Private Gum Shoe, or ballistic Fife, or Private Ballistic Dick

My strange ballisticTour of a life lands me in unforeseen places, serving functions not commonly listed on my resume, assuming I have one. Tonight I am guarding a dwelling high on a hill overlooking San Diego bay, and downtown SD beyond.

In case no one remembers Barney Fife, I guess I should call this portion of my enterprise the private whatever. Or ballistic whatnot. I have a radio playing Mexican music downstairs to confuse the enemy. And I am armed with, um, arms. Two of them. I can always throw my shoes at any evil doers, should they be so foolish as to molest the premises on my watch.

The view is the sort I'd seen in Architectural Digest years ago. The spreads they did of houses with decks that overlooked hot shot cities. This is the very bay where they tested the America's Cup boat. It is not out there at this moment.

I left the lowest level dark with a metal chair precariously placed in the stairwell so that they'd either trip, make noise or be otherwise inconvenienced should the intruder try to come in from down there. Too bad good old fashioned, deadly man traps are frowned upon in the courts. I see nothing wrong with rigging a shotgun to go off if someone enters uninvited.

This is a phone pic, and it is night so it doesn't do much justice to the view. Just consider that this is how it would look if your eyesight was impaired with cataracts or something.


This is unrelated. Just another phone pice from a couple of days ago when I swung by the 6000 ft place to get some altitude on Mt Leguna, as the sun was setting behind me.


So, here I am. I broke out the inflatable Morgan bed, and my sleeping bag. I even brought the camp stove and an espresso maker, just in case. The walls are enclosed and some lights work. It is much less messy than my place and they are in the middle of construction. I wonder if that should make me worry.