Oil Sands in Canada

Doing research for this article kind of woke me up to how hard it is for any country to stop once momentum has started. Canadian citizens have begun to speak out pretty strongly against oil sands mining, but they thought it was a great idea a few decades ago--billed it as alternative energy and everything. Now 30% of Alberta's economy is based in petroleum, and forest after forest is clear-cut to get to the oily sand underneath.

And this might happen in America. . .

So, something to educate yourself about:
http://buildaroo.com/news/article/oil-sands-tar-sands-tar-pits-canada-energy/

cookie chem

Cookies without eggs can work. They also can not work.

I am beginning to think that had I learned chemistry through cookie-baking, I'd be a world-class scientist by now. My curiosity is unlimited. How is it that one tablespoon of water changes the property of the dough completely, which then changes further after exposed to heat?

Alas, my chemistry studies were always, very regrettably, inedible. I think I'll be sticking to history for a little while longer.

when will i know you, winter?

Today my eyeball liquid froze. What is that stuff called, anyways?

Every year I think I have learned what "winter" entails, then every year I learn just how little I know. Like this crystalllization of my eyelashes.

When I walked inside, the melting eye-sicles looked made me look like I was crying.

Maybe this is why people see Northerners as less friendly--- to avoid accidentally catching someone "crying," they refrain from making eye contact! Friendly or not (and I happen to think the unfriendly thing is a way to help us in the South pat ourselves on the back), the Northerners understand cold weather much better than I do. 

I also learned that all the dirty snow does, in fact, have dirt in it. I suppose we mostly find this out in the springtime, and even then, rains clean up most of the mess for us. Well, my shoes are unfortunately spoiling the springtime surprise.

When I walk into the fitness center to work out, the dirty snow has been gradually melting on the elliptical foot rest (foot active-pad, maybe). As I leave to get water, I notice every time that mud has built up in the active-pad, that I tracked in somehow through the snow, proving once again the similarities between snow and fleas.

Now, if you'll excuse me-- I need a few minutes to bundle up for my journey to the mailbox.

Hydrofracking-- endangering water to get natural gas?

If you live in TX, CO, WY, NY, PA, OH, WV, or another state in which hydraulic fracturing for natural gas takes place-- or even if you don't-- you should try to learn more about it

http://buildaroo.com/news/article/hydraulic-fracturing-environmental-concerns/

Sweetgums, Stranded! Wild Winter Weather in Lawrenceville, Georgia

Protected by a mountain of ice, the sweetgum balls sit barricaded in the safety provided by the funeral home parking lot. These seedy balls fell from their tree captors before the cold weather came, and now find themselves cemented to the asphalt in this most isolated fashion.

Will they escape? Will the sun free them from their icy enclosure? Tune in next time to Sweetgums, Stranded! Wild Winter Weather in Lawrenceville, Georgia.

Little sweetgum ball: Alone in the icy tundra. 

A (painfully ironic) iceberg of sweetgum ball in the ocean of ice

Mercilessly stranded, they find themselves unable even to communicate with one another; each alone in the rolling hills of ice.

Her lover attempts to mitigate the situation, but all he can do is hold her hand and hope that everything will be okay.

Cold, lucky bastard. In falling after the ice accumulated, he escaped the immobility that now envelopes his peers.

Even colder, luckier bastards. They sit on their high horse-- err, tree-- and ignore their stranded brethren below.

The sun, their only hope for rescue, is hindered by the same clouds that dropped the snow and ice that led the little sweetgums to their predicament in the first place.

forgetting frames of reference (snow!)

I walked into my parents' house this evening to hear my mother exclaim, "Look at your hair! Go look in the mirror!"

Was there something growing on it? Perhaps I cut some off accidentally, or dyed it green Anne-of-Green-Gables-style?

None of the above. It was snow.

I was born and raised in Georgia, but have lived north of the Mason-Dixon Line (gasp!) for over four years now. Snow retains the rudimentary magic with which I first beheld it, probably since my snow-self is really only four and a half years old. Maybe I will always feel that awe after missing out on it regularly in childhood.

Despite my continued love for snow, I no longer see it as unusual. Growing up and moving away teaches me that I've readjusted my normailty in a lot of ways, but not until my mother's comment this evening did I realize that even my internal weather system has transitioned to a colder neutrality. Snow might be exciting, but a flake on my hair is about as odd as an acorn below an oak tree--- that's just where they fall. 

I can laugh at my mom if I want, joining other Yankees as they scoff at wimpy Southerners. Losing that awe is less humorous, though, than a reminder that I've changed and readjusted. I'm in "my parents' house," after all; it's no longer "mine," as well.

So, I looked in the mirror. The snowflake made me smile and remember that snow might be old hat for me today, but it was a luxury when all I knew was Dixie.