Some days, they're just too pooped to fly.

A lump of coal.

I'm as conscious of the environment as the next person. I cringed yesterday when, at the Fred Meyer Fuel Stop on 164th in Vancouver, the auto shut-off on the nozzle allowed a few milliliters of gasoline to overflow my fill tube and release themselves into the environment.

I'm always re-directing Tracey's recyclables from her garbage to the proper place. I don't think we ought to be dumping paint thinner into our rivers. Hell, I'm concerned about runoff from chemical fertilizers finding their way into the entire Willamette Valley river system so I appreciate farmers who are growing organic or - in the case of vineyards, are LIVE certified, but this is too much.

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not up to speed on the emissions from burning coal vis a vis burning oak logs (Nostrana, Ken's Aritisan), but there's a place in NE Portland that wants to install a coal-fired pizza oven like they have in New York City and New Haven, Ct. The neighbors (and the usual suspects) are screeching like owls.

C'mon. Just how much harmful material can a small, coal-fired oven produce over the course of a few hours a day? How many hoops are these people going to have to jump through with the city's building inspectors like Cathy Whims of Nostrana had to jump through for what is essentially a fireplace?

Tracey lives in Camas. Ever been there to enjoy the "Eau du Camas" from the pulp mill? It's lovely.

I say bring on the coal-fired oven.