In the spirit of full disclosure, I have a confession to make. For the past few weeks, I have been writing Liquid Lines (and a few other pieces for The SandPaper) from somewhere else. Yes, I have yakked on and on about frozen beaches, ice forming in hair, and brown waves from a place where only the smoothies are frozen, the sun turns your hair blond, and the waves are many shades of aqua.

Of course, I don’t want to appear untruthful. But on the other hand, it’s not in my nature to be all “Hey, suckers in…