags and lug them to the stadium. Stadium seats are a must, but I’ve yet to find heated seats. Maybe they’ve already been invented and I just haven’t found them at Scheels. I also double check for sunflower seeds and some water to drink.

Prior to the game, I text our grandson to tell him we’ll be there cheering his team on, but he won’t know we’re there. From the field, he won’t be able to recognize me as my eyes are the only thing exposed, and sometimes they are even covered by sunglasses. He probably won’t be able to hear my muffled yells of encouragement. All he’ll be able to hear me yell is “gwoooooooooo.” I have yet to provide him with the translation. He always laughs at my comments and asks if I will be impersonating the Stay Puft Marshmallow from Ghostbusters or Randy, Ralphie’s little brother in A Christmas Story.

Perhaps my grandson’s best question was, “Grandma, how do you eat your sunflower seeds with your gloves on and a scarf around your neck?” I don’t tell him grandmas can still have some secrets from their grandchildren.

I think I just came up with a summer project my grandson and I could do together. Could we possibly put hand warmers in a pillowcase, which I could sit on during those cold baseball games in 2019?

Hmmmm. I’ll keep you informed. Patent pending.