Holly

This picture is of the notorious intersection of Holly and Railroad, where all the hoodlums allegedly hang out. Having been in some rather bad parts of large cities in my life, I sort of chuckle when I hear this assertion. I've fet more threatened walking down Main Street USA in Disney World than I've felt here, but I was a bit younger when I was at Disney World. (I hope I don't jinx myself with that last statement and get rolled some night riding home down Railroad.) But Bellingham is a pretty small town, and considering I grew up in city of comparable size, there is virtually no crime here.

The biggest thing that I got accomplished today was putting little wooden covers on the vents on the tiny crawlspace under my eighty-year old house for the onslaught a cold front or two. I was told these cedar-sided homes were originally built for coalminers or lumbermen. And I, with a graduate degree, living in this house that a family with nary a secondary- or high-school education inhabited brand new, wonder how far have we progressed?

Sail

Here is a picture stolen from the city web site. I guess I should give it credit here.

Tonight I visited some friends that lived aboard their sailboat for a few years in the Sea of Cortez and then in the South Pacific. At least this evening's conversation buoyed my hopes of one of my life dreams to sail the Pacific for a year or two as crew on a sailboat and hop from island to island, with one boat or many. I understand many baby boomers are setting sail as they near retirement after being cooped up in corporate offices for much of their useful years and have limited sailing knowledge other than coastal or lake sailing. (Not that lake sailing is anything trivial. I sailed Lake Erie for years and it was some of the worst weather I ever experienced. Although St. Vincent was pretty bad too.) But there appears to be a need for able bodied crew with sailing background, so this is within reach. I understand yachts leave Bellingham with regularity for the South Pacific. Or if not down the road at the Squalicum Marina, then I certainly could gain passage from Seattle or Vancouver.

But back to reality, today was basically a work day (I thought is was Friday a few times) and I may have a few days in sequence to sleep in. I may try to not schedule anything too early until Wednesday, I hope.

Prorogue

My housemate acquired a free bike today, which will require minimal repairs to make it a daily rider. I will be glad to have a backup, as I rely upon my bike to get me all over town, and to be without one would be very limiting. I've been pretty much riding it every day for the last two-plus years, and amazingly all I needed to do was repack the rear hubs and keep it cleaned (and a few spokes and many tube patches), so sooner or later it may be out of service. So far, I have been amazed at how reliably that it has performed.

And some interesting news going on in Canada regarding Harper and his request to prorogue Parliament until late January:
"When Ms. Jean returned, there was more discussion, and then she granted the Prime Minister's request to prorogue, or suspend, Parliament, thus allowing him to escape Monday's scheduled vote of no-confidence that almost certainly would have torpedoed his minority Conservative government."
I am sometimes amazed at my ignorance of our northern neighbors, although I listen to the CBC for most of my news, so I probably know more about Canada than many of my countrymen.

Polaroid

Oddly enough. the staple of nineteen seventies picnics and holidays and little league baseball games is becoming a thing of the past: The Polaroid Instant Camera. The film is no longer being produced, so all those Polaroid cameras will become relix (relixes?) of a bygone generation or two. I have a friend in NYC that took a Polaroid of everyone that ever came into his East Village apartment. I am somewhere in his pile of thick prints framed by thick white borders.

But my housemate shot some 20"x24" Polaroid film as a project in art school and displayed them at this exhibit opening tonight on Western's campus. So her friend shows up with another couple and he lives four houses away from me. Small town. Art openings are fun and she does really neat work, and tomorrow is the Gallery Walk in Bellingham. This is always a fun time, but I will unfortunately miss it.

It is cold here but not that cold. Yet. Funny thing last night listening to a radio station on the AM dial that was coming in pretty clear and they were talking of the Canadian temperatures coming in at -16*C and I was thinking "oh here comes one of those Alberta Clippers" where the temps dip into the teens and you freeze your butt off for a few days, but oddly enough it was a station coming in from the cold Calgary prairie and not the more temperate Vancouver or Victoria, the latter being south of Bellingham.

Farms

It is interesting in Bellingham how closely people are always grounded in their livelihoods. A wide (and very rich) belt of farmland is to the north and south of here, and tremendous emphasis is placed upon such things as good food, active living, etc. I am sure there are plenty of those too that go home every night to their snout houses and 46" flat screens, but I do not know too many of them. I am sure that they are plentiful though.

Maybe too I've become more closely enmeshed in the local agriculture (by working wiith biodiesel - my home page for both computers is the CBOT bean oil prices) for growing local oilseed crops. Or maybe that there is the fact that so close by are fabulously healthy eating places. Today I found the best salad in the world at the Public Market for less than six dollars (for the large) with the miso-tahini dressing and sprouts and sunflower seeds. The place is called Seven Loaves Pizzeria (link here, last feature) and I cannot wait to return. Oh, and it was organic and locally grown.

The picture above is the farmers market from a few months back. My housemate works here on the weekends. Speaking of whom, she is made some wonderful Indian food tonight with eggplant and rice and beans.

More Fog

And again tonight the fog just arrived. The night of biking home late with the mist on my brow after an invigorating ride, with the muffled moist air surrounding me. It was neat to see the tiny water droplets in my headlight. And fortunately my single speed cruiser is still working diligently after two-plus years of steady use with minimal maintenance and nothing wearing out (other than the chain and many inner tubes and patched).

Here is a picture taken where may of the delicacies are prepared in the house. The cupboards are c.1928 and some day the imitation-wood formica countertops will some day come back into style. (Just like my mid-eighties bright red ski pants I still own.) Besides, granite is passé and I wouldn't be surprised of the radon reports aren't unfounded anyway.

Awake

Yesterday I may have had a spiritual awakening. I do not know specifically what triggered my altered world view towards two things. The first was the fact that I looked upon Magilla and for the first time realized that she was truly a beautiful dog. Maybe it was all the people making such a fuss over her at the dog park. Or maybe that she's one of the kindest dogs I've ever seen and she has the most distinct and defined markings. And I still felt that way about her this morning. Hmph.

The other change I experienced was the appreciation of being outside in the drizzle of winter and how connected the weather makes you to your surroundings - the ground and sky and evergreens and ferns and salty bay - and loving it. And not only is the rain refreshing, but it keeps everything clean and vibrant. I really look forward to the next bike ride in the rain. And it looks like I will carry my trusty rain gear with me for the next few months wherever I go. I hope I can retain this enthusiasm for those months.

The movie is taken last full riding up Chuckanut Drive (SR11) on my old BMW R60/6. Although you can't really see that well, to the left is the Puget Sound and 178 islands. The lower part is basically an untouched windy ribbon of road, although development (in the form of tacky big houses) creeps further and further down the highway. ("Call someplace paradise, kiss it goodbye..."). This road passes through one of the few remaining undeveloped vestiges where the Cascades Mountains meet the Puget Sound, once spanning all the way to Portland. Unfortunately it will no longer be within ten years, as the bulldozers and logging trucks are moving in and the roads are already cut. So sad.