Alas, the weatherman was right. It was, indeed, 0 degrees this morning when I awoke, and only 4 degrees by the time I dropped AJ off at preschool, where we waited in the hallway for his classroom door to open, surrounded by children so bundled up that they were wider than they were tall. I was sorely tempted to give one of them a shove to see if they would topple like dominoes, but I was pretty sure I�d be asked to leave, so I kept my hands to myself.

Instead of menacing preschoolers, I have spent the morning reading about old movies. My favorite line of the day was one film scholar�s assessment that Maurice Chevalier �is the Nelson Eddy of the dirty joke,� by which I suppose he meant that while Chevalier hams it up and overplays it, it is always clownish and never truly carnal. Or perhaps he just meant, �I�m a film scholar and can say meaningless things that you will think are profound and witty. Haha!�

I also had a nice chat with the husband of a friend of mine who so confused me by answering his home telephone during a work day (he is a lawyer who tends to log insane hours), that I apologized three times for bothering him at work before he was able to make me understand that I had dialed the right number and he was taking a day off to hang out with his kids. I hope my conversation redeemed me for my balloon-headedness.

And now, I shall take my helium elsewhere and attempt to put it to good use as a film critic. Perhaps I shall don a beret and smoke a clove cigarette for inspiration.

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