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115 this is not a test

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The picture above is gluten free pizza. This was dinner last night. I've been making pizza pretty much once a week during the pandemic, mostly from a sourdough starter I got going myself. But this week, between sailing and what not, I kinda slacked on shopping, and allowed supplies of the basics to run out. We have no regular flour, which Deb doesn't usually eat anyway, so it was back to gluten-free.
All of which is a long way of saying, back to normal. My stewardship is in a post-hoarding phase.
All of which is particularly bizarre because now I actually know people with the disease. The threat imagined has become real. And yet, there's plenty of toilet paper.
Is the virus weaker now than in cold weather? Maybe. Maybe we're stronger. Or maybe not. But the fear is weaker. 
Once again, again, the bitch of a public health response is that if it works, the threat will seem like it was no big deal.

Well, that certainly was a long way of explaining why I didn't take any self…

114 look, a comet!

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Walking to the farmer's market. Traffic is about maybe one-quarter the usual. Or maybe I should say the old days. Mask use is over 90%.

The boarded up realtor's office where I first hung art is now fully muralized, and has sprouted an encampment. When I walked by later, a houseless guy who has lived in the neighborhood on and off for his whole life and takes care of one of the neighborhood parks was busy taking photos to report them. 

What else? My dream of living car free took a drive in a new truck yesterday.


This song was funny.


Yeah, at this point, even I'm getting tired of the scare-tactic headlines. Basically, every headline in the Bay Area should read: thank you, and sorry, but thank you.

So last time I checked, maybe a month ago, this was about three thousand, and forty deaths. It's bad, but really, thank you, great job, sorry about your business, but seriously, thank you. Let's keep up the good work. We promise to make it up to you.

Or not...





Connect the dots. Hm…