It's spring! That means I should be breaking out the sandals and getting my winter-expanded fanny out there to stroll down blossom lined paths, right?

Nope. My rear will have to stay super-sized for a while yet. I saw the bank thermometer today through the wall of hail I was attempting to drive through. It read 44 degrees.

Is it too much to ask for 74? I'll even take 64. Okay - 54, but that's as low as I'll go. Is anyone listening to me here?????

This is why I write. I am, always have been, and will forever remain a control freak. If I want my characters to have nice weather I give it to them - 78 degrees, a slight breeze, and humidity? Fugetaboutit.

They can sip on lattes or martinis - my choice. They can down caviar by the wheelbarrow load and never worry about cost - or cholesterol, or expandomatic hineys.

And - if they ever happen to displease me - they'll be sorry. I'll wreck their martini and caviar picnic with the same hail I put up with today. And If that still doesn't feel like enough I'll throw in some fire ants and an endless loop of "Afternoon Delight" of the 1970s Starlight Vocal Band fame. And if you're familiar with that song at all you'll know that the fire ants are a mercy.

I guess I could be nicer. But really, who wants to read about a character who never has anything go wrong in their lives? We not so secretly want to feel better about ourselves by comparing our troubles with someone else's. Come on, admit it. You've done it. You've read about someone's dilemma and thought, "Poor sucker, at least I'm not them."

Is this bad? I don't know. I do think it's human though, and I happen to write books for humans. So don't expect my characters to live perfect lives.

If I can't.

They can't either.

The sun's shining outside my window - how long do you think it'll be before it starts hailing again?

Oops. Answered my own question. It's hailing now. Bring on the fire ants.