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.
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.
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.
This post’s title, which also names the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2) strain currently causing a global healthcare scare, would be better for a thriller-genre book or film about viral terrorism.
Cue the movie trailer: Six survivors. Keanu Reeves. Daniel Craig. Angelina Jolie. Regé-Jean Page. Kelly Marie Tran. And the esteemed Charlton Heston (appearing as a 3-D hologram). The Omicron Variant. The premise is so frightening that the screenwriters have each gotten three COVID-19 booster shots. You, too, will never think the same way about vaccines—and who gets them when supplies are lacking and the HAZMAT-suited stack body bags in front of your house. Oh, did we forget to mention that they’re empty and waiting to be filled—when your, ah, quarantine is over. The Omicron Variant. Who will survive viral armageddon?
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.
While walking along Louisiana today, Annie and I came across two of our neighbors tending their flower garden. Gracie, one of the “Cats of University Heights“, belonged to them before she passed away at age 19. Seeing my camera, the wife turned my attention to three caterpillars munching leaves.
I immediately exclaimed “Woolly Bear caterpillars!”—for their colors and fuzziness. But the resemblance ended there. My memory is a larva with orange band in the middle and black at both ends. If I rightly recall, and please correct me if mistaken, that caterpillar eventually becomes the Isabella tiger moth.
For some, love really is dangerous.
The snow couple are among several Christmas-themed inflatables outside a home nearby the Madison Avenue overlook in San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood. My wife and I passed by them today.
Yesterday, as my wife and I approached the blue-and-white house where flew the American flag at half-mast in September 2021, a tiny teddy came into view—back-to. As we passed, I stopped, pulled out Leica Q2, adjusted the aperture, and snapped the sole shot that is the Featured Image. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 100, 1/2000 sec, 28mm; 12:51 p.m. PST.
The front-view of the stuff bear looks across Lincoln near the corner at Alabama in San Diego’s North Park neighborhood. I want to know why the plushy is so unceremoniously placed. Is it meant to signal something? Was it found on the sidewalk or street and put up where more easily seen?