We got at least 6 inches of snow last night. More is due over the weekend. I was going to take a picture but I am sick of looking at snow - I'm tired of being cold, fed up with wearing sweaters. We're expecting a balmy high of 32°F tomorrow. 32. That's freezing, people. Literally.
There was a time, not too long ago, that I actually entertained the thought that perhaps the hysteria about global warming was warranted. I recycled, I bought the ugly light bulbs, and I worried about those damn polar bears, yes I did.
Last year on Easter Sunday, we had a blizzard - in April. A few weeks later, my pink magnolia blossoms, just beginning to peek out of their fuzzy little buds, were killed by a late freeze. The yard was littered with their sad little corpses. This year, snow records are higher than they have been in decades. And all those deadly hurricanes they predicted? Didn't happen.
Al Gore can show me charts and graphs until he's blue in the face. (and seriously, Al? Lay off the chemical peel spa treatments. You're starting to look like a Madame Tussaud's escapee.) I'm not buying what he's selling. Now, I'm not saying I'm going to start a new hobby of polluting. Keeping the environment clean is just a good thing to do, like washing those dishes in the sink and vacuuming the carpet. Nobody wants to live in filth. (Although, if it snows much more I might start wearing big 80's hair again - all that ozone killing Aquanet.)
So you know what? When Al Gore starts to act like global warming is real, say like riding a bike to work and reducing the carbon footprint of that enormous energy-sucking black hole of a house he lives in, then I'll start to worry. Until then, I guess you'll probably be able to find me up to my ass in snow, shoveling out the driveway.