As promised, the parade of pussyfoots begins, with one encountered just a few months ago. You will later meet others that have languished in the queue since at least 2023.
This orange and white carries the distinction of being the one-hundred-fifth feline seen along Alabama Street, somewhere between boundaries Adams and Lincoln, since the series‘ start in October 2016. That’s out of 596 profiles, including this one.
What is the meaning of the Featured Image? Simply stated: 2025 is a gift, and it’s a gift we should share with other people. Opportunity abounds, if we let it. The first, and very vital, step: Embarking from day one with a positive attitude.
We can make this year one of the most remarkable in human history, and honestly—given some of the chaos around the globe—we don’t have much other choice.
We close 2024 with what you will see too much of during January and February: Cats! The backlog of unpublished kitties is massive, so time is long past to dispatch them all. The first of the bunch jumps to the front of queue.
I used Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra to capture the Featured Image on December 2 at 10:03 a.m. PST. Vitals: f/3.4, ISO 200, 1/120 sec, (synthetic) 230mm (digital and optical zoom). Nickname: Kitten. Location: Somewhere along Georgia Street.
File this in the categories of good intentions gone wrong and meddling where you shouldn’t. Leading up to Christmas, unidentified flying objects—presumably drones, some the size of SUVs—flew about New Jersey close to its coastline. UFOs later appeared elsewhere, which includes San Diego County. Some locals talked about shooting one down.
Finally, some solid citizen pulled out some surplus military missile thing and pointed it to the sky. Boom! He got one! But his excitement turned to horror when a spotter reported hitting a different, and quite unintended, target.
Another Christmas Day is nearly over, but every day should be a celebration of giving. Live for the sake others—give and forget. That’s the spirit of the season, which is instead awash with wanton materialism, rather than celebrating Jesus—or the birth of any child, for that matter.
Around San Diego neighborhood University Heights, the atmosphere was spiritless today. During a morning walk, my wife and I passed numerous residents—many of them walking dogs. I greeted everyone with “Good Morning” and “Merry Christmas”. No one, and I mean no one, returned the greeting or acknowledged our presence. I know that we are old now, but so were some of the non-responders.
This morning, my wife and I walked through Lafayette Hotel, here in University Heights, to see if it was as bustling busy as last Sunday when we looked in to see the holiday decorations. The place was livelier seven days ago.
I had wanted to stroll in with the DJI Osmo Pocket 3 to capture video of the zillion Christmas trees (some hanging from the ceiling) and raucous crowd (some of whom were hanging from the ceiling—or might as well been). Perhaps Christmas Eve, or better, New Years Eve will bring the right ambiance.
The new camera proves to be a bit of a bear to handle, simply because the ergonomics surprisingly differ from Leica Q2 and Q2 Monchrom. I expected more obvious manipulation using tactile controls, and I still can’t fathom why the NIKKOR 40mm f/2 (SE) lens has no obvious aperture ring.
I wouldn’t return the camera for these reasons, though. I will adapt, adopt new habits, and make the best of the Nikon Zf‘s many benefits (and idiosyncrasies). The retro-looker packs plenty of potential.
On September 29, I asked: “Would You Want to Live Here?” regarding the new, ah, studio apartments converted from garages along the alley separating Alabama and Florida streets. One of the five units is still available, and it’s the lowest-cost rental here in University Heights: $1,295. Wow, what a bargain.
How much room do you need? The domicile provides a whole 180-square-feet of living space. You don’t mind sleeping on the floor, do you—or eating there—all Japanese style? But the big benefit is proximity to trash and recycle bins. You can practically open the window and drop in trash. The Featured Image shows what to expect. Don’t open the window or door. Oh, that smell!
The Barber of Seville is closing up shop after 45 years of operation—more than 30 of them in downtown University Heights. George gave me a final cut this afternoon. His last customer will be a local priest, sometime on Dec. 11, 2024.
While waiting outside for my turn, I observed something, or more appropriately someone, across the street. You can judge for yourself from the Featured Image. Homelessness is a San Diego fixture, and I see street dwellers sprawled on sidewalks every day. But this gent is the first with an inflatable woman.
What’s that saying about when it rains, it pours? This fine feline is the first shared since Oct. 20, 2024—and an enormous backlog is in the queue. So do expect this place becoming something of a cat blog for the foreseeable future. You’ve been informed; warned, if you prefer.
For today, meet Red, who my wife and I met with his owner on Nov. 27, 2024. Before the lady moved from rental to owned home, she kept Petri, who joined the series in January 2020. Amazingly, she stayed in the neighborhood, which was no easy feat during the SARS-CoV-2/COVID-19 housing bubble, when local real estate prices ballooned at alarming speed.
For about a month, I have been trying to get a good shot of a woodpecker going at one of the palms overlooking our apartment building’s parking lot. Yesterday, Cali came running from the bedroom, where she had been blissfully sleeping in sunlight, into my office. She climbed onto the desk to look out the window. To see what? I hadn’t opened up the thing, so sound penetration was minimal.
She stared out at that wily woodpecker, and I marveled at her ears, because I could see the pecking but not hear it. I pulled out Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra, opened the camera app, set to 10x zoom, and shot the Featured Image through the glass (which could have been cleaner).
More than two weeks after the November 5th election, emotions among my neighbors range from anger to disbelief to resistance (a polite way of saying revenge). I see more Harris-Walz signs on lawns than before Americans voted.
Lemme see, the five stages of grief are (correct me if mistaken): Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I would guess the majority of University Heights residents are stuck in the first two stages. Acceptance? You can forget that. Defiance is more likely, as the plethora of signs suggest.