More than 10 years ago, in late October, an abandoned property on North Ave. in San Diego’s University Heights community was fixed up as a neighborhood fright-fest for local kids. I’ve called the place the […]
The so-called “traffic calming measures” along Meade Ave. at Alabama and Louisiana are nearly complete. I will be sorry to see the “road closed” signs come down—and I won’t be alone. California schools and many local businesses (still) are shut because of the COVID-19/SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2) pandemic. Semi-blocked Alabama—and to lesser degree Louisiana—is a makeshift cul-de-sac where kids bike, run about, and skateboard. Soon, the party’s over, following nearly six month’s construction.
As of this week, all 50 US states are partially to semi-completely reopened. Meanwhile, the Novel Coronavirus rages on. According to the Center for Systems Science and Engineering at Johns Hopkins University, there are, as I write, nearly 5 million confirmed cases (4,996,472) in 188 countries and 328,115 reported deaths. Soon to be 100,000 of the dead are from the United States (93,439 currently).
Strange the things you see every day and ignore until the unexpected occurrence draws your attention. Last week, for reasons I won’t bother guessing, YouTube’s algorithm recommended video “I Bought An Airstream! Tiny Home Project” by vlogger Monica Church. Bored, I watched—and, admittedly, intrigued.
Yesterday, while walking along the alley behind Coronavirus-closed LeStat’s, I walked by the Airstream perennially parked there and took fresh notice. With the “shelter-in-place” orders still shuttering most businesses, but restrictions marginally lifting in California, the area was deserted—and I had been looking for something, anything, reasonable to photograph. Out came the Leica Q2.
Times are tough for small businesses that thrive on person-to-person contact, courtesy of stay-at-home orders closing commercial operations and schools. California Governor Gavin Newsom has outlined a four-stage reopening ramp-up to semi-normalcy. Nail salons are relegated to the third phase. Psychics, too, perhaps?
How unfortunate, because reliable fortune-telling should be in big-time demand during the pandemic. If I were this soothsayer, who should be able to see the way without my saying, Zoom would be the remote-conferencing choice rather than FaceTime. Gather together a family and offer a group discount, or employees from a (supposedly) temporarily closed business. They have questions, and you have answers!
Yesterday, while walking up Monroe Ave. on the west side of San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood, I came upon an unexpected sign of hope—and maybe a little despair—strangely appropriate as Mother’s Day approaches and the […]
About a month ago, I spotted a porker outside of a cottage apartment that my wife and I briefly considered renting sometime last year. While charming, with excellent windows, and lower monthly obligation than our current place, the one-bedroom flat came up short on living space; we wanted a little more square footage, not lots less. How then is it big enough for the current residents, which I guess includes the pig?
Then there is the question of pet rent, which already is an abomination applied to cats and dogs—and it’s too common a fee here in San Diego. Consider BLVD North Park, which actually is located in University Heights: Prospective tenants pay a $400 deposit for their animals and $50 additional monthly rent for each one. The fifty, even one-hundred, is typical for places demanding the fee—and so is $500 for deposit, which may not be refundable. Landlords could as reasonably pump a pint of blood from each resident, every 14 days, for the plasma. The vampires.
The weather is unseasonably warm this week, here in San Diego. Temperature reached 26 degrees Celsius (about 80 F) this afternoon. I set out for a morning walk, when cooler, and surprisingly found what is the Featured Image. We all may be ordered to “shelter-in-place” and to “social distance“, but people still go outdoors—and exercise is all the more important to folks whose gym routines are upended by closure of most businesses.
The make-shift “fitness circuit” is wonderful remedy for anyone looking to maintain a physical exertion routine or to use the lockdown as opportunity to improve health through increased activity. Sunlight is an excellent source of Vitamin D, which offers several health benefits—improved immunity is one of them. That could assist the body’s fight against the ravages of SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)—aka COVID-19.
Trash and recycle collection is underway throughout San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood—and, whoa, is it needed. The cans overflow like I’ve not ever seen in the nearly 13 years living here. Shouldn’t surprise with most stores closed and Californians ordered to stay at home (e.g., “shelter-in-place“). Damn the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)—aka COVID-19—pandemic for the catastrophe unleashed on communities, counties, and countries across the globe. As asked three weeks ago: “I Wonder Which Will Flatten First: Us or the Curve?”
The Featured Image (warning: 25MB file), taken on March 31, 2020 using Leica Q2, shows what happens with some of the refuse. The pizza box is one of three stuffed in a hedge. Seriously? Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 125, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 11:16 a.m. PDT. The companion shot, from the same camera yesterday, gives glimpse of overflowing cans that typically wouldn’t be. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/8, ISO 100, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 4:25 p.m.
When starting this series on New Year’s Day, I couldn’t imagine that a viral pandemic would sweep across the human landscape and come to affect some of the selected images. I started closely watching spread […]
Not long after the series featured Steppy seven months ago, I observed his buddy nearby. But Spring 2020 would come before I snagged even a remotely usable portrait. Look carefully at the Featured Image, and you will discern a second cat on the can; the beasties await their supper on April 7. Pardon the mess, which includes strewn wet food cans; heavy rains fell that day and the previous one. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 16, 1/392 sec, 52mm (film equivalent); 4:59 p.m. PDT; iPhone XS.
The black earns nickname Dusky for color and early darkening of the late-afternoon sky stemming from imposing storm clouds on March 31, when I used Leica Q2 to capture the companion. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/11, ISO 200, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 5:04 p.m.
Am I delirious, or delusional, or is that a bat on the 2020 American quarter? Earlier today, I picked up three rolls from the bank, for laundry, and one of them was filled with these freshly minted surprises—and they’re freaking me out. Humanity is in the grips of a viral pandemic that started in China and supposedly jumped species—from bat to Homo sapiens. So why is there one—no, two—on this year’s 25-cent coins? Is it coincidence? Prophetic? Subliminal manipulation? For that last one, pick your X-Files conspiracy-theory protagonist: Chinese Communists, American liberals, US conservatives, President Trump, greedy capitalists, or— why not—alien invaders seeking to control us all through mind-controlling vaccines.
As I write, according to the Center for Systems Science and Engineering at Johns Hopkins University, SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)—also known as COVID-19—has killed 144,047 people in 185 countries and there are 2,157,108 confirmed cases. And those are considered to be relatively good numbers, compared to recent projections. Apparently, the majority of countries closing most businesses and all schools, while encouraging citizens to stay home, has dramatically slowed spread of the contagion.
For the second consecutive day, I broke quarantine. Yesterday, my wife and I took a chance drive to Costco Business Center, hoping to grab a few extra bulk items. Each grocery trip risks exposure to SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2), also known as COVID-19. Luckily, the warehouse was fairly calm, and we were able to purchase most of what we wanted—and items that could be precious should there be prolonged lockdown, or worse, panic in the streets. That was supposed to be the last supply run. Except…
Last night, a discovery: The pet grass that I planted for the cats had developed mold, and growing a new batch would take days. So, this morning, I walked 2.3 km (1.4 miles) to Ralph’s supermarket, which sells the same brand: Priscilla’s. Along the way, I counted the number of people passed to see which ones wore a face covering. The results stunned. Fifteen percent, which is a dramatic decrease from a few days ago. What changed?