In studying animals this week, my boys and I learned that the groundhog usually hybernates until March. This gave me new appreciation for poor Punxsutawney Phil, who is most likely rudely awakened annually.

Not to take anything away from Phil, but February 2 holds greater meaning for me. My maternal grandfather was born on February 2, 1922 in the middle of a blizzard in Luck, WI. The last birthday we celebrated with him was in 2002 (02-02-2002). He pass away on July 31, 2002, which he had predicted; he figured he would die from his 10-year cancer bout by August. But, then he was always good at figuring. Perhaps he and Punxsutawney Phil have more in common than I thought. 

Happy Birthday, Grandpa!