Sprung!

Equinox, schmequinox; you know it's spring in Oklahoma when God's own tympani roar out of the sky and the rain falls hard, sometimes in drops that cut through your very skin and sometimes in little clumps of ice the size of a golf ball. Add to this the inevitable electric light show, and you've got a storm to reckon with; the one we got late last night dumped an inch of rain in half an hour, and while I didn't see any ice balls with "Titleist" enameled on their dimpled surface, there were lots of chunks the size of M&M's. Peanut, not plain.

I celebrated the event by verifying that my air conditioner wasn't working — something one must do yearly, after all — and pulling Silvetti's dance number "Spring Rain" off the shelf where it's sat for the last twelve months or so. You know there's been a shift of some sort when I start playing the disco stuff again.