A story in the N.Y. Times about Oakland press photographers, print and television, and the number of cameras that have been robbed recently at gun point. Just the thing to read when you're sitting at a table with a camera by your side. I've been aware there've been a number of robberies recently, most of them of video equipment, but they mentioned the local Tribune chief photographer has been robbed of her cameras twice, her rig not a lot different from mine. Just out there on the Oakland streets, not necessarily in a known bad area. Wham, bam: thank you mam. At gun point.

So we remind ourself to be careful. I don't shoot at night, many of the robberies have taken place at night, but I do shoot in the same places where some of these robberies have occurred and pause with the thought. Be careful, keep an eye out, don't stay too long in the same place, tag along within the eye sight of a nearby cop. Click!

Later. A short trip outside dressed for cold weather to discover it was indeed cold out there, overcast and cold. What to do, where to go? No thought to go downtown (when was the last time I went downtown, a trip up until recently that I've taken almost daily?), no thought to head to the usual place for lunch (too early for lunch and it was too cold to sit out on the patio), to do what? Nada. Back to the apartment.

Later still. The sun seems to be poking through now that I've returned from lunch. Brightens the mood, even here inside. A walk earlier under the overcast, the temperature a little warmer, but still wearing and needing the padded goose down underwear jacket, lunch out on the patio with two other rugged diners, a grilled Swiss cheese sandwich, ice cream and coffee. I figured it was cold enough, so the coffee rather than the lemonade.

The ambition remains flat, although the head is clear (and the blood pressure up - still futzing with that) and I took all of but one fuzzy picture walking back although there are things to do now here in the apartment and maybe they will smooth out the afternoon. Mumble.

Evening. Nothing on television. Charlie Rose had Paul Krugman and someone called Morning Joe (you can tell how much network television I watch in the mornings) on for an hour's debate, Mr. Joe causing my blood pressure to rise. Such is life, but every other sentence seems about blood pressure these days.

To bed early. Progress later in the evening on that photography article, it's starting to make some sense. Which is good as the final, final deadline is coming up fast.