I Pay My Bills Online

Today's mail delivery included the following items:

1) A copy of The Battle of Chile, Patricio Guzman's three-part documentary, just released on DVD;
2) An unlooked-for check for $61.xx, evidently my proceeds from some class-action suit of which I was unaware; and
3) My credentials for admission to the State Bar of California, indicating that I have now completed all of the requirments and have only to take the attorney's oath of office.

Which of these should be the most exciting?

Perception is Reality

One of these figures indicates a lovely, shirtsleeve day, while the other suggests bundle-up-in-a-warm-sweater chilliness. Hmmm.

It's Too Darn Hot

I'm still learning the nuances of heating with this wood stove.

And I haven't any lox, either

I have three bagles left: one asiago cheese, and two multi-grain covered with all sorts of seeds. I don't especially care for the seedy ones, especially since the caraway seeds kind of overwhelm all the other flavors, and I love-love-love the cheesy ones. But all three have to be eaten, and soon. So which do I eat this morning?

Ponder that question as I try to dislodge this caraway seed from my wisdom tooth.

The Dark End of the Street, Epilogue

It was a particularly frosty night, but I had a very big log on the fire, and the indoor temperature was about 75 degrees at 3am. This is what it was at 9am.

Brrrrr.

Why the South Ain't Gonna Rise Again, Reason #2,753

Southerners can't count.

“I am running for one reason and one reason only, and that is to change a state headed in the wrong direction and to come back here and raise grandchildren.” -- Roy Barnes, candidate for Governor of Georgia, as quoted in the New York Times, Sunday, Dec. 6, 2009, Page A1 of the New York edition.

The Dark End of the Street

My house is perched on the eastern edge of a riverbluff, with expansive and breathtaking eastward views over the Eel River and to the Coast Range beyond.

To the north I have a hedge, which was about 15 feet tall before my landlord trimmed it last month. At its new height of about 8 feet, I can see into the adjacent sheep pasture (now occupied by geese) and to the main house beyond. I can also see the river course for some miles in this direction, enabled by my large picture window.

On the west, my view is mostly of the rest of the bluff, the lower third of which is the main sheep pasture (this one occupied by sheep). The bluff rises up to its maximum height, perhaps another 100 or 150 feet, fairly steeply, which means my sunsets come backwards: when the sun sinks beyond the bluff, which is by 4pm this time of year, it's still sunny in the river valley to my east.

But the main problem is to the south, where there is a copse rising from the edge of the bluff to a maximum height of about 30 feet. It's lovely in the summer, and I guess it's still lovely, but it's only about 20 feet from my house, and that means that, for the past month or so, the arc of the sun has not risen above the treeline when seen from my house. That means that my house, or at least the portion of my house inhabited by humans rather than bats, receives no direct sunlight for a little less than half the year. This perpetual darkness means that my house can get very cold, even when it's not very cold outside.

My only source of heat is my wood-burning stove. If I stoke the fire at bedtime high enough to last the night, which I'm not sure is possible, it makes the house as hot as a Turkish bath. If I do not do this, and the fire dies in the wee hours of the morning, the house cools off so rapidly and thoroughly that it stays refrigerator-like all the next day. The third way is to keep the fire at a house-warming low level all night, but generally I sleep too deeply to wake up every two or three hours to add a log to the embers.

I guess the fourth way is to learn to enjoy the darkness and chill, and wait paitently for the sun's return in March.