When I grow up I'm going to be a sunflower. Yes, really... Mr GP gave me three of these little fellows for my birthday last week. Good, aren't they? I've planted the first can in an attempt to convince myself as much as anybody else that if the sun still isn't appearing down our way, we can brighten up the place with our own variety. I say "convince myself; " my fits of the bleahs, ennui, acidie or whatever you want to call it continue. Whether it's post-Easter let down, (when our church does Holy Week, it really does it well!), lingering post - meno health niggles or whatever; my blog - if not my whole get up and go - seems to have got up and gorn.
Out there in the blogosphere, Retired Knitter has fallen over the edge of a 'blog cliff,' the much revered Chorister has 'retired,' her wonderful wibsite choir blog, and Steve Tilley...well...I might have completely misunderstood his last post, but he's currently in colloquy with a being called Big Blogger. I'm not alone it seems.
Mr GP, on the other hand, is on a roll, with his talk of pedalling and postive mindsets. Maybe I need to get on my bike.
