Casper Has Entered the Building

March 18th! 

I’m fairly certain I have not donned a pair of shorts for my daily attire this early in my life . . . especially in Montana. Shorts are not the typical clothing for mid-March in Big Sky Country. Typically this would be the time of year that most Montanans would be bracing themselves for the springtime blizzards and snowstorms that arrived late for winter. It's not the weather for wearing shorts, but here it is mid-March and temperatures are forecast for the mid-to-upper 70s for the next couple of days–approximately 20-some degrees above normal. 

 That is the sort of winter we’ve had in Montana–above normal. The grass has started to green. Flowers are poking through the dirt and some have brazenly flowered in defiance that winter isn’t done with us yet. The birds have started to return and music fills the air with their arrival. The turkeys, in particular–the males, are strutting their stuff and flashing their tail feathers. Bears have tumbled out of hibernation. Trees are budding with some already touting leaves. With above normal temperatures and a lack of snow, spring is being embraced . . . whole-heartedly! 

And it is only March 18th . . . and I’m wearing shorts! 

It is taking me some effort to wrap my mind around the idea of wearing shorts in mid-March. I love wearing shorts. I wear them practically every day from late May through late October. That’s my standard wear–t-shirt, shorts, and sandals. Donning shorts today is nearly two-and-a-half months early. I’ve never experienced it before. This is new territory for me.

I asked my oldest son earlier in the week if he was going to break out his shorts for the end of the week. He laughed and said only in the privacy of his home. He said he wasn’t going to expose the public to him in shorts yet. I understand where he is coming from. 

Those of my bloodline are an unfortunate lot. We are pale of pigment. We don’t tan well, but we are among the best when it comes to sunburn. As a child I was nicknamed “Casper” . . . as in “ the friendly ghost.” I was a pale child often lost in a white-walled room. My children didn’t fare much better. The school they attended had a contest to see who was the fairest, translated into most pale, in each class. Three of my four children won their class hands down. We are pale skins and we outshine everyone. 

Donning shorts for the season is a big step . . . a risky step . . . a baring experience of exposure. It is practically an affront towards the rest of the world. I have been told that I have a ‘glowing” presence. That’s a wonderful compliment. But the truth be known, the only thing about me that “glows” are my legs . . . brightly! That’s the curse of being pale . . . of being “Casper”. A menace to the eyes! 

The world has been forewarned . . . it is March 18th and I’ve pulled the shorts out and on. The temperature is rising and I’m opting for comfort and coolness. I realize it is intimidating and inconvenient to others . . . so grab your sunglasses . . . I have entered the room. Though Mother Nature might be suffering from pre-menopause hot flashes and more wintry weather might be coming down the pike, I’ve entered the transition into shorts. 

I can handle it. Call me whatever you will . . . chalk legs, pale legs/face, whitey, glow boy, pasty, or Casper. In the dark I can lead the way . . . one leg at a time. I can light up a room. I’m in my shorts. Ready or not world, here I come! Grab those sunglasses . . . Casper has entered the room!