On this windy, rainy day, I inaugurate my blog thinking about Feste's song that ends TWELFTH NIGHT:
When that I was a little tiny boy,
With a hey, ho, the wind and the rain...
(How hard it is to spell "twelfth" and who but Shakespeare could get away with "little tiny"?)
Like Feste, I see the world wryly and know that "by swaggering could I never thrive, / For the rain it raineth every day."
Yet I join the blogocracy. Will you please join me?