OK, no Starbucks, no paper. The Subway next door to it was open for some reason. Twenty four hours a day the sign said. Twenty four hour a day access to a Subway sandwich. Makes sense at some level I guess. So we'll start the (did I mention sunny?) day without the paper. Life, I have no doubt, will survive.

I probably like the picture up top better than any of the others I took at the Children's Parade in Oakland. I'm not really sure what I shot it with, whether it was the D3 with the 24 - 70 or the D3s with the 70 - 200, but it doesn't matter much. I'll check and update when I get back. It's not particularly the technical quality of the photograph, there's nothing special happening in it, but the isolation and the look is right. Tells you more of me than he, but that's what photography is about.

An unhappy little elf, sitting off by himself?

Not really. Not unhappy. Dressed up and part of Santa's circus, but taking a short breather while they get ready for the next act. A little introspection time away from the crowd. Or something like that. A good photograph will support many stories.

A photograph of Ozzie taken yesterday. Poor old guy is only nine, but he has arthritis and is on meds that make him tired. Has difficulty descending the second story stairs. It seems to me he was just a puppy the last time I was here, the memory foaming together in a kind of fish for what you will pool of episodes and snippets. Age begets interesting overlaps of time and circumstance. Best to relax and take another sip. I think this driving for three days straight takes more than just something out of you, takes a while to recuperate, so indeed, have another sip (said the song). Something like that.

Later. OK, a couple of lights set up and tested overlooking the dining room table, dinner well underway under the management of my sister, the sun shining outside on a cold December day, dinner itself coming within the hour. And I'm futzing around with the laptop and reading my various netroots pundits on the web. You'd think I'd be more creative on a Christmas day, but that's an afterthought. I'm in no particular mood to do more than follow my sloth. On Christmas, follow your sloth. Except for those of you with children. Quickly step into a closet if you feel the need to scream (and close the door and scream). And then have a good dinner and a glass of wine. Wine takes care of the whine for the day and well into the evening, although the next morning can be a pain in the head.

You're going to end this on a “pain in the head”?

I'm going to end it with a glass of this here Oregon Merlot. And a smile.