In classic California form, the crunchy-autumn-leaves type fall I waxed on (and ON) about the other day has come to an abrupt halt. After a foggy season that left summer wardrobes hanging in the closet, the thermometer hovered at 106 degrees yesterday in Santa Barbara (113 degrees in Los Angeles)—a slight inconvenience when you sleep in a loft and that pesky heat continues to rise. See, when you live in Santa Barbara and you like to call yourself an artist (I know, I deserve a pinch under the arm for that), more than one room in a home is a luxury, dammit.