The most introspective time of the year

It looked bigger in the barn.

Hi there. Just stopped in to make sure the pipes haven't frozen and somebody's still feeding the racoon. Check and check. 

I do pay a couple of troubled youths to drop by from time to time. They are not diligent, but neither are they expensive. I pay them in empty beer bottles from Bayern Brewing, which are redeemable for a piddling discount on the next six-pack. Not a livable wage, but I assume they have other income streams. Petty theft and so forth.

Anyway, the place looks OK. Graffiti is minimal and the tramps haven't burned the sofa. Knock wood. The toilet seems to be clogged, but maybe that will discourage further use.

I'm thinking of selling. This being Missoula, developers have expressed interest in buying the Warehouse and chopping it up into 450-square-foot condos. Each unit would rent for $5,000 a month or sell for 750 large. Seems steep, but around here that's called affordable housing. You're welcome. I just like to give something back the community.

I've started a thousand blog posts since, let's see, last September, but the news keeps breaking my concentration. So to hell with it. At least for now. It's snowing in Montana and it's time for this oldster to take the short view and count his many blessings.

We got our Christmas tree today. A genuine Doug fir. Paid way too much and it's not as towering as some of our others have been. But it's real. 

Most people I know have succumbed to the convenience of artificial evergreen. I don't blame them. But somehow I view that as a marker. Maybe the last marker on the way to being actually elderly. Next thing, you're riding one of those adult tricycles and playing pinochle at the Senior Citizens. Going through the Costco circular and stopping at the discount on Depends. And then you're paying someone to assemble your artificial tree.

Anyway, Christmas cometh. Hence the real tree and now the real aroma of evergreen. I like this time of year. It's not about the gifts or the parties or the forced bonhomie. I like the short days and long nights. I like the cold, as long as I'm sensibly dressed. I don't understand snowbirds.

OK, I'm out of here. No sense locking up; I'm sure the youths have misplaced their keys. Catch you on the flip side.