Where Madison Avenue ends, an expansive view begins—across Mission Valley below to the Pacific Ocean on the horizon. In the Featured Image, left of center, on the coastal area before the water, some of the rides at Sea World are visible.
The 95-percent crop won’t win awards for clarity; the task is beyond Leica Q2‘s reach. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/11, ISO 100, 1/80 sec, 28mm; 10:21 a.m. PST, Dec. 11, 2021. Location: San Diego Community of University Heights.
Finally, somebody puts these godawful traffic circles to good use. This afternoon, while walking along Louisiana Street, I came upon someone running around the edifice to poor transportation planning at Meade. The Featured Image is the first of four shots—all taken from the hip, using Leica Q2.
The person could be identified from any of the other three captures; not having permission to publish, I chose the back view; besides, sun is more pronounced in this one compared to the others. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/1250 sec, 28mm; 2:23 p.m. PST; composed as shot.
For the third day in a row, the Featured Image comes from Leica Q2 Monochrom. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/4, ISO 200, 1/400 sec, 28mm; 1:01 p.m. PST, today. I used the camera’s dedicated Macro mode, which is activated by turning a ring around the Summilux lens.
I spotted the red flower—with, if I recall rightly, white stamen and yellow pistils—while walking along Arch Street in San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood. The water droplets drew my attention, and I figured Why not black and white?—being no other choice really.
Two years ago a new optometrist recommended adding prisms to my eyeglass prescription in response to slight vertical misalignment in my vision. I was skeptical and made an appointment for another refraction with a doctor at the office that performed my cataract surgery. He confirmed slight double vision, but after attempting to make corrective adjustments with prisms he recommended against them. Their therapeutic value was uncertain, he concluded.
But the first optometrist was so insistent, when I returned to make my eyeglass order and the Varilux lenses came with satisfaction guarantee: The Essilor lab would make a new set should the prescription change—all within 90 days of purchase. I relented. The overall quality of the lenses satisfied so much that I decided to give my brain and eyes some time to adapt. But I never got to choose: The SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 pandemic made the decision for me, as my wife and I hunkered down during February 2020 and lockdowns started weeks later.
Today, I switched lenses, with a new prescription. Prisms are gone.
The mass hysteria about SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 and the public policy response brings forth a freshly minted mask mandate—from today until (at least) Jan. 15, 2022. Rising number of detected infections, coupled with fear about the Omicron variant, are major reasons for California’s restriction that applies to every public indoor venue and to all people—even the vaccinated. Am I supposed to feel relieved that the governor isn’t shutting down the state, like he did last Christmas? That we only have to cover our faces?
Not that there is any science to support the Omicron panic. Early epidemiology data from Southern Africa indicates that the new variant is considerably more contagious than the already highly infectious Delta. While infections rise, hospitalization and death curves are flat. Reported cases from South Africa, for example, are generally mild—and that’s in a population with relatively low vaccination rate (compared to the United States). But, as usual, the majority of news reports and guidance from the World Health Organization scare-monger about how terrible the variant could be—without presenting any data to support suppositions.
This post is sure to stir up trouble. I write sparingly about politics and rarely about religion because the topics are metaphorical loaded automatic assault weapons ready to blast endless emotional rounds of ammunition. Retaliation is swift. You can’t duck fast enough or return fire in the way of meaningful discussion. For too many people, conversation isn’t an option. To them, you are offensive and wrong. So safety is measured in silence before the easily offended.
But I uncharacteristically wonder outloud about faith, sparked by the Featured Image, which I captured on Nov. 20, 2021 using iPhone 13 Pro. Vitals: f/1.8, ISO 32, 1/1167 sec, 13mm; 12:45 p.m. PST. The church, located in San Diego’s Hillcrest neighborhood, has long puzzled me because of the six doors and what their combined colors represent. I had thought the canonized Bible—the same book the congregation presumably reads—prohibits behaviors and lifestyles which the institution embraces.
As my wife and I walked back from Smart and Final on Dec. 9, 2021, we passed by a shorthair along Polk between Alabama and Mississippi. The kitty is the eightieth seen behind door or window. That works out to 18 percent of the total profiles.
I used iPhone 13 Pro to capture the Featured Image. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 32, 1/231 sec, 77mm; 10:30 a.m. PST. This fine feline earns nickname Tinsel, for the Christmas lights and decorations for the time of year.
In what could be a real-life scene from film Toy Story, Sheriff Woody precariously hangs from the back of a Toyota Tacoma spotted along Mission Avenue in San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood. Where is Buzz Lightyear to the rescue? Take a closer look at either the Featured Image or companion and you will see that the cowboy doll is pad-a-locked in.
Both photos come from iPhone 13 Pro, yesterday. Vitals: f/1.5, ISO 50, 1/1698 sec, 26mm; 1:07 p.m. PST. The other: f/2.8, ISO 32, 1/319 sec, 77mm; 1:06 p.m. When I showed my wife the second shot, taken first, she observed that it’s not absolutely apparent that Woody hangs off the ground. So I took another.
The last issue of Nature—Vol. 600, No. 7887—awaits my reading attention. For this renewal cycle, publisher Springer raised my annual subscription price by 36 percent, pushing the cost beyond my budget.
I will miss the magazine but can’t complain. After the company stopped offering an iPad app digital edition four years ago, I phoned seeking alternatives and was presented with a half-off rate. While a discount remains, the new price is too steep when considering other subscriptions and weighing the value of each for the cost.
The second of two kittens seen frolicking on Nov. 22, 2021 crouched beneath a car after another vehicle passed loudly by—hence nickname Scooch. I stooped low with iPhone 13 Pro to capture the Featured Image. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 32, 1/314 sec, 77mm; 11:35 a.m. PST.
My wife and I each separately spotted one of the kittens; my eyes followed Springer. We have yet to see them again. But we’re watching!
Where Cliff Street and Panorama Drive meet, my wife and I independently each spotted a kitten on Nov. 22, 2021. Our approach along the sidewalk separated the two frolickers, unintentionally. I barely managed to snag portraits of both, using iPhone 13 Pro. Today we present the first; tomorrow the other.
The tiger tabby earns nickname Springer, for the position of its back legs as seen in the Featured Image. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 32, 1/234 sec, 77mm; 11:33 a.m. PST.
On Nov. 28, 2021, I pulled into the local gas station to fill up the tank. Because debit card-skimmers are frequent enough concerns around San Diego, I always pay with cash and usually even bills (e.g., tens or twenties). But uncharacteristically, I only had two fives and eight singles—or so I thought.
I counted in the car and then on the way to the Valero’s door. When handing the money to the cashier, I stated the amount and pump number. Outside, filling stopped at $16—and I thought: “How unusual to top off at an even number”. I walked inside for my change, but there was none.