The snow was steady all night, and the predictions were heavy. I was looking at a morning of difficult shoveling. I kicked at the snow on the back steps when I went outside - yes, yes, widow maker snow. Let’s see if the snowblower starts.

It did not. Wife asked, quite correctly, if I had just assumed that I would never need it again. No, but the means to fix it are not readily available. It’s complicated. As much as I would love to squirt gas on it and set it alight, something that seemed to work when Crazy Uke Junior fixed it, I lacked the easy skill that made me think “I can do this without blowing it up.” I don’t know why it doesn’t work. I drained it and stabilized it. Point is, I have to shovel the length and breadth of the Jasperwood walks all on my oddy-knocky, and eight inches in the morn - well.

So at 11:11 PMI thought aw hell, suited up, and went down with the shovel. Thought: “I’ll make paths for the car.” I wasn’t cold, yet. I wasn’t dressed for the job, at all. Sweat pants, not two layers. Driving gloves, not heavy mittens. But my coat was warm and the wind wasn’t too bad. I started on the sidewalk. I noticed that when I made another pass on the way back that new snow had fallen on the paths I’d cleared. Down the hill, up the hill, turn around, redo it. Then the broad garage apron, that’ll be enough. No, the driveway. Urg. I did it all.

It was 11:40. It was peaceful. I was happy I had done it and I knew I would have to do it again tomorrow. But I wasn’t tired or winded or taxed in the least. And my friends, we are talking heavy snow. Ten years ago I think that would've laid me low, but lifting has given me old-man superpower, I guess.

Wife wants me to go in for a heart scan. Fine. FINE. Being a man of a certain mentality I have the usual delusional measures: I can, and do, nightly, 120 pushups. I’m good. But one needs tests to see whether you should have a Thing done, or take a Pill.

Somehow that seems like the start of the stop.

Note: when I said "old man" I mean technically, because I'm still under the delusion that I am not. Sometimes I think the difference is a matter of posture, energy, sartorial style, and hair dye.

Next day: woke to overcast conditions, wind, cold, and a bit more snow. Six inches. SIX. Well, let’s get to it. I had been informed that management had decreed we were expected to go to the office today, which was amusing: the one day I decide to camp at home instead of heading in as I always do, management says NO, ALL MUST APPEAR.

This message was relayed to me by someone who neglected to notice the word “not” in front of “expected” in the Slack channel message. We were not expected.

Well, fine. Got me out of the house. Learned a bit more about how the car handles in snow. Quite well, as it turns out. It has a SNOW function. There’s a little switch that goes between Normal, Econ, and Snow. But here’s the thing: people think off the Econ button as ECO, because it has a green leaf. It’s just “economy.” I think it’s ECO, even though it says ECON. The power of the icon. Oh, a leaf! I am doing good for the planet. The button could spray aerosolized plutonium from a nozzle atop the car, and I’d feel good about myself as a moral person who pushed the button with the leaf on it.

At work, the labors of the snow-removal team made everything look like that Star Trek ep where they go to a distant facility, and everything's frozen. (I'm not going to go look for it, lest I find myself quoted again, but I'm pretty sure it's The Naked Time.)

The Snow Mountains have risen in the parking lots.

It's supposed to be 50 soon enough, but this heap may persist into April. And it will never be this pristine again. It will soon be fouled and turn into snirt (snow + dirt), and if there's a thaw-freeze cycle then you might, if you slip and fall into it, cut your flesh.

Although to be fair we don't see a lot of snood around here.

Yesterday I mentioned I was looking through an old movie-industry trade mag, and showed you some pictures. I'd completely forgotten what the Peregrination was for today. So kinda sorta more of the same. And yes, I have changed the name without discussion. I'm like that these days. Brusque, quick, devil-may-care decisions.

So! What's the journey that takes us from this image . . .       . . . to this one?

This ad announced the opening of a new office tower in Los Angeles. Still around: It opened in 1923. Wikipedia: “The building was hit hard by the Great Depression, with its primary tenant Guaranty Savings declaring bankruptcy in 1930.” So much for the guarantee. It’s an unremarkable building, for the times. Investors - and later, tenants - included Charlie Chaplin and Cecil B. DeMille. Wonder who’s there now? Oh. I wanted to know what the rest of the street looked like, and was saddened to see this remnant: Overgrown, abandoned, deserted. Cinema Treasures has photos, of course, but I wanted to see if I could get better versions of the tiny pictures from Motion Picture News. And I did. Sigh This is one of those WHAT THEY TOOK FROM US things. The spectacular fantasy of these structures is all the more amazing when you consider that their primary state for the consumer is DARKNESS. But I suppose there was gentle indirect lighting that made the room glow softly while the movie played. The murals and interior design were by Albert Herter. Remarkable career. A public artist of great skill. Well, let’s head up the block, see what else the street has . . . This corner made me sad. It always makes me sad. Why hasn’t anything been built here? And you do know what once was there, right? Right. It's one of the foundational images of lileks.com, going back over two decades to a postcard that was one of the original pages in an early postcard section. The last Google street view image of the building is from 2007, and it looks like some gibberish AI text: I ran the word I thought I saw through searches, and nothing came back - until I realized there’s another clue in the picture. 101. Rather, 101.9. And that unlocked it. Eddie "Piolín" Sotelo, (born December 1, 1972) is a Mexican radio broadcaster. He is currently host of the nationally syndicated radio show El Show De Piolín on Entravision. His nickname means "Tweety" in Mexican Spanish, a nickname he acquired as a child. Fans of his and his cast also call him “papuchón,” which means “big daddy.” And that's how we got from one thing to another.