Picture this

Lots of little things:

A couple more essays. Here's the latest. Pretty mild, as is the show. Editor says, "Good job," which keeps me self-assured, at least as far as a paycheck is concerned.

Went to Stars' O-8 since last I wrote. A couple times to PLO as well. 70K magically appeared in my account. Seems that way, as while I don't remember any serious suck-outs, yet the wins elude me as well. I do recall tripling up last night, only to leave with double. One thing remains consistent: few other players seem to notice that I fold pre-flop more than anyone else at the table, which in the parallel world of real poker would advise caution.

The field burn season is over, as is my photographing of the process. The wildfires on the other side of the mountain have seen to that, the smoke from them filling the valley like it was LA. (Acclimating me early, I suppose.) Precious few good shots this year, what with the reduced burnings and a lot of the grass seed fields plowed under and replaced with winter wheat or baled. Winter, for me, will entail readying the series for pimping.

I do wonder about the wisdom of so much writing about art, partly at the expense of time thinking about and working on my own. There is also the issue of the writing naming names, artists and galleries alike, which may not play in my favor when pursuing an exhibition for myself.

The wife has taken on more responsibilities with the Neighborhood Watch, adding lost pet notices and holding the hand of those bereaved over barn cats gone further astray. In all of the back and forth, mention is made that is news to us: a local cougar has been seen. No doubt, as it is common knowledge there are a number in the area, just elusive. So, when the wife says she's walking the dog at dusk now, I'll be accompanying her while staying silent as to why more than an opportunity to hold hands.

Lastly, the tribe of folks who live on a nearby mountain and are known to be aficionados of aboriginal musical instruments were in town today. Their car, you understand, not to mention attire, body markings and pierced accessories. They were loading up on many items in several of the same stores I was visiting, taking their time, conferring, seemingly a bit uncomfortable as if the credit card was borrowed. Items included a rifle scope and 600 rounds.

I'm figuring the Mayan thing and share such with the guy/poker pal behind the gun counter. "Shit," he says, "I'll be really pissed if it turns out to be true after working this dead-end job for the last two years."

I came home and mentioned a need for some new purchases.