SOME FLOCK OF CHARACTERS
Sudden sunlight and warmth may overwhelm those with more sensitive senses. On Saturday, for example, our Great Lake became foggy with nostalgia when her beloved townspeople returned to the surrounding sands and pathways earlier than she expected.

Seagulls chattered in the gray thickness.

As I walked out on the first pier, a stiff crosswind sabotaged my spectacles and I almost tumbled blindly into the cold waters. I cleared the lenses with a damp shirttail and felt my way back to the beach, then back to the streets, and then farther inland where the fog became more of a high ceiling.

But still, I knew there were microscopic bubbles of springy nostalgia all around me. I breathed them in and exhaled them out for the last few blocks. My elbows were cold against water-resistant fabric while the cotton T-shirt underneath whisked harmful chills away from my center. I alternately warmed and cooled as I passed between buildings where the winds passed through. The lake and I, we struggled with one another my whole way home.

And then on Sunday it was as if nothing had happened— it was all just one of those emotional outbursts that we're both embarrassed by the next day and so we silently agree to forget. So the sun shot down and burned that fog away and the lake she took in every white ray of it.

These are the facts and they are not in dispute.

TRAVEL DOWN INTO THE ABYSS
You'll never find the bottom.

IT'S SAD BECAUSE IT'S STUPID
But it's funny because it's true.

SOBER UP
With something sobering.

KNOCK ME OVER WITH A FEATHER
The story of the Bush Administration ordering the firing of federal prosecutors for either investigating republicans or not going after democrats just got a whole lot juicier.

Meanwhile, Glenn Greenwald fillets Dick Cheney ... again.

SOON, SOON
It's time to start talking about and thinking about spring—time to start asking ourselves seasonal questions, the answers to which will shape our reality for the next couple months. (I apologize for the previous sentence.) The questions you'll ask yourself might include:

• Is there enough room over there for some Frisbee?
• What's with these pants?
• Where's that music coming from?
• Is it safe to pee in this alley?

This morning I could feel the warm winds the second I stepped out of my apartment building. They smell different. They bring a sweetness back with them—one we recognize but have trouble explaining without using annoying words like "transplendent" and "olfactory." The snow is melting at a good clip. I can hear it draining down drop by drop into the underground, taking winter's grime with it. The process sounds like distant broken glass.

(I apologize for the previous paragraph.)

I didn't care if I missed the bus today. I didn't care if I had to wait.




ETA: Song of the day—"In the Morning" by Junior Boys

MERRY FITZMAS
Libby found guilty on four of five counts.

HEAD SHAKER
I watched "60 Minutes" last night and thought the same thing. (Full disclosure: I actually spoke to the TV a few times ... to no avail.)

LAST 10
Little Child Runnin' Wild—Curtis Mayfield

Closer at Hand—Field Music

I Feel It All—Feist

Gold Stone—Ruins

Somebody That I Used to Know—Elliott Smith

Lost on Yer Merry Way—Grandaddy

Single K.O.—Wire

January Rain—Psychic Ills

Take A Look at that Baby—John Fahey

Girl Boy Tom—Desert Sessions

An odd afternoon mix.

BUSH BACK IN BIG EASY

One thing Bush likes to do in the Gulf Coast is hand out American flags to families rebuilding their houses. Long before he shows up, Bush's advance team scouts the non-hostile property owners in a neighborhood, and later, the president drops by and gives the family a flag. The White House thinks this makes for good pictures — and maybe it did, a month after the storm. But a year and half later, with the region still a mess and so many people displaced, it seems a little tone-deaf to be handing out flags — politically, it does invite comparisons to what Bush isn't doing in the region.

I have not the words.