Northern Lights

You know it's a slow news day when one of the lead stories is about how cold it has been in Alaska this  January. Down here in the lower forty-eight we pride ourselves on living within a range of more moderate latitudes than those circling the North Pole. For me, at least, not moving to Alaska is one of the more prudent real estate decisions I have ever made. 

What is really newsworthy is the virtual heat wave we are enjoying down in these parts, with temperatures approaching sixty degrees as we enter February. I, for one, knowing that there are no glaciers melting into ponds at the moment, have chosen not to worry about any holes in the ozone that might be causing the warmth in this corner of the globe. Instead, I am enjoying the shedding of excess outerwear, the dog walks through puddles rather than filthy piles of snow. Last night, I took the garbage out without fear of slipping on black ice. A good thing, particularly since I have no shoulders left to dislocate. 

I am grateful to the folks in Alaska for taking one for the team, for slogging through a deep freeze that would have to make it all the way through the wilds of Canada before crashing our unusually warm winter party. And, speaking of Canada, I am grateful to those folks as well, and not just for being the only thing that stands between me and freezing my ass off. We tend to take Canada for granted, thinking of them as the black sheep of the continent (at least Mexico has good beaches), but Canada, just a quick hop across the border, is a tempting safe haven to many of us for whom the American dream might become a nightmare. 

There's the availability of affordable health care, for example, no small perk for someone who will soon be tossed out there at fifty-two to seek her own insurance. From what I hear, any pre-existing condition, like, say, a hang nail, could make any insurance plan cost prohibitive. There's always the appeal of draft evasion, should we ever enter into a war that more directly threatens the well being of our upper middle class sons (hope mine doesn't mind a short road trip in the trunk). And, to my knowledge, the governmental powers that be in our northerly neighbor would never approve the addition of a chemical compound used to make fertilizers, household cleaners and roll-your-own explosives  to fast food hamburgers. (Yes, today is another slow news day, and I found myself on the verge of vomiting as I read about how McDonald's is finally agreeing to stop using "pink goo" to turn meat scraps into edible burgers, even though the FDA has deemed the stuff to be "relatively safe.") I'm willing to bet that, in Canada, goo is goo and food is food and people don't eat explosives; it's why they can afford to provide all that health care.  

Come to think of it, maybe there are a few too many holes in the ozone down here.