Huevos blogos.

It must have been about 60 F for a while this afternoon.

We are orphans up here, and Climate personified doled out a day of spring into our little bowls, here in March. One among us asks, “Please sir — can we have some — more?”

“MORE?!?”

A while ago, my cousin Jay (not my brother Jay) wrote to me, after reading something I’d written about the weather. My cousin Jay, who is a few years older than my brother Jay, is a lifelong Mississippian.

“I especially like the references to the cold weather that the Second City experiences,” he wrote. “The coldest that I have ever been was during January 1986 (+ or - a year) when I was there for the HIA show. All the natives were commenting on how warm it was. My face froze off.”

On the other hand, come about July, there will be a day when the temps exceed 90 F. Those same natives, so bold in the face of subarctic chills and screaming voids below zero, will get that wilted look in their eyes, and that hissing sound from behind their ears. Much grousing will follow. But the kicker is, that kind of elevated temps rarely lasts more than a few days, after which it retreats to the 80s or even 70s.

I rarely vocalize the following (I am too polite): You think this is hot? Summer in San Antonio is hot. The likes of you would be liquefy and trickle down the sidewalk, and dogs would refresh themselves by lapping at the puddle that used to be you.

Last night was longer than it should have been. Ann came down with IBS — irritable baby syndrome — and then there was the matter of my new cast. It isn’t onerous during the day, but when I was trying the sleep it felt like my foot had been glommed by a toothless old croc. Not a biting feeling, just heavy pressure all around. I’m sure I will get used to it.

Early in the morning I learned how to take a bath with one foot sticking out, and then we all attended the 9:30 service at Holy Nativity. Nothing like a six-week old baby no one has ever met to spark conversation, so we stayed unusually long at coffee hour. Boy or girl? (We hadn’t dressed her to cue a gender.) Name? How old?

IBS had disappeared by this time. Ann slept through her first church service, and then her first breakfast outside the home.

Breakfast — one of those noontime breakfasts — was at the Moondance Diner. We go there every three or four months. Always fine eatin’ at the Moondance. Highlight of the day. We even enjoyed waiting for our table, since we got to sit outside. Mr. Sun was a kind old uncle we hadn’t seen in months, not the sky-bleaching tyrant he will become in summer. When we got our table, I got huevos rancheros, and I quote from the menu: corn tortillas layered with two eggs over medium chorizo combo cheese, avocado, salsa and sour cream.