march already?

Where, oh where, did my winter go? This weekend the clocks spring forward. I know the Daylight Savings people are in some sort of plot to conserve energy by making me get up when it's dark out, but doesn't it seem awfully early for that mnemonic? They need to change it to "Change Your Clocks Two Weeks Before Spring". Doesn't have quite the same pop though...

It seems like months ago that I bought my plane tickets for two weddings in March. Realistically, I guess it was. Winter flew by like most football seasons do. I kept busy pretty much all winter long. Between snowboarding treks to Pennsylvania and ice-covered climbing trips to Maryland, my weekends filled up just as quickly as they do when the Ol' Boys of Florida are battling on the gridiron in the fall. It's been nice to have a lull in my schedule last weekend and this one upcoming. Nothing besides meals with my better half's family. It just isn't going to feel liks spring with all the snow still on the ground from this weekend's dump.

Wedding one next weekend will prevent Shamrock Fest shenanigans, but I think I'll have a better time with an old friend from the neighborhood. We haven't kept in touch nearly as well as we'd like over the years during and past college, but there's nothing like one of those old friends you can immediately feel at ease with. One whose mom you call mom because you spent nearly every afternoon there in the summer, perfecting your bank shot combo with a pool cue.

Wedding two will introduce my better half to a large number of my dirty stinkin' frat boy buddies all at once. Included will be the roommates of seven out of the ten years I spent in Gainesville. Good people all, but she's only met the groom and one of the roommates prior. It should be a good time in the sunshine, plus a bonus night with some family to boot.

Which reminds me, I still need to get rental cars and hotels for those weekends. Yeah, about that....

popped collars

Before I was a dirty rotten climber, I was a dirty rotten frat boy. Hard to believe, but it's true. I even lived the house for three years. Three years of waking up on the weekends to fire alarms going off, fireworks exploding the the courtyard, beer bottles in the shower, the smell of stale Natty Light wafting through the air. Don't kid yourself; for all the bluster of fraternities being paragons of virtue, that seedy side is still there. Some houses hide it better than others though. I didn't learn how to be a good person in a fraternity; I already was one. I was just able to more clearly articulate why I was a good person and add some more values to strive for beyond, "A scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent."

In any case, most people nowadays are pretty surprised to hear that I was a frat boy, and even more surprised to find that I don't regret it in the least. Being one made my transition to D.C. that much easier with a good number of great guys to call on to make it seem like home faster. I'm connected with people I went to college with more often from my days in the Shelter than those prior. Climbing brought me a whole different set of friends, with little crossover between sets. When Gainesville said goodbye to me, it was the GRG crew, not the DTD crew that bid me adieu. Granted, most of my closer friends from the house had long since moved on to Atlanta and other towns to start their real lives, while I stayed behind for four more years to see them during football season and at weddings weddings weddings.