I think Vermont is getting to me.

Also, I tried to put on makeup this morning, and I just couldn't bear the sight of it. Conversely, I made a hair appointment for next week -- cut and color, I'm not sure that there's another stylist in all of Vermont that I'd have to wait a week to see, but Jen at Indigo can't see me until next Friday at 12:15. (Well, I could have got in Wednesday, but I have a meeting, plus it's the day after the Wisconsin primary,)

I made the appointment because I have been feeling particularly unattractive. It's silly, and I think it's a function of winter. Mid-February is when you start to feel that spring will eventually be coming. You want to out of your cave, but you know it's still snowing outside.

So anyway, I'm getting my hair cut.

Change is good

Out in Iowa, I didn't have a TV, but here there's a TV with cable, and I haven't turned it on. Except for The Simpsons, I don't miss is. I'm sure I could still watch The Simpsons.

I'm not going to get rid of my TV at home, because I like to watch movies, but I'm not sure I can ever go back to watching TV on a regular basis.

A less-than-random Tuesday night

The tea is Tazo Zen, which has lemongrass and a couple of different kinds of mint. I was drinking the tea before I started in on the beans, which.... well, it just is.

All in all, it was a pretty decent way to start the day.

Headquarters is a little strange tonight since we're essentially not even trying in most of the states that have primaries today. We just saw our former campaign manager on MSNBC as an analyst; it's still a little weird to see him saying "they" when we're used to him saying "us."

And that's the way it is right now.

So I was thinking about this guy I know...

I think you had to be there, and have been drinking a thick chocolate milkshake at the time to really appreciate the conversation.

I have reached Vermont, and I am in the office for the second day. I found the apartment where I'm staying, and I had a nice long sleep last night., which helped a lot. I can hardly fathom how very tired I was.

Snow fell from a clear sky as I left Des Moines, and as the flakes touched against my windshield, I thought of the people I had known, some of whom were very special. I thought of them again as the sun set behind me and glanced off the snowy fields. Everything was pink and gold, and it was all so very beautiful. I wanted to be able to take it all in, but I knew there wasn't time. That's how seeing Iowa in my rear-view mirror felt. Most of those folks had already gone, but a few were left.

Somwhere along the way, I ran out of windshield wiper fluid. I didn't really want to pull off the highway in Chicago proper, because I felt like I'd get lost. Turns out that might have been a better idea than what actually happened. I exited in Gary, Indiana and pulled into a gas station. I knew there was going to be a problem, because the two people ahead of me wanted their 40s in brown paper bags. I didn't find any wiper fluid there, or at the next station. The Walgreen's across the street from the second station was closed, so I couldn't purchase any of the jugs of wiper fluid I saw stacked in a pyramid inside the glass doors.

So I went the other way down the road and spotted a truck stop. I figured they had to have things like all essential vehicle fluids, but I guess big rigs don't have issues with windshield spatter. My solution was to purchase a roll of shop towels and a bottle of mouthwash. I figured I would be able to cut through the salt with the mouthwash, and the alcohol content meant the liquid wouldn't freeze.

What I didn't count on is the film that this operation left behind. Sure, the glass was clear, but I couldn't see through it. My frustrated solution was to wipe the whole thing down with water.

Which froze.

So I sat in the car for several minutes with the heat going until the ice started to crack and the wipers were able to do their job. I got back on the highway and went on my way; I ended up driving to LaPorte, Indiana, which is just outside of South Bend. I stayed the night there because it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

The second day of driving was all right until I neared Erie, Pennsylvania, at which point the snows got worse. Sheer force of will got me to the New York Thruway, which included the scariest driving of my whole life. I couldn't see because of the blowing snow, and instead of going all the way to Syracuse, I settled for Dunkirk.

Driving the next day was a little better simply because of the daylight, but the lake effect snows were terrible all the way through Utica. I had trouble controlling the Saturn, and I swear my next vehicle will be heavier, and have better steering. Again, sheer force of will got me out of New York and into Vermont. I decided to stay in Rutland, which is home to a ski resort. It's about 70 miles from Burlington, but those miles were mostly on dark, unfamiliar two-lane highway. Stopping seemed like the thing to do.

I slept well, and then when I woke up, I found that the free hotel breakfast included waffles.

So I thought about Jesse, who would be on the road, too, by this time. I think he would have liked that they were there as much as I did. I remembered smiling with a group of good people I liked. And then I went ahead.

Things are OK here. Today I described it as being a little like fiddling while Rome burns here at headquarters. I don't really have a lot to do here, but what I'm doing... helps. I guess.

It's all been worth the effort. I'm still pretty tired, but I feel like I should have my head on straight in terms of sleep in a few days.

And after that, we'll see.

We hold these truths to be self evident...

In other words, I am not always sure what the answer is when I ask myself what I'm doing here. However, we've raised $1.5 million in the days since our less-than-stellar finish in Iowa. All of this has come in little chunks from small donors.

What drew me to the campaign was the idea that ordinary people, average Americans who grew up with a deep respect for the ideals this country was based on -- a set of freedoms on which our constitution was based, and self government -- could get together to take us back toward those ideals.

This is what we're about. You can say anything you want about the other candidates, but here at the Dean campaign, we're all about the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence.

And I think that's all right.

But I know it when I see it

Between Des Moines and the DC metro area that I call home, it's pretty much either ice, snow, or a mix of both. Although my route is all major interstate highways, I just don't think that's what I want to drive in.

This morning I almost killed myself by running into a snowdrift and hitting a concrete wall as I was headed onto the highway this morning. I'm not exactly sure how I steered out of that. The Saturn came to a stop, barely brushing against the concrete barrier, and nobody else hit me. It seemed like somebody who knew more than I do about steering in slippery conditions took over the wheel for about 30 seconds.

Of course, I don't believe in that kind of thing, but I had no idea what I was doing.

In any case, getting back on a slippery highway with all my junk packed into the Saturn isn't teally my number one priority.

Eventually, I'll get out of this place.

I guess this is just another lost cause, Mr. Paine.

This past week was long, and so hard. Looking back, I am shocked that everything happened in the space of so few days. The field staff left Thursday morning; Reid left a few hours later, and as each one took leave, a greater quiet descended on the building that had buzzed with activity every moment of every day for such a long time.

Everything that can be summed up in the word "it" is out of our hands now, except for the cleaning up. Our people, the lessons we all learned, they've gone out there to prove that we did actually learn something.

We agreed last night that we'd come in late, so I got to the office around 1. I don't usually mind the quiet, but today the sense of how much has changed seeped through my every pore and wanted to carry me away with it. I kept thinking of some lyrics from an 80s song. "If I could find a souvenir just to prove the world was here..." so I looked up the rest, and it ends "And here is a red balloon. I think of you and let it go."

So I'm sitting in a Borders wondering what's going to happen to all of us and our notion that we could come together to make something great: an energized electorate. We did that, but we were foolish to think that such a thing would be accepted with open arms.

The cause feels lost right now, but I know it's not. Those of us who are left behind in Iowa, in this weird limbo where none of us know where we're going, or when, we are all tired to the point of exhaustion. We don't know what to do any more, except to pick up a few more pieces and try to figure out where they might complete the puzzle.

Because I haven't forgotten the story of Pandora and the box; I know that hope is still in there, and I know that the folks who left Iowa earlier in the week -- as well as the folks who never were in Iowa -- are stronger now than I am. They haven't had time to stop yet.

I'll keep on fighting the good fight, because that's what you do. At least that's what I do.

before - after