"You going up to Punxsy?"
Am I 19 and stoned,"No, not this year."
Living only 15 minutes from The Weather Capital of the World, Punxsutawney Pennsylvania, Indian for "land of the sand-flies",and Latin for "Penns woods", this is a conversation that must come up every dead of winter.
No, this year I won't get up at 2am, fight for a parking space, overpay for trinkets, freeze with 2000 drunks and wait for a rodent, better suited as a varmint rifle target, to be yanked out of a box so some pseudo-illuminati fellas can read off the pre-scripted weather report for the next month and a half.
Not judging. Just my preference.
My prediction? 6 more weeks of full tilt Nordland style winter.
I'm leaving this one short and sweet. Leave a story about your Punxsy Phil. How about Woodstock? Maybe a Greatful Dead short. Everybody has a story of their own Penns Sandflies adventure. Boring to you, funny to us