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I recently saw a TV rerun of The Addams Family, a favorite program from school days. I think Gomez and Morticia were wonderfully B. Back in the 60's they fenced (as did I), did yoga (70's for me), Morticia played the shamisen (I plucked other strings), their butler played harpsichord (as did I!), they served exotic teas (ditto) and kept unusual pets (Nope.). Most of all, they shared my exquisite appreciation of Gloom. I think of Morticia every time I hear myself saying "delightfully lugubrious", which is how I define San Francisco's unique weather at its absolute densest.
This year's July 4th fireworks were visible from below for the first time in at least a decade. Normally I watch 'em from my hilltop place, whence I can see them exploding in the clear air above the fog that obscures the view from the crowd below. July 4th falls squarely within Fog Season and can usually be relied upon to be downright cold. But this year, the whole week was warm. Sunday dusk, I sat writing by the fanned window, when that deep low horn sounded long and loud, from the west, over the whole city. I actually audibly said, "Yay! Here it comes!"
The fog. The mists. (Do I belong on a moor? I have to say, the Scots are notably higher in B than are the English or Irish.) "Our natural air-conditioning", 'tis said. I'm a fool for it.
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