Gorgeous. Weather that belongs to May, not March. Temperature at 9:30pm, 52°
When I was 13, I cried. Okay I cried all the time when I was 13. But one night, I cried during a basketball game, because I thought my beloved UConn Huskies were going to loose to Clemson in the sweet 16 round. I was so upset I had to call my dad at my uncle’s house and cry to him. And my poor dad had to watch the game while on the phone with his sobbing teen. Now of course – that was the night, of it’s late, it’s great, it’s TATE – and I remember the sound of my uncles yelling in the background, and the site of my brother jumping up and down on his bed. A couple of days later I would cry again as Duke would crush my dream of UConn being a national champion. I would also begin a life long hatred of Duke. Read the rest of this entry →