Just draggin' ass this morning. It was already dawn until I got out the door with the meathead.

Last night got to be way too late. I stayed too long at the Chicago Outdoor Sports Show at the Stephens Convention Center in Rosemont.

By the time, I walked down to the CTA parking lot, then got on the road, the snow squalls were rolling hard enough to make driving much more than 40 mph hard. So it took more than two hours to drive home.

And it was a pain-in-the-ass drive. I finally stopped at Burger King for that 2-for-$5 deal on Whoppers. At my age, wolfing down a pair of Whoppers on the road at 10 p.m. is not the smartest thing.

May have been one reason I was draggin' ass this morning.

I heard one of the resident Eurasian-collared doves in a neighbor's maple. But I couldn't pick it out.

At least it was cold enough to wake me up. And certainly cold enough to stir Storm's inner Labness. The meathead was just wild this morning, flying through the dusting of snow on the ground.

When I reached the town pond, I couldn't believe it. Somebody had left a wooden, homemade shanty on the ice of the south old clay pit.

Apparently, it was somebody who knew what they were doing. It was set where I remember, from the informal mapping of both pits I did in the fall with Todd Carlander in his cartopper, it being on the drop toward the deepest hole.

All the same, I was surprised. The ice is thick enough to ice fish, but a heavy, wooden shanty might have been pushing it.

A faint sound, almost a murmur, came from the Canada geese on the lake to the west. That was it for wildlife.

I wonder if the hole they have been swimming open all winter finally froze up. Yesterday, it was down to a small area.

The bank clock had 9 degrees. My thermometer behind the garage had 5.

Cold enough to notice.

Another long day and night coming. Off this afternoon to the new Chicagoland Fishing, Travel & Outdoor Expo at the Schaumburg Convention Center.

On my account, the snow squalls can hang tight to the Chicago lakefront or stay in Indiana tonight, anywhere other than bouncing around the Tri-State.