green onion pancakes

I just found them on the fairway.  If I have to be rolled home next week, that'd be why. 

Still!

Yesterday I was telling my coworker that I actually kind of like seeing the city shut down like this.

I grew up in Alaska; my childhood reading was To Build a Fire and Tisha and Mrs. Mike *, and you kept a down sleeping bag in the trunk of the car as soon as winter hit and were constantly drilled to keep your feet dry and always stop for stranded strangers. It wasn't just an aphorism, it was something you could feel bone-deep: if you are not vigilant, the environment will kill you.

In a more temperate climate, there just isn't the same danger. (It's possible to freeze to death here but you'd have to work at it.) So it's almost reassuring to me when a winter storm like this one gobsmacks the tenderfeet with my earliest lessons. Respect nature. We are small and fragile and no match for what it can throw at us.

And then people who didn't learn the value of caution and fear nearly drove two charter buses full of students over a twenty food drop, and my sanctimony felt a lot less fun. Jesus. My condolences to all who will spend the next weeks and months dealing with the physical and emotional fallout of a wrong turn.

* This maybe says a lot about me, but I was surprised to see Mrs. Mike reviewed as a romance. What I remembered from my pre-teen reading was frozen feet and babies dying of diphtheria and malaria and charred bodies in the wells after wildfires. Did I miss a whole bunch of smooching?