Well ... it's that time of year again. Time to get the creative juices flowing and the beginning of the year off to an inky start, so to speak.
#Inktober52 (The 2023 edition) has launched once again, the challenge asking participants to output something ink-related 52 times based on a provided weekly prompt.
The first four for January are in the books below: Build, Puppet, Shadow and Angel.
One month down, 48 more images to go.
Since the initial break of cases beginning in December of 2019 and continuing on for 3 years right on into January of 2023, I haven't contracted a lick of Covid-19.
I personally know and have been around friends and family and associates and passers by and more, more, more, more, more who have contracted the illness, so the likelihood of having, too, "caught the bug" seems pretty high. Still, it's not like I work in a medical industry that caters to the general public like a hospital or in industries necessarily conducive or more apt to the prevalence of transmission. It's just that when you look at that stretch of time it appears an unusually long period without having contracted anything.
From the initial outbreak, then into the isolations and the obligatory staying away from work, into the mask wearing when the needs necessitated venturing out to grocery shop, etc., right on into the thick of the pandemic when just about everything social was shut down, with a year going by where hospitalizations blossomed and serious illnesses leading oft times to Covid deaths and more, with news reports saturated in the whys and wherefores of the illness culminating in industry shutdowns and supply chain stoppages and into the series of inoculations ... well, you really have to wonder (or at least I did): With all this going on around us, am I in fact immune to Covid-19? Because that exact thought really did cross my mind several times.
How come virtually everyone I know and commune with, near, far or virtual, has been plagued with some form of coronavirus - be it a mild case or otherwise - and I've gotten off Scot-free to this point? Luck of the draw? Am I breathing upwind of anyone who may have symptoms and I've simply been that fortunate?
Or ... is there the possibility I'm actually immune, unlikely as that may be?
Let's face it: Entering three+ years of Covidlessness is a tidy little feather in one's cap if I do say so myself. A seeming damned fine achievement in the grand scheme of things, so to speak.
But it truly is a small world. A very small world, indeed. 7.8+ billion (BILLION!) people in the world and I have yet to catch a whiff of coronavirus.
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That is ... until this past weekend ...
.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )
We've been getting together in the neighborhood of 7 years running, the lot of us.
We call ourselves The NorCal6.
Three couples, 6 friends, who decided instead of planting our asses on the couch in front of the television on a Saturday night, we were going to damned well get out into the world and do something.
It started out simply: We picked out a restaurant to explore, some new, different place none of us had been previously. Converse. Eat. Solve a few world problems.
And we agreed we'd do this monthly. Make it "a thing."
After a year, it morphed into hitting up events (i.e. The Asparagus Festival) and destinations (i.e. Mendicino), but the basis of the idea was still intact: To get off our asses and socialize instead of being lumps, if only for a couple hours.
More than half a decade and we're still at it.
Hey ... who are The NorCal6 anyway? Why don't we take a moment to get to know them ...
Funny thing: In all the years we've been doing this, I don't know why we've never properly documented our little get-togethers. Oh, we've bantered about it, that we should put together some kind photo album of our outings or some such. But we've rarely shot photos (of us or the locales we've visited) at our soirees, we've barely kept track of the different restaurants we've been to ... blah, blah, blah. And at this last meeting it was suggested - for the umpteenth time - we get our shit together and document our comings and goings somehow.
This time? I took it to heart.
So ... here goes.
Saturday, the 14th, we ventured out into the rainy late, late afternoon to Out Of Bounds Brewery in Folsom, a locale one of our group had been to previously for a company-hosted event. An early dinner was in order (along with brews we hadn't tried for the beer drinkers of the clan). Needless to say a bevy of selections was commandeered.
Hangry Chicken Wings, Buffalo Cauliflower, onion rings and fried pickle spears were the appetizers shared all around. All were great ... but the "Ring Of Fire" sauce for the wings had a funky tang to it, the only real downside to the lot.
Beers? Yes! A delicious Milk Stout and a Blood Orange Wheat (2 of these, as a matter of fact) were quaffed.
Drunken and Craft Burgers, Smoked Mac & Cheese, Tri-Tip Arugula Salads and a Margherita Flatbread were on tap for the main courses.
My Drunken Burger was a huge, terrific mess and even came with a fried jalapeno speared garnish-like through the top of the bun, which I added to the innards of the burger. The fries accompanying the thing were the kind you couldn't stop popping into your mouth ... and there appeared to be better than a double serving of them. Half came home with us. The wives assured us that the Smoked Mac & Cheese was top notch.
Of course, the dinner wasn't the only thing.
The conversation flowed. It was catch up time with everyone, what new things came up or were noteworthy since the last day of the old year, the last time all 6 of us were together. I spilled Kelly's water moving dishes and almost tagged her with a wet lap. And I dripped sauces from the appetizers and my burger all down the front of me. (You can't take me anywhere sometimes.) Plus, our waitress was top notch, noting and accommodating all our trivial (probably annoying) little requests. (Yes, she was tipped well.)
Dessert? Nope. We were all too full to hit up one last course.
By the time we left Out Of Bounds Brewery, the rain had stopped and it was clear driving all the way home. Another successful congregation.
Next up: Soriano's Restaurant in Diamond Springs for Salvadoran / Mexican food come February ...
.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )
And no, it wasn't the first appearance of the living dead. That privilege goes to the 1932 release of White Zombie starring none other than Bela Lugosi. But the zombie genre, in and of itself, really came into its own with Night Of The Living Dead.
But before we get things rolling, two things need to be stated from the get-go.
First, a warning: If you’ve never seen NotLD (and, if you haven’t, you’re either terrified of it and don’t want to watch it alone or you’ve been living under a rock all your life) let it be said that no good comes from this film. No good whatsoever.
The other thing: BIG FAT SPOILER ALERT! If indeed you have not seen the film and don’t want your experience ruined, read no further than the exclamation point at the end of this sentence!
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Hokay, then … here’s the spoiler: EVERYBODY DIES ... !!!
Yep, you read right … every one of the main cast in the film dies a pretty gruesome death.
Following is the actual death count (undead ghouls not included):
Man… what a way to go. Chased, terrorized and eventually done in by resuscitated corpses who either indirectly cause your demise or take care of you face to face.
In other words: It’s tradition.
It never gets old. (Yes… I used “never.”) It still brings gasps and frights. You cannot help but get caught up in the stock musical tracks which accent the panic and dread being played out on the screen. You can feel the fire flare in the face of Ben as the truck Tom drives away from the gas pump explodes with he and Judy inside. You can feel your revulsion as you watch that one particular ghoul snatch an insect off a tree, put it to its lips and crunch into it. You spew loathing at Harry and all his faux-bravado time and again when he blusters. The urgency Ben emotes as he boards up the house in an effort to ward off the undead from outside? You can actually feel it unfolding.
If you’ve never seen George Romero’s masterpiece, you haven’t experienced the kind of fear a good black and white can inject into you. I guarantee you’ll be as overwhelmed as Barbra as she witnesses the undead horde led by her brother Johnny. You’ll be transfixed at the news reports which continually crop up throughout the film, detailing the horrors taking place in nearby towns and counties. You’ll even marvel at Sheriff McClelland uttering “Yeah, they’re dead … they’re all messed up.” (One of my favorite lines from the movie.)
This film is all that and a bag of your chips, let me tell you. (And, just in case you need proof, elements of NotLD were used as the basis for AMC’s popular The Walking Dead. So there.)
Look: Do yourself a favor. View this piece of genre history once again for the thirtieth time … or for the very first. It’s available in its entirety on YouTube for Pete’s sake, so you don’t even have to venture out and rent it. After all, free of charge is good. And free of charge from the comfort of your very own computer screen or television set … all the better.
The only thing I ask in return is that you enjoy it … and don’t forget the popcorn.
.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )
And then this happened with a certain British Unbelievable founding member earlier his week ...
.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )
You know ... I'm not quite certain what it is about the need for people to violate others' personal space while checking out at the local grocery store.
My first guess would be their unthinking obliviousness, I suppose. Or the simplest hint of social graces, followed by the probability they don't give a flying flip about anyone but themselves.
I came into contact with just this sort of person earlier in the week.
There was someone in front of me checking out and, while they were finishing up, I waited my turn calmly, giving them plenty of room to conduct their transaction without pressing them to move things along. I mean ... that's just basic manners in my book.
Well ... not so with the woman behind me. As I began removing items from my cart and depositing them on the checker's conveyor belt, this lady exaggeratedly reached past me - brushing my arm in the process - in order to snag a divider to separate her groceries from mine. In one hand she precariously balanced a jar of peanut butter and a package of pre-sliced watermelon wedges which I saw when I turned to see who was crowding me. I surmised the two items were much, much too heavy to hold onto and had to be put down immediately before her strength gave out and she collapsed in a heap. (I mean ... what other reason was there for her to unceremoniously reach past me and knock into me with nary a word ... right?)
If this wasn't enough, she remained directly behind me without giving up an inch of real estate so she could obviously keep her items within sight in the event I might abscond with them.
And that was enough for me to react.
I turned around, looked her in the eye and asked "Do you mind stepping back so I don't have to hear you breathing down my neck?" I got a dirty look as a response before she seemingly and reluctantly took a few steps backward. I mentally exhaled at the gall of the woman and said nothing more.
But I did take my ever-loving sweet time checking out, conversing with the checker pleasantly. Producing my wallet slowly and methodically in order to extract my monies. Thanking the checker for her assistance and answering my questions. And, finally, carefully taking the receipt she handed me and performing exacting, perfectly executed folds to it before putting it in my wallet.
As I departed, I turned to the woman who I could hear huffing at me not-so-silently and offered: "You have a day now, you hear?"
She frowned at me, not knowing whether to respond or not.
.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )
