The first time I brought Chris back home with me (home being the Texas Panhandle) was May 1996. The occasion was my brother and sister's high school graduation, and the weater was awful. The region was experiencing worse-than-usual drought conditions and there were horrible dust storms raging. The sky was a nice shade of brown. Chris claims to be impressed by the dust devils and tumbleweeds, but meteorologically speaking, I'd hoped for something a bit nicer. The second time we went home together, it was Christmas 1997. There was a raging blizzard this time and we were snowed in for three or four days. The third time was June 1998, and this occasion was our wedding. It was hot. It was asphalt-meltingly hot. When I drove by the bank (yes, in our town it's just "the" bank) on my way to church, the temperature was 109. After the ceremony we went to my grandparent's house to set up for a BBQ (yes, it's Texas, I can say BBQ) dinner and my granddad announced that...