Nothing bugs me quite as much as seeing snow on the ground in April. In other words, nothing bugs me quite as much as northeast Ohio -- especially when I'm looking out the window at a white-out while Maloofa is on the phone telling me she just got back from the beach.

But the snow from Sunday and yesterday is pretty much all gone by now. In fact, I think we're in the 40s. Heatwave.

On Sunday we went to Mass at a different church. It's the older parish where they say Mass with a more traditional delivery that I like better than the new-age nonsense that dilutes some other services. And the choir? They sang a few hymns in Polish. That's old school. (But at the Our Father we once again saw half the congregation assume a Marcel Marceau mime-in-a-box posture -- palms open to the front, "I'm stuck in an invisible box, how did I get in this invisible box" -- when did that start?)

Steve told me a fascinating story that involved 5,200 professional chess players. The blogosphere awaits his remarkable photo essay.

It's April. Think I can get TARP funds to fund what I owe on state and local taxes?