Face cheeks…crack face cheeks. No, I’m not writing a post about the weather. I just love that combination of words from King Lear.

Palm trees on beach wb023058I’d rather be reading on a beach somewhere at an all-inclusive resort in a country where the people speak Spanish, there’s lots of laughter from the ‘juegos locos’ (crazy games) and the snack bars are always open.

The weather in southern Ontario, in fact, is still a boring grey, only a bit windy, but mild. The ratty bits are showing on the sidewalk, where the plows have scraped up the weedy soil and dumped it in nasty poop-like clods on the pavement. In the back yard, the snow has melted over the septic tank, which is both good and bad. Good means that the squadrons of bacteria are doing their decomposition work on the scum and sludge. The bad, is that the hares that inhabit our gardens seem to be having a rave there every night, as the constellations of their huge footprints radiate from that hot-spot. Nice that they’re keeping warm, but not-so-nice that they forage in search of nutrition and decimate the rose bushes, no matter how much I wrap them up.

I keep reading articles about how I shold be posting regularly if I want to gain any measure of success as a blogger, but I confess that, even though they’re right and I feel bad for a few minutes, I have no discipline. I sit down to write a blog post, then some topic sparks a web search, then I wander off into another realm of exploration – knitting patterns for entrelac vests, recipes for gingerbread, exercises I should be doing to combat the onslaught of flab from all of the Christmas baking and eating and wine drinking I did…

But I promise to be better. Honestly I do. Then again, this is contest-entry season, and I have to get busy prepping entries for review. So much to do…