A few flakes of promising snow (but alas, it was a lick & a promise that came to naught) ... a steely North Sea sky... a great catching-up talk with an old friend ... this weather vane ... & less than 24 hours till the psychopath-in-chief sneaks out of the White House. I heard he asked for a red carpet, a brass band, & a 21-gun salute. Really? Brass balls.