Blustery Blues or Joyful Jazz?

So the cold front moved in to the country. We really have to do something about this weather immigration from Canada.
I started my annual game of "Is that ice?" this morning. It's a game where as you walk you have to decide if that section of concrete is covered with ice or not. Sometimes you can tell, sometimes you don't know until you've fallen flat on your butt. If you stay standing you win. Fall you lose. Easy enough. So far, I'm winning. My boss is losing. (HA!)
Winter seems to bring me into my more obscure passions in music. I've put aside the rock in favor of classical, jazz and blues and Gregorian chants. It always starts off so innocently, a Bing Crosby movie. The next thing you know I've got Nina Simone and Diana Krall singing in the morning, The Irish Tenors and Vivaldi in the afternoon, and Tom Waits and Louis Armstrong in the evening.
Somehow this transition makes it a lot easier to deal with the fact that I'm freezing and stressed... 
hmm all I hear when I hear "stressed" is the strained staccato of the trumpet in Tom Waits "Midnight Lullaby"
Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye
Hush-a bye my baby, no need to be crying.
You can burn the midnight oil with me
As long as you will
Stare out at the moon
Upon the windowsill, and dream...

Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye
Hush-a bye my baby, no need to be crying.
There's dew drops on the window sill,
Gumdrops in your head
Slipping into dream land,
You're nodding your head, so dream...

Dream of West Virginia, or of the British Isles
'Cause when you are dreaming,
You see for miles and miles.
When you are much older, remember when we sat
At midnight on the windowsill,
And had this little chat
And dream, come on and dream,
Come on and dream, and dream, and dream.