This week . . .

Let's see . . . Spitzer gets caught paying (way too much) for extramarital sex (something no one -- in my mind should pay for -- if you accidentally find yourself emotionally involved at the same time, you'll pay a high price, surely enough!). And, he's trapped, primarily, because of a law he (I believe conjured up) that would track unusual activity in bank accounts as a way to flag potential terrorist activity.

Poor Geraldine Ferraro still can't get out of her own way. Just in case this isn't clear, she's not a racist; however, her earnestness -- and pure stubbornness -- do manage to be her undoing. Even when she tries to hold back it doesn't seem to work, because she then looks like she's trying too hard or is hiding something.

Obama, hmm, I still have no idea who he 'really' is.

Me? Well, we've got our final gig (for the time being) at Perk's Coffee House in Norwood, MA tonight. We've got the basic rhythm section that "The Flying Cowboys'" foundation is built on plus a little sweetener from Mr. Curt of The Mr. Curt Ensemble, Mr. Ray ("CabaRay") Dalere on additional percussion and, my buddy, Ms. Kristin Mountcastle, previewing one of her songs that I'll be accompanying her on with some shared vocals. And, I'll be opening the gig with several cover songs that inspired me to do what I do. Can't wait!

And, tomorrow I turn 48. I can't quite believe it. I'm rarely struck by 'milestone' birthdays. I mean, they're expected. But, I'm somehow always caught off guard by the "3's" and "8's," since they make clear just how close you are to the "5's" and "0's." Don't get me wrong here! I'm not 'upset' about it. In fact, overall, I embrace the march of time; however, I'm also cognizant of the relative significance.

And, I re-realized a few years ago what five "and a half" year olds embrace: that once you 'hit' your birthday, you're actually in your 'next' year. So, I'm 48 for a moment (March 16, 2008 at 7:00 AM EST, to be exact), then it's off to the adventures of what my 49th year will surely have in store for me.

March, true to form, has entered as a Lion. I can't wait till it leaves like a Lamb. Spring is coming . . . that's reassuring . . . and this year, seems even more unusually, remarkably overdue. My Mom reported that the Snowdrops were budding in her yard last weekend. Once they bloom, I'll know, for sure, that spring -- like the gifts granted as the result of believing in 'hope' and having 'faith' -- will soon arrive and set the stage with all her wonderful color, scents, light and warmth. Welcome . . .