"They say that February is the shortest month, but you know they could be wrong.
"Compared calender page against calender page, it looks to be the shortest, all right. Spread between January and March like lard on bread, it fails to reach the crust on either slice. In its galoshes--and you'll never catch February in stocking feet--it's a full head shorter than December, although in leap years, when it has growth spurts, it comes up to April's nose.
"However more abbreviated than its cousins it may look, February feels longer than any of them. It is the meanest moon of winter, all the more cruel because it will masquerade as spring, occasionally for hours at a time, only to rip off its mask with a sadistic laugh and spit icicles into every gullible face, behaviour that grows quickly old."
Tom Robbins.
... I am still without a convenient computer to blog on.
My thrush is on the mend, but still lingering.
Lastly, an on going thought; I used to talk to myself, and in a way I still do, but now instead I blog in my head. Sometimes I write those blogs, other times they pass and fade, as momentary thoughts. I think blogging for me is very much a way to knit together my lose strings. It becomes more obvious as days pass when I don't write any blogs, and my thoughts pile up and then move on. I start talking to myself again.
I appreciate my brain's way of using different mediums to calm itself. With one, I do not need the other, but it lingers in my pathways just in case.... the internet dies.
