Oh the things that turn up in San Diego alleys. I can only guess whether someone hung up this wet suit to dry or for some passerby to take. My wife and I saw the water-wear while walking down the alley separating Alabama and Florida streets here in University Heights.
I used Leica Q2 to capture the Featured Image, which is the only shot. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/500 sec, 28mm; 3:58 p.m. PDT, today.
Sometimes the moment passes too quickly. As I walked by her residence on Monroe Street, the owner of Apple came out to walk the dog—one or more of the three cats usually follows along. As we chatted, each feline found a stone upon which to sit. What composition! I pulled around Leica Q2 and knelt down to shoot the Featured Image.
Walking up Meade Avenue in San Diego neighborhood North Park, today, I stopped to wonder which “A” month is now. Because this poster reads April but surely it’s August. My wife focused on something else, stepping forward, pointing, and commenting on the absurdity of an egg hunt for anyone “18 and up”. Huh?
Odder still, the location of the poster: Garfield Elementary. That to me precludes anyone over 12. Then there is question why the school promotes an event that occurred more than four months ago. Granted, education should be timeless but this?
File the Featured Image in the category of “look up”. Because, until this evening when conducting an online image search, I had no idea that this hanging thing—upon which I repeatedly bonked my head over several months—is a banana flower. If I understand rightly, and someone correct me if mistaken, bananas should have been seen growing above had I turned my eyes upward.
I don’t exactly recall over which sidewalk the bulbous object hung, but it would be somewhere on the East side of Park Blvd in San Diego neighborhood University Heights. My guess: Louisiana or Mississippi street.
A neighbor looks on Ash, one of the “Cats of University Heights“, who has come for some affection. He isn’t her kitty, but she knows him well. The homeowners, husband and wife, keep a beautiful butterfly garden, about which Monarchs are commonplace. Perhaps you recall the chalked “caterpillar crossing” on their sidewalk, a few months back.
The Featured Image is memorable for timing: Jan. 20, 2020. Days later, China locked down Wuhan to combat what would come to be called SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2) that manifests as disease COVID-19. The photo marks a moment of normalcy before a global response closed businesses and ordered citizens to shelter in place. Who could guess what would be?
In the alley behind Alabama, but clearly living opposite off of Florida, a tabby waited next to a fence on Aug. 16, 2022. She approached and passed, more disturbed by my pulling out iPhone 13 Pro than interested in visiting me. Some kitties are attention-seekers; not this one.
The Featured Image captures the first sighting and the companion going by to the apartment building where she presumably lives. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 32, 1/255 sec, 77mm; 9:47 a.m. PDT. The other is same but 1/99 sec.
Four years ago, I made the mistake of helping my daughter outfit a new apartment. Explanation why is unnecessary. This rodent thing is one of the tchotchkes purchased for her desk. The Featured Image comes […]
Before SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns temporarily closed San Diego Zoo and precipitated price increases, my wife and I frequently walked about there. Those days are gone.
But remembering is good. On Aug. 15, 2019, when I captured the Featured Image, the economy was robust, inflation nominal, interest rates low, and Donald Trump the unbeatable candidate for the 2020 Presidential Election. Wow, three years ago feels like decades passed—measured by how much is upended. Global recession advances. Inflation roars. Interest rates rise. And the gaffe-prone Joe Biden is president (and the nation’s, ah, senile grandpa). Oh, yeah, who could forget the Russian-Ukraine war, U.S.-China tensions about Taiwan, or famine affecting millions of people.
When BLVD North Park—located in University Heights, by the way—started taking applications in summer 2019, projected rents ranged from $1,970 to $4,500. Fast-forward three years, and you might as well start selling off organs to pay for the astronomical increases locally. According to Rent.com: “The average rent for apartments in San Diego, Calif., is between $2,379 and $5,205 in 2022″—for studio and three-bedroom, respectively. One bed: $2,889, up from $2,300 in mid-2019. Two: $3,778, up from $2,823 during the same time period.
Maybe prospective renters should feel good about BLVD North Park, which rates aren’t monumentally pumped up—being already lofty before dramatic increases across the region. An 831-square-foot two beds and baths goes for $3,700, according to a listing on Trulia. That’s within the range that I recall—rightly, hopefully—when the BLVD property opened to residents.
My distain for traffic circles rises in the aftermath of an accident overnight that damaged four vehicles—leaving one, perhaps two, as total losses. The Mazda that dominates the Featured Image suffered the most damage. Impact pushed the car partially onto the sidewalk.
The crash occurred about 2 a.m. PDT—so loudly that my wife heard, and we aren’t exactly close by. But some neighbors who were woke from sleep and investigated. Based on their reports, the driver didn’t flee (and I can’t say that he could have, since no one revealed to me the condition of his car). He waited for first responders, including police, who may have arrested him for suspicion of driving under the influence of something.
We turn back the clock to the early days of SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns—to when flatten-the-curve meant about two weeks of home confinement and business closures. Instead, some states served up seemingly never-ending mandates; yes, California among them.
The Featured Image is a reminder and portender of future events, should food shortages become commonplace. What interests me here, though, when reviewing my archive tonight, is the juxtaposition of free lemons set inside a Beyond Burger box.
I do not drink alcoholic beverages and can count on one hand the few occasions of inebriation as a teenager, when booze experimentation started and stopped. My taste for the stuff is yuck, and I prefer being clear-headed, which was a big advantage during my working reporter days. People who have had a few too many, as they say, are carelessly chatty; loose lips reveal too much to sober ears like mine.
That said, I always felt uneasy being the only non-drinker in the room—like everyone looked at me oddly. Because when everyone else boozes and you don’t, the presumption is that you must be a recovering alcoholic. That’s how, ah, tippled is America’s cultural heritage. Sobriety is abnormal.