Ripton, Vermont

Dear Kurt,

Thanks for the Valentine. Do you remember Marge Gunderson, the detective in the film Fargo?

"So, you were havin' sex with the little fellow, then?"

"Oh, for Pete's Sake, he's leaving the interview! He's leaving the interview!"

"You betcha!"

On February 14th, the Quitter (rhymes with chipper) enjoyed race day in Florida:
http://www.sun-sentinel.com/sports/os-nascar-daytona-500-sarah-palin-0215-20100214,0,596430.story

“Haven’t thought a darn thing about the politics of this. I’m thinking about this good, active, speed-loving event that a lot of Alaskans, too, are really into. We’ve got our snow-machine races up there, and this is, of course, on a much greater scale, same type of sport though, same type of breath-taking, speed-loving, All-American event that we like to see up north." (Todd was back home, preparing for the Iron Dog race.)

Whatcha think?

Last week, I had a nightmare. A rip current was pulling me into the sound. The slither of water and gravel is still in my head. It was low tide but I could see waves surging. This was transition time, when the tide floods back to shore. I woke up and did some checking. Rip currents are different from rip tides, and then there's the undertow.

I told Ian about my dream. He’s a surfer. Certainly he’s aware of these things, but I had to make sure.

On February 13th, large sneaker waves (not rogues) broke bones at a surfing competition in Half Moon Bay. The following day, an Oregon man was swept out to sea trying to rescue his dog from a rip. The day after that I went to Golden Gardens, looking for glass hearts. I found a confetti heart half-buried in the silt of Meadow Point. My nightmare beach.

Dog-eating waves and mini tsunamis, all generated in the Gulf of Alaska.

Shifting patterns and big waves were predicted in climate change models. Buffalo, NY, is normally buried by blizzards, but this year they fell further south.

Alaskans don’t have to truck in powder this winter. There was enough to kill another snowmobile fan, an oil executive who rode into an avalanche on the Kenai Peninsula.

For rogues like Sarah, climate change studies are “snake oil science.”

Bill McKibben’s Valentine’s race was cancelled for lack of snow. If I was a prayer warrior, I'd think that God was punishing Vermont for harboring a climate change enthusiast. I don’t pray, but the climber who fell into the crater of Mt. St. Helen’s died on a mountain he probably loved.

The interconnectedness of it all.

"Prowler needs a jump."