War and weather: it seems like that's all we got around her by way of news this weekend was Powell and Powder, Blizzard and Buildup. "President's Day" is generally commemorated in this land by the airing of national slogans such as "It doesn't take an executive order to save up to 50% on all name-brand appliances" and "I cannot tell a lie -- these prices are OUTRAGEOUS!" But between the drumbeats and the snowfall, I almost forgot we were off of work today for some other reason.

A social miscalculation resulted in our missing the opportunity to attend the whomping huge peace rally on Saturday. I would like to hereby register that peculiar emotion somewhere between shame, disappointment, and the resigned understanding that it on the whole my absence doesn't make much difference. My quiet applause to those of you who froze your faces off while we played lego with David, Karen, and their charming daughter.

Predictably, all the time spent indoors this weekend did not produce much in the way of quality writing on my part, though it did open the door to my almost-banished former addiction to The Blood-Pressure-Raiser. Sadly, Rory's emotional screen-capture of the experience of reading MeFi remains true, and as I found myself getting drawn into a doomed 'discussion', I wondered for the nth time whether this whole interconnectivity through the magic of computers won't eventually be scrapped in favor of some more productive communal activity, like napping.

("Hey," we'll say to each other, waking briefly from a delightful siesta. "Remember the Internet?" And we'll reply, "Whazza...? Dunno...I'm tryin'a slee...zzz....")

Eventually I tore myself away from such torture, I went out in the preposterous and lovely snow. And though I am not much with the camera, I took a few pictures.

***

Seen recently:

Lucian Freud, Drawings 1940 -- Matthew Marks Gallery

Playful, affecting, one-offs and doodle-ish bits. Liked it a bunch. Personal favorite: "Whale Having Tea." A happy little whale, having tea, by Lucian Freud. Made my afternoon.

Uncle Vanya -- Donmar Warehouse at Brooklyn Academy of Music. Chekov, translation by Brian Friel.

Friel's translation is as great as one might have hoped -- brings out as much as possible of the funny in the play, but completely naturally. Simon Russell Beale is terrific as the manic-depressive Vanya, but it's really an ensemble performance, with good turns from everybody. I'd have liked to have seen Emily Watson as Yelena rather than Sonya, but whatever. Also, excellent field of tall grass which the light plays over to dreamy effect. The ending dr-a-a-gs, though.