To clear out the backlog of unpublished kitties, we’re bunching them up (third this week). I have held back several with collars and tags hoping to get their real names. But a time comes, when there has been no close encounter, to choose a moniker and add the beastie to the series.
This handsome tabby is one of several seen mulling about the same cottage complex along Louisiana. Those profiled so far, and there are more: Cuddles, Honcho, Saunter, and Squeaky.
When the Wilcoxes moved to this neighborhood in mid-October 2007, we encountered two obvious demographics: Older couples (and some singles)—many of whom lived in the same house for decades; gay couples—women more than men (who were more commonly seen in adjacent community Hillcrest). But as the real estate market bottomed out in 2011-12, a slow change blossomed into a flash flood of families with kids of age to attend Alice Birney Elementary.
But during the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns, when many people started working from home and therefore no longer needed to live close to their jobs, University Heights began a rapid demographic flip. Ultra-high rents and landlords selling homes along with a massive influx of Googler-types has flushed out families and many of the oldsters. The professional Millennial makeover sweeps in and sweeps others out. Among those leaving: Owners of the kitty in the Featured Image.
Along the same apartment complex knoll where appears Bleu, I sometime see another feline—either alone or nearby. Since the nickname for one is translated from English to French, let’s do the same with the other; Noire, which is the feminine, for black.
I assume, and possibly wrongly, that Noire is not only female but mother to the Kittens discovered in the connecting property. Resemblance is unmistakable, which doesn’t make my presumption right.
Yesterday, while walking to the used bookstore where receiving a U.S. Constitution booklet and unprompted lecture, I came upon the oddest objects—on the outer fringes of University Heights’ boundary, along Georgia between Howard and Polk. Are these signs in the Featured Image more signs of San Diego bureaucratic bungling? This stretch is part of the Georgia-Meade bikeway, for which someone in the city authorized traffic circles with the wrong community name that later required sandblasting to correct.
Tell me, when have you ever seen a posting stating “Speed Humps Ahead”. Gasp, is that, ah, innuendo for approaching sexual activity (e.g. humping) in hedonistic Hillcrest? Yes, I am being facetious, but it’s not an unreasonable question to ask about the neighborhood.
Today, while making a purchase at a used bookstore, I spotted a booklet containing the United States Constitution on the counter. I asked the price. “Free”, the owner answered, “from ACLU”. He emphasized the acronym for the American Civil Liberties Union like either I didn’t know what the organization was or that there was special significance by the group producing the handout—perhaps both. Whichever, or neither, he wanted to impart something.
Was either my surprise or interest at all the reason? His next statement, unprompted, perhaps explains: “It says nothing about assault rifles…[but] well-regulated militia. Most militias are illegal”. That was so left-field—politically, not just figuratively—I couldn’t rightly respond. He referred to the Second Amendment: “A well-regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed”.
Along the North Avenue alley, in San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood, someone put out a leather chair packing soon-to-be seasonal decorations. I came upon the giveaways late morning Feb. 4, 2022 while carrying Leica Q2. […]
Squinting may be necessary to make out this fine feline, which might be, uh-oh, a Russian Blue. Based on current social norms of conformance, businesses (or other entities) and individuals must boycott all things from Russia because of the country’s invasion into Ukraine. Being a devout nonconformist, I won’t penalize a cat for its breed.
Mock me if you like on the social media service of your choosing. I won’t see the post. What’s that quandary question: If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears does it make a sound? Similarly, if you post angrily about me and I don’t see does it matter? No. Go ahead, wriggle your grimy fingers on physical or screen keypad.
My work blog for JupiterResearch disappeared after Forrester’s acquisition during Summer 2008. I had long left the analyst firm and smartly brought a copy of all the content with me. On April 7, 2005, I griped about Congress’ plan to add two months to Daylight Saving Time, which, incidentally, commenced day before yesterday for 2022.
This afternoon, my newsfeeds flared with a report from Washington, D.C. that our, uhm, illustrious senators unanimously voted for the so-called Sunshine Protection Act, which would make DST permanent. Meaning: Year-round. I am almost impressed by their god-like gall—that they, and they alone, can protect the sun. Okay, they do need cooperation of the House of Representatives drafting like legislation and signature from the President. But aren’t they, as a collective group, one big ego? You don’t need answer.
On two mornings in January 2022, the sound of a little girl giggling and flashes of her chasing something turned my attention along Alabama. The youngster was with other kids and adults, preparing to walk to Alice Birney Elementary. Object of her interest: A tiger tabby kitten.
On the Eleventh, I happened upon the frisky feline frolicking about. She scampered long enough for several portraits, including the Featured Image—all taken using iPhone Pro 13. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 32, 1/369 sec, 77mm; 8:47 a.m. PST.
I last quit Nextdoor on July 28, 2020, protesting the ridiculously ambiguous tenets of the so-called “Good Neighbor Pledge”. My account is now reactivated. Testing the limits of that pledge is one of my goals in what may be a temporary return. Why bother? You ask the right question.
Burgeoning crude oil per-barrel costs, surging inflation, rising prices on seemingly everything, the Russian-Ukraine war, and potentially devastating consequences (globally) from the West’s sanctions against Russia are precursors to economic crisis of frightening magnitude. S-o-o-o, my neighbors and I may have reason to buy and sell or barter items some time in the not-so-distant future.
San Diego may be a costly place to live, but the year-round summer, where lush growth and tweeting birds are constant, is big benefit—or so say I, the Maine boy. The Featured Image, roses growing alongside a house in an alley, demonstrates. The nearly 100-percent crop contrasts the blurred hanging flower pot behind.
Vitals, aperture manually set: f/2, ISO 100, 1/5000 sec, 28mm; 1:51 p.m. PST. I used Leica Q2 to make the moment on Jan. 1, 2022.
Gasoline prices continue their relentless rise here in San Diego. Regular unleaded now is $1 or more per gallon than on Feb. 24, 2022—when started Russia’s Ukrainian invasion. The Featured Image and companion compare changes over one day. The Arco is located at El Cajon Blvd and Texas Street, where North Park and University Heights meet.
But 30 cents a gallon more than yesterday, or the day before, isn’t the bigger difference. I awoke this morning to news alerts that Joseph Biden banned importation of Russian oil. Price to pump fuel is least of the problems. This sanction, on top of the others, leads to one conclusion, and a single consequence: The United States and Russia are unofficially at war. All that remains is declaration by one side or the other.