There are many things I miss about wintery climes. But treading gingerly on miniature balls of ice along a busy highway while gripping plastic bags full of provisions in my gloveless hands, the tips of my fingers stinging with cold, because my conference has been cancelled for today and my rental car is covered with a sheet of ice and, even were I to defrost the windows, too dangerous to deploy under these conditions, is definitely not one of them. It's not even going to be a pretty ice storm, I'm afraid. And tonight's key party has been cancelled, since everyone is being advised to stay off the roads. On the other hand, I did cross the Preston Highway to the liquor store -- this is a place where you can't buy your alcohol just anywhere -- and picked up a pint of Kentucky-made Jim Beam with which I can give myself the sensory illusion of warmth tonight, should the heater in my room once again struggle to operate as its creator intended. In other words, I'm still having a blast here in Louisville. Wish you were here.