Two mass shootings per day requires comment. It’s a statistic that calls for outrage.
I am turning ‘All The Best’ over today to make this one statement of sorrow and dismay.
Gun violence is not something we should tolerate or allow.
Two mass shootings per day requires comment. It’s a statistic that calls for outrage.
I am turning ‘All The Best’ over today to make this one statement of sorrow and dismay.
Gun violence is not something we should tolerate or allow.

It has looked like a full moon to me for the past three or four days. This one on this morning marks the fifth.
What kind of moon is it? And why is it greeting me at 7 a.m.?

It’s astounding to think that a person’s life often spans nearly a century. Even more so when I realize mine has already covered three-quarters of one.
In some ways, the experience of all those years has been futuristic.
As an aside in the midst of this ramble, I wonder if the cave dwellers in our distant past didn’t have that same intimation. When fire was discovered or the wheel, didn’t they feel they were encountering the future?
In my lifetime so far, it’s the digital information that I appreciate as new and fresh. Computers have evolved to help orchestrate my life from the smallest of screens.
AI, like Hal in the Star Trek film, is a real thing. My experience of it has a robot scheduled to assist with my upcoming mammogram (for an add-on fee of $59.) Many other examples of artificial intelligence abound. One, of the many I am only vaguely aware of, is the rather alarming driverless or self-driving car.
At the beginning of my time on earth, there were no such gadgets or doodads. They would soon become a reality but not an everyday presence. When they crept further into our consciousness, computing devices loomed large but seemed vaguely improbable.
Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy contended with one behemoth of a machine and a budding romance in Desk Set.
In 1957, there was room for some skepticism about just how useful such mechanical interventions would be. Not so anymore.
We carry a whole lot of computing power in our pockets now. Who woulda thunk? I mean back in the 1940s?
Ethical considerations about how much data we share and how much of our identities we give up or over to the machine are somewhere lost in the shuffle of convenience and notoriety. Look at all I am sharing here with strangers.
Without the devices we use to post these thoughts there would be no online forii.
The public square would be a sheep meadow in the middle of town. Those of us so inclined would argue our propositions from soap boxes. Others so inclined would be entertained by the spectacle.
There would be no data breach just a lot of shouting.

When I judge films, I consider the narrative. I want to be told a story. A movie’s success in my eyes has to do with how cogent a tale it tells.
What if the story isn’t the point? This is a visual medium. Pictures might be what you want to see. Sometimes the visuals are the story.
Splashes of color, images moving speedily or in slo-mo, all carefully superimposed over a generational chronicle are what you’ve come to see.
Or perhaps it’s just the art or the movement without the annals and references. Some films need no consistent content to be great or great fun.
Early films, before we had color to beguile us, were often short comedies, like the Charlie Chaplin or Buster Keaton movies or Western dramas or sometimes long dark fantasies like Nosferatu or Metropolis.
I hear, for instance, that Avatar 2 is spectacular. By all appearances that doesn’t mean I would find that it makes sense.
Likewise, I hear that Babylon, by the LaLaLand team, is another beautiful spectacle. In this case, based on its predecessor it likely has a lovely plot.
My assessments about a movie may need an overhaul. Just as I have come to like the ridiculous slapstick of The Stooges and the confusing dialog of the Brothers Marx, perhaps I can absorb and value fantastical ramblings in technicolor and beyond.

The sun is always a welcome sight, isn’t it? It’s warmth in winter is referred to by the archaic apricity.
The word derives from the Latin and is a cousin to apricots.
The 2022 Merriam Webster words of the year included the less sunny gaslighting.
Slang is source for new tacks in approaching life’s conundrums. This year reveals touch grass courtesy of teens who want to keep it real as we might have said older school.
If you were brave, I said to myself, you would stop to take a picture of this.
I admitted I was not. I was slogging through leaf-infested water puddles and being blown by the wind. It was quite delightful.



For years, my attempt at keeping a plant in my home ended in brown leaves and disappointment.
I have finally found a plant that, starting as a small cutting, has done nothing but thrive. I missed my watering schedule a couple of weeks ago. It started to droop. Uh oh, that’s it, I thought, this looks familiar.
A little remedial watering and back to our schedule, a hubby who greets the perky little thing and look where we are now.
Mother Nature, like Father Time, will move at her own pace. I complained that the leaves had not turned to reds as well as yellows. They hadn’t. Then. It’s the end of November and look what pleasures she has wrought.



These two illustrated vehicles both represent some good transit options. The dismantled yellow bike no doubt the better of them.
Simon is cutting hair today. Salvo’s is closed. An uneven start to finding open establishments.
I saw the first poinsettias of the season today. Wanted to shout that at the young man making the delivery but his earbudds precluded meaningful communication.
It’s warm for Thanksgiving Thursday.**
**I added the unnecessary “Thursday” in case they turn the holiday into an official long weekend. It would then come complete with its own sales day.

There are places to sit. I know I mentioned this before but Le Petit Parisien has an excellent cappuccino. You know where else the coffee’s good? My local D’Agostino. Yeah, I too was surprised.


Wishing you the best for the holiday season.
Thanks Giving is the kick-off event.
Kick-off in more than one sense as football is such a big part of the day.
We go from here. Turkeys have been pardoned, although many more have been roasted. Pies have been baked or bought and consumed along with much more.
Sated, we are prepared to be grateful for all we have and all we share.
The day itself is a ritual of gratitude. It’s a reminder to us that we have it pretty good.
Gratitude is not a bad rite to celebrate. We could, really give it our full attention- without the distractions of turkey, pumpkin pie and football- 365 and on those leap years 366.