he Wire ended. Something happened to Eliot Spitzer; not sure if you've heard. Yesterday, in New York City, a crane crashed into an apartment complex, killing four people. Some serious shit went down in Tibet. Catastrophes, people. Hardly any warning.

Oh, but then good things happened, too: My friend Aaron married a wonderful woman. I had this great dinner with my friend Victoria on Friday night, and we sat in the coziest little corner of a West Village restaurant and watched as thousands of cops marched past. It was surreal, the strangest vision at 8pm; this dark sea of bobbing badges streaming down the cobbled street. I guess they were rehearsing for St. Patrick's Day, which I guess is tomorrow. And since I'm Irish, I guess I appreciate their efforts.

I took out that Christmas tree, by the way. Middle of February. It was a little bit like sneaking out a dead body on a Wednesday night at 8pm. Pine needles sprayed everywhere. Dry limbs were broken off and discarded all across my apartment. It was like the Manson family had slaughtered a pine forest. Serious carnage. Yesterday, I found a half-foot limb collecting dust behind my printer. The good news? The vacuum I used to clean it all up smells freaking fantastic.

I get a little blue this time of year, because I'm a Texas girl, who thinks March is for tank tops and flip-flops and meanwhile, I'm still wearing my winter coat to work every day. But I can feel the sunshine coming. Maybe next month. Maybe next week. I'll keep you posted. Anyway, just sort of wanted to say hi.