You never outgrow the excitement of a snow day.

Granted, as a grown up, I have the nagging voice in the back of my head telling me that we'll have to make it up in a month or two. But for the moment, the childlike squeal of delight at the prospect of spending a ridiculously cold Tuesday morning in my pajamas, watching Robert Redford and Paul Newman in The Sting instead of trudging off to work, is drowning out the more rational side of my nature. I mean, really, how could you listen to negative thoughts when you have this image in front of you:

One of the less unfortunate things I definitely inherited from my mother is a healthy appreciation for Robert Redford and Paul Newman.

And whatever happened to men wearing hats?

Warms me up just lookin' at him. You can keep your hyperbolated (hyperbolized?) weather watches and traffic reports, the trademark of all Texas television networks who will spend the rest of this wintry day toggling between road cams and cub reporters standing on the side of a treacherous overpass in the middle of a thundersleet* storm; I plan on watching Paul Newman's icy baby blues playing poker on a train.

*Never heard of thundersleet? Me neither...until this morning