The drifts swallowing up storefronts beckoned me in Waltham, Mass. I had been assigned to cover a major winter storm. These men were on their way to a grocery store for food. "Bread, peanut butter, anything!"

Tracks of the rare "photographicus dedicatus". As I photographed plows passing nearly buried parking meters, a couple of drivers got a chuckle out of me, waist deep in the fluffy stuff.

Flushed with excitement from tromping in the snow, I headed my car home to transmit the photos. Alas, my transmission gave out. I pulled into a gas station and then the battery in my laptop expired. In the gas station's convenience store, a very pierced clerk let me use a power outlet. After transmitting the images to meet my deadline, I set about finding a tow for my car.

I arrived in Washington, DC, and after dropping my bags at our bureau, I headed off to be fingerprinted. This was part of the credentialing process to cover President Bush’s inauguration. I took a number, like at a supermarket deli counter. When my number was called, a friendly FBI agent, with a gun on his hip, put me through the paces of having my finger tips scanned on a machine. (No ink involved.) Holding one finger, he shook my hand to loosen it up. I said, “I never expected a massage while I was here.” He laughed.

While I was in town, I made it to part of the hearings to confirm Condoleezza Rice as Secretary of State.

There was a nice moment in US civil rights history while she was being questioned by Senator Barack Obama.

Then, all I wanted was a shot of the White House at dusk. But more roads were shut down than normal and I could not get close on the south side. I wandered around to the north and found out that there was a stand-off with a man in a van outside the White House and law enforcement officers.

I love the fur fringe of the hoods of these members of the DC Police SWAT team.