This week's subject for the weekly Photo Challenge was suggested by Photographics:

I haven't had anything suitable for entry in the challenge for a while, so, of course, I have too many for this one.  The first three of these are recent work.  Those below them are older.

The kitchen timer woke me some time after eight this morning.  From that, I could deduce that Doug had gone to sleep some time after six.  We use the timer to ensure that it is not the cold ensuing after a fire burns too low that wakes one of us.  We can reliably assume that a fire will last at least two hours.

Using a large round, and closing the draft down almost all the way, once gave us a nine-hour fire in this stove.  That was election day, when it was not much below freezing, both of us were going away, and we had little idea what to expect with the new stove.  This morning, it is over thirty below outside, and Doug's fire made up of small splits, which was still too hot for me to add wood when I woke, had it up to 55°F in here.

I sat up in bed when I noticed that I didn't need to bound out of its warmth and tend the fire immediately.  I knew better than to lie there and close my eyes again.  I'd been sitting there five minutes or so when Doug stirred on the couch, across the room by the stove.  He reached out toward the coffee table, patting around for his glasses, and muttered, barely intelligibly, "I've got it."

He had, I suppose, heard the timer and waited a while for the sounds of my getting dressed before deciding it would be up to him to tend the fire.  I told him I was sitting up and the fire was okay, and he settled back to sleep.  He's snoring in my ear now, just across the back of the couch, which is in the "living room" area of this big room, backed up to the end of the computer desk, which has the "dining" table (loaded down with my jewelry making tools and materials) butted up to its other end.

Right after I recognized that the fire didn't need my immediate attention, I noticed the big old walking stick, one end braced against the door and the other end butted against the base of the T-shaped divider that takes up the middle of the room.  The most obvious and likely correct deduction from that was that one or more cats had gotten cabin fever and tried to open the door.  A few other possibilities exist, such as an early-awakening bear out there, a drunken neighbor looking for shelter or trouble, or a shift of the foundation blocks that would allow the door to swing open by force of gravity.  I'm guessing cats.

Longtime readers will know about the avalanche from the roof of the little cabin beside the trailer, that busted in the door and took out the latch plate and part of the door frame, even before we moved in here.  The doorknob basically fills a hole in the door and provides a handle for opening it.  There is no need ever to turn the thing, because the door has nothing to latch to.

I sat there with my legs still under the covers and watched the fire burn down to coals, thinking about social issues, paradigm shift, addictions, aberrant psychology... just the usual stuff.  I crawled out of bed, pulled my sno-jogs on over the two layers of socks I'd slept in, and brushed my hair.  Then I found my hat where it had landed by the pillow, put it on, donned the polar fleece vest-over-hoodie combo I'd taken off as a unit and laid on the bed the night before, and zipped them both.  I had slept in a sweatshirt and my sweat pants over long johns, so I was good to go.

Once I had refueled the woodstove with a six-inch round in the back for long-burning, and a pile of fast-burning small splits in front and on top of it for immediate heat, I pushed the button on the preloaded coffeemaker.  By then, Koji had assured me that he was really serious about going outside, so I put him on the chain, one end of which snakes in through the gap in the door frame and hangs just inside the door in winter (It hangs on the outside wall beside the door in summer, when there's no danger of the snap hook freezing shut.).  I stood there and waited a minute or so. 

He was out there no longer than he needed to be.  After I let him off the chain, hung it back on its hook, and rewarded him with his routine biscuit for coming back, I got a table knife from the kitchen and used it to stuff the plastic grocery bags back into the gaps around the door, snugged the draft snake up against the bottom of it, washed my hands, and took a muffin from the freezer for my breakfast.  About that time, the coffeemaker signaled the end of its cycle and I nuked the muffin.

I had baked last evening.  I needed to devise a new recipe without milk because Cubby's, the big little store up at the Y intersection on the way to Talkeetna, had neither goat's milk nor plain unsweetened yogurt and my supply from the last trip to Wasilla is nearly gone.  I improvised with eggs and nut meal for protein.

Whisk together in a large mixing bowl:

In a separate bowl, beat

Add, beating after each addition:

Preheat oven to 375°F (190°C).  Line muffin pans with 24 paper baking cups.  Spoon by 1/4 cup measures into lined muffin pans. Bake about 20 minutes at 375°F (190°C).  Let muffins rest in pans 10 minutes, then remove and continue cooling on racks.  Makes 2 dozen muffins, and can be frozen for reheating in microwave.

As they were baking, Doug asked me, "Why am I smelling spices?"  I replied that I was baking muffins.  He said it smelled more like sausage and I said I'd used five spice.  While they were cooling, a stealthy cat or cats got onto the stove and took little bites from the tops of three hot muffins.  Either they didn't like the flavor, or the heat discouraged them.  I managed to polish off those three muffins last night, sealed the rest in coffee cans and froze them.

Just now, while I was typing the recipe above, Greyfox called.  We talked about the weather -- it's about the same there in Wasilla as it is here, fifty miles up the valley.  He updated me on how we're doing for cell minutes (less than half an hour a day for the rest of the period), and shared some business details with me.  We talked a while about the ways we're coping with the cold.

He has moved some cases of canned and bottled food and drinks away from walls and off the floor, where they are now in the way one way or another.  Doug and I moved our full water jugs and buckets off the floor and onto the tops of empty ones, and still had one left over, which is now on the coffee table. 

Everyone will be glad to see the end of this cold snap.  With a malfunctioning engine block heater, my car would need a different source of external heat (hot coals in a pan under the engine, an electric heater on the ground under a tarp over the engine compartment, or some equivalent) before I'd even try to start it.  Low on dog food, kitty litter, milk... with enough water for no more than one or two dishwashings, I must make a move soon and don't want to do it at 30° below zero.

These are things I've been talking about and dealing with, but not necessarily what has most been on my mind.  Through it all, I keep thinking about crazy people, cultural evolution, neuroelectrochemistry, and other shit like that, and blogging.  Where would I be without the outlet of my blog?

Where?  Right here, of course, on the edge of the fringe of the back of beyond, in a trashy trailer I got for free, which is worth every cent I paid for it, with a dozen cats, a husky dog who has one floppy ear, a biscuit addiction, and a taste for muffin wrappers, cat butts, and used kleenex.  Oh... and that sleeping "kid," my enigmatic, self-willed, devoted, reliable and ingenious slacker gamer son, who went out around sometime between 3 and 4 AM today to split firewood because the wood box had gone empty while he was involved with the Nintendo DS and the PS2.

The sound of the door and the wave of cold air woke me when he came in the first time, empty-handed.  He said the light wasn't working.  It's a low-wattage energy saving fluorescent floodlight.  At temps around freezing, it hesitates a few seconds before lighting and then takes a few minutes to get up to full brightness.  We hadn't yet had cause to use it at thirty below.  I told him to leave the switch on and it might come on when it warmed up enough.

I was dozing lightly while he put fresh batteries in a flashlight and prepared to split wood by that light, as he'd done for years before we rigged the floodlight a month or so ago.  I heard him go out and come right back.  That trip was for the purpose of leaving the flashlight and warming his hands while the floodlight got up to speed -- it had come on.  I looked out there and could see a dim glow up on the big tree.  Doug told me for the second or third, but not last time, that I needed my sleep.  I said I intended to stay awake until he'd finished splitting wood.

He reminded me that he had been doing that task for over twenty years, since he was about seven years old, and had gotten only a few bruises.  He assured me that he'd scream if he needed help.  I protested that the snow might muffle his screams, and the fans in here would impair my hearing.  He gave up and went to work, and I waited, listening to the irregular thumps of the axe hitting the wood.  A few times there were anxious pauses, I suppose as he moved a new round onto the chopping block or pushed some splits out of his way.  Then, after the longest, most anxious quiet, I heard him approaching with an armful of wood.

We exchanged a few words, he reminded me again that I need my sleep, and then I got a few more hours before that kitchen timer went off.

To Greeks of the Pythagorean school, moderation was believed to create harmony.  There are still people who advocate moderation in all things.  Narcotics Anonymous, for one, does not.  Knowing that addicts can't moderate drug use, they say, "one is too many and a thousand never enough."

David F. Horrobin explained why alcoholics cannot moderate drinking.  From Chapter 11 of Mary Greeley's book, Alcoholism as an Allergy:

Following published research by Dr. Joe Abdulla of Guy's Hospital, London, Dr. Horrobin studied the effects of alcohol on platelets.  Independently, Dr. John Rotrosen of NYU's Dept. of Psychiatry and the Veteran's Administration Center, did almost the same experiments.  Both experimenters concluded that, "alcohol at concentrations relevant to human drinking has a potent effect on PGE1."

Dr. Horrobin's recommended treatment for alcoholism is twofold:  first reducing the cravings, and then avoiding or reversing the damage from the lack of PGE1.  He does not address a way to reduce cravings.  Many doctors do it with toxic drugs such as antidepressants.  We do it with individually targeted orthomolecular supplements of amino acids, vitamins and minerals.  We also follow Dr. Horrobin's recommendation for increasing PGE1:  evening primrose oil for GLA, with cofactors B6, B3, pyridoxine, niacin, zinc, magnesium, and vitamin C.

With other drugs, other prostaglandins are involved.  However, in any addiction, even those to activities and processes as opposed to substances, there are similar biochemical cycles:  the addiction stimulates some pleasurable or beneficial effect while at the same time depleting the chemistry involved in producing the beneficial effect.  Here is how nutramed.com describes some common food addictions:

Knowing what I know of addiction from firsthand experience and the shared experiences of other addicts, as well as from my reading of biochemical research, I would never recommend even moderate consumption of addictive substances.  I have noticed that most if not all of the people who recommend moderate consumption have an axe to grind, usually the defense of their own addictions, which they are reluctant to relinquish.

Many addicts go out of their way to avoid illicit drugs but will not consider what legal drugs are doing to their biochemistry and their health.  Many of them are obese and chemically impaired from their addictions to foods, so that their abstinence and/or recovery from drugs becomes difficult and painful, filled with temptations and cravings.

Supplements including vitamins, minerals, essential fatty acids and amino acids make it painless and easy to transcend any addiction, even those involving activities such as sex and gambling, when the supplements are used with an awareness of which neurochemicals need to be increased and which supplements do what.

• The book, Molecules of Emotion by Candace B. Pert, is a good general introduction to the subject.

• Alcoholism: The Cause and The Cure by Genita Petralli describes The 101 Program, which treats alcoholism nutritionally.

• Mary Greeley's book, Alcoholism as an Allergy explores some early work that tended to refute AA's contention that alcoholism is an incurable spiritual disease.
  

• The websites, Mood Cure and Diet Cure, and the book, End Your Addiction Now by Charles Gant and Greg Lewis, provide checklists that help one diagnose neurotransmitter imbalances. 

• Dr. Gant's book, End Your Addiction Now, and the books, Mood Cure and Diet Cure by Julia Ross, also contain information on which supplements will balance specific deficiencies, empowering us to heal ourselves.

Internists and most primary care physicians do not use nutritional programs to treat addiction.  An orthomolecular physican can do the diagnosis for you and recommend the necessary supplements, if you are not comfortable with self-healing.

There are many healthful ways to stimulate the production of beneficial biochemicals such as PGE1 and the pleasure neurotransmitters such as dopamine.  These include physical activity, learning new information or skills, and creative expression.  Many people find all the "highs" they desire, simply by being of service to others.  Forget moderation.  For health, avoid addictive things completely and throw yourself wholeheartedly into your creative outlet, charitable work, or your pursuit of knowledge.

This entry is condensed from a more detailed original.

One recent post (posted yesterday) is showing, in that space at its bottom where the number of comments and props also show up, that it has been viewed over 2500 times.  My feedback log shows only about 1500 footprints for the entire week.  Don't page views show up in footprints, even when anonymous?  How can this anomaly be explained?

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The barometer has gone down about 0.02 inch of mercury today.  A few scattered clouds had moved in before dawn this morning (sun rose in a red sky at 10:23, sets at 3:44), and now the entire sky is gray overcast.  Current temperature, at -16° F, is almost twenty degrees warmer than it was 30 hours ago.  Forecast is for colder tomorrow, and little change into next week.  Think it will snow?

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Recently, on APRN's Talk of Alaska, the topic was underreported news stories of 2008.  Most were new to me, many were enlightening, but just one stuck in my mind long enough for me to pass it along.  An Alaska State Trooper in Fairbanks stole a prescription pad from his doctor, wrote himself some prescriptions for Oxycontin, and was busted for selling the hillbilly heroin.  Ain't that a hoot?

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For the first time ever, a U.S. presidential inaugural parade is going to include a gay and lesbian band and four groups representing indigenous nations.  The Crow Nation of Montana will take 24 paint ponies to Washington.  The float from Alaska will feature the Suurimmanitchuat Eskimo Dance Group.  Have you ever seen Eskimo dances, or heard the hoop drums?  Pure magic!

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Animal Planet endangers lives at sea: Japanese whalers say

The activists group is called Sea Shepherd, and they are being filmed by Animal Planet on board the Steve Irwin for a show called Whale Wars on the actions they take against the Japanese whalers.