In lieu of actual content, I post pictures of charming boats I've seen near Shelter Island lately, mostly while getting fish sandwiches. I don't really want to own a boat, but I want to ride on one, through the mouth of the harbor, out to the Islas Coronados, and then away and beyond.

I dream. I yearn.

For a hundred and some bucks I can take lessons on Mission Bay in a little aluminum-hulled sailboat. That's a start.

( Boat pics over the horizon )

Had a fine, fine day. Woke up early and wrote for several hours, and then we headed south to Imperial Beach, using tacos as the excuse. Tacos are a good excuse for any number of things.

Imperial Beach ("the most southwesterly city in the continental United States") is a humble beach town, quiet even on a nice, weekend summer day. Perfectly decent tacos were obtained, and then we approached Coronado Island from the Silver Strand Highway instead of the more commonly used Coronado Bridge. We settled into a coffee joint for a while, then strolled to look at boats and beach. Thirsty work, that, so it was necessary to stop in at an Irish pub for drinks. A very good rock-a-billy band was playing (I asked a busboy their name and thought he'd said The Sluttos, but they're actually The Stilettos), and then some more walking before crossing the bridge home.

Simple pleasures, but well enjoyed.

From San Diego - 2009

They seemed serious in their intent.

From San Diego - 2009

But that was only part of the beach walk.

( more pics behind the cut )

I had this brilliant idea that I could sit on these steps and get some work done. There was even wifi! But the glare was just too much. I'm thinking maybe I should get an umbrella. Also, there are some houses around there with nice, furnished decks and expansive views. I'm kinda thinking of house-jacking one of them. Might need some muscle for backup, though. Who's with me?

From Last

The weekend was pretty much a mix of work ...

( click for pics )

Sometimes I post a picture of a sandwich.

This is smoked yellowtail from Point Loma Seafood Company, with a Newcastle and Mexi-Pep hot sauce. Not the best picture, but there are bonus boats.

From San Diego - 2009

Life is all about taking chances. Or eating dinner at San Diego Chicken Pie Shop. Maybe I just said the same thing twice.

San Diego Chicken Pie Shop has been around for more than 70 years, but I think it went under modernization around 1974.

From San Diego - 2009

I like a place that's prepared to kill bugs.

From San Diego - 2009

In case the zappers don't get them, the gravy will. I like gravy. Drowning in gravy would be okay with me. In fact, this evening, it was. The difference between a chicken pot pie and a chicken pie is that the latter cannot be bothered with vegetables and potatoes. Fortunately, there was some of each among my fellow drowning victims.

From San Diego - 2009

And without segue, there were little flowers at yesterday's writing venue.

From Last

Did you have a good weekend? I hope so. I had a good weekend, perhaps the highlight of which was the simple but tasty shrimp sandwich Lisa and I shared at the tiny little fish market/café in La Jolla whose name I can't remember now. And there was clam chowder as well, with those puffy little oyster crackers and hot sauce. And then a long walk around La Jolla, and seals. They want to get rid of the seals because the seals are occupying a strip of sand that's supposed to be set aside for children. If you saw all the tourists with their children enjoying the sight of the seals, you might wonder why anyone would want to get rid of this tourist and civic attraction in favor of another tiny patch of beach. There is no shortage of beach in San Diego. I say let the children swim with the seals. In fact, let the children be raised by seals. I have no real stake in any of this, but I enjoy sights worthy of gawking.

Here's a picture of the view from the sekrit park in Bird Rock. I post it in lieu of the pictures I did not take this weekend. I love that, from the end of nondescript street near the Starbucks, I can look out and, if it weren't for the curvature of the planet and atmosphere and myopia and a touch of astigmatism, I could see all the way to Japan.

From San Diego - 2009

In other news, I have no idea how Norse Code is selling. This is normal.

In still other yet related news, Norse Code was reviewed by Adrienne Martini in the June issue of Locus. It's a very nice review, I think. A few money quotes:

"Norse Code is a flat-out enjoyable adventure cloaked in a brief lesson on Norse mythology."

"Words tumble on the page with a lyric joy that is Pratchett-like in some passages."

And this one particular pleases me, because I was at times a little stressed about it when it would have been too late to save myself:

"And then there’s Mist, a female character who spends almost zero time talking about boys, romance or love. Instead, she can hold her own in a fight if forced while keeping her focus on the main goals of her quest. It’s refreshing that almost all of Mist’s scenes with other women would pass the Bechdel test, in that when two women are talking,they talk about something other than a man."

Not that there's not a little romance in Norse Code, and Mist and her sister do spend a little bit of time talking about boys, but I didn't want to leave the impression that, with the world literally crumbling to pieces around them, my female characters' main concerns were the men in their lives.

Finally, you know that thing people sometimes do on their blogs when they say they have a Big Sekrit and they can't tell you? Well, I'm not going to do that. Except that I do, and I can't, but I will, as soon as I can.

I'm a jerk.

I'm adding Little Italy to the list of places I wouldn't mind living. When you factor in access to pizza, dry salami, espresso, plus the harbor views, Blick Art Materials, and the Saturday farmers market, where we just purchased spicy mustard, chipotle hummus, asparagus, lemon cake, pretty little flowers, and an onion and garlic for chicken soup, I'm not thinking Little Italy lacks for much. Even found a coffee joint with free wifi.

Not that bad.

From San Diego - 2009

Sometimes you're out driving around, just doing the things you do, and you happen upon a footbridge. The thing to do in such an event is pull over, get out of your car, and cross the bridge. Maybe you'll find something amazing on the other side. Maybe you'll look down and see a dinosaur foraging in the gorge down below. Probably you won't. Whatever. The important thing is to make sure you don't just drive by the bridge, because if you do, you'll never know.

After crossing back we talked to another guy who'd just discovered the bridge after living here for 25 years. I found that encouraging.

From San Diego - 2009

From San Diego - 2009

I seem to have found a place of ritualistic importance in Pacific Beach.

From San Diego - 2009

It's out in front of this hair salon.

From San Diego - 2009

Sometimes one just doesn't want to know.

I'm not sure, but I think these were carved by a guy called Tiki Dan.

From San Diego pics - 2008

From San Diego pics - 2008

Not exactly the white Christmas I'm dreaming of, but I'll take it. And I continue to hope for water spouts.

From San Diego pics - 2008

Another thing I like about my neighborhood: tikis.

From San Diego pics - 2008

From San Diego pics - 2008

Are you wearing socks today? Tell me about them.

***

Last year, I was making a point of getting out to see water almost everyday. But now I've grown complacent. I'm kind of stupid that way. I took the most lovely walk last night. I still really love this neighborhood.

From San Diego pics - 2008

From San Diego pics - 2008

Every Tuesday in Balboa Park is Free Museum Tuesday, during which admission to a rotating selection of the park's many museums is waived. Today one of the free ones was the Museum of Man, where I was impressed by the Mayan stelae (plaster casts) and the trepanned skulls. Got there shortly before closing, but definitely going back when there's more time to see the rest of the exhibits.

From Balboa Park

( A few more pics under the cut )

A few days ago I was feeling anxious about the economy and my place in it, so I made a big pot of chicken noodle soup. There's just something soothing about the alchemy of soup stock made with roughly cut vegetables and the parts of a chicken you'd ordinarily throw away. If I had a yard I think I'd be planting vegetables. Maybe raising chickens, too. When I was a kid we raised chickens in our backyard in Venice, but my participation in this endeavor largely consisted of being attacked by roosters. We never ate the chickens. We never even ate the eggs. I think my dad traded the eggs for more chickens. So I wouldn't really know what to do with live chickens. But give me some factory-raised chickens, plucked and cleaned, and I can produce a pretty decent soup.

I froze some of the leftover stock in ice cube trays and stored the cubes in a freezer bag for future use. There ya go. A little household tip from the city boy.

***

Auditioned Caffe Calabria on 30th Street yesterday. So much good stuff on 30th, from Ritual Tavern and Filter, to Toronado brewpub and Urban Solace and the Linkery, all the way down to Rebecca's in South Park. What a great street for feast and drink.

God, I just made myself hungry.

I'm having trouble getting underway on this new middle-grade book I've been poking at. I'm telling myself that it's okay, though. No sense worrying that the soup's not simmering when I haven't even finished chopping the vegetables.

From Last

This morning there was no coffee cup, no juice, not even a laptop. I mean, I had coffee, I had juice, and I still have my laptop, but I figured I'd mix it up a bit today. Now, though, it's back to my traditional tools and substances.

From Osteomancer's Son

Ah, Labor Day. A day to celebrate labor unions and trade organizations at a time when less than 8 percent of the American workforce belongs to a union. And as long as we're on the subject, a few more labor stats:

About 530,000 were subject to mass layoffs in the last year, growth of nearly 5 percent, but a lower rate than five and 10 years ago.

The median weekly earnings for American workers have not grown in real terms over the last eight years.

At $6.55, the federal minimum wage is worth 40 cents less per hour, in inflation-adjusted dollars, than it was a decade ago.

While employer-assisted childcare and employee wellness programs have grown quickly over the last decade, they still cover less than one quarter of American workers.

Roughly 4 percent of the workforce wants to work full-time, but is working part time because they can't find full-time work.

Anyway, as something like a freelancer, I'll be relaxing and revising today, in addition to celebrating Labor Day for an entirely selfish reason: The tourists are going home! This being the official last day of the summer tourist season, the roads and beaches will become remarkably less crowded starting today. I noticed this last year, when riding my bike by the Catamaran resort on Mission Bay, as the chaise longues thingies with the umbrellas thinned out a little more every day until there were as few as half a dozen die-hards stretched out beneath the fog. The tourists bring in a lot of revenue to San Diego, so I know they're a good thing, but I promise to step up my patronage of the local coffee joints by way of compensation.

The Port of San Diego is offering free harbor tours to educate San Diegans about our working waterfront, so this morning Lisa and I took the two-hour boat ride and learned about the commercial and tourist development, the cargo terminals, the shipyards, and the Navy facilities. A very enjoyable and informative morning. I'd definitely recommend it to San Diego-area residents. They're also doing bus tours, which I'll probably do in a few weeks.

By the way, many, if not most, import cars get the accessories added on -- everything from mirrors to satellite radios -- by Teamsters immediately after rolling off the transport ships. The largest lobster ever caught in San Diego Bay was an 11-pounder. The Navy trains dolphins and sea lions for military activities only a long stone's throw from one of my stand-by pizza joints. The first parachute jump in San Diego was accomplished in 1914 by a ninety-pound civilian woman named Tiny Broadwick.

( Some pics from the tour below the cut )