Category: Fourre-tout

I just finished writing a summary of yesterday’s happening in Sonoma, and Tarnation, I misplaced the document and I feel too tired to rewrite it again.

In a few words… Yesterday when I came to Sonoma, I arrived early and left early. I managed to take around 100 pictures, and my left arm aching, I packed my gear and went home.

Fortunately, Bleys Rose stayed behind and managed to take pictures of the winners and the ensuing celebration.

One more time, I apologize for my mistake.

Alain

PS: Watch both albums as usual. Thank you

Due to some uncooperative body parts, I have abstained from participating in recent tournaments. However, since I can still wield a camera with my other arm, I was able to document my experience at the Marin pétanque field yesterday.

Upon my late arrival, I was surprised by the sparse attendance. Despite Mother Nature providing perfect pétanque weather, only ten “doublettes” (20 players) showed up to compete. Although there were some excellent players present, it was a bit disappointing. It is high time we reintroduced the pom-pom girls (or pom-pom guys) to energize our events and boost attendance.

The format of this tournament was somewhat unconventional, with all teams playing five games and with no eliminations. There were no separate Concours or Consolante events; winners were determined based on the number of wins and points accumulated.

As a photographer, I aimed to cover as much ground as possible, but I inevitably found myself lingering where the most interesting action unfolded. Yesterday, that meant watching my wife’s fourth game.

She played alongside Mark Luria, a relatively inexperienced player. After losing three games in a row, they were eager to salvage the day with at least one win. However, they faced two determined and seasoned opponents: Lynn Bell and Caitlin Woodbury.

The game began well for the home team, and soon they were leading 8-0. A smile began to blossom on Tamara’s face as she glimpsed the light at the end of a frustrating day.

But, as in any endeavor, it’s crucial not to coast before crossing the finish line. Fueled by desperation, Lynn and Caitlin fought back and began to score points. They finally chalked up four points, igniting a slow but powerful comeback.

Their secret weapon was Lynn’s calm, precise pointing, complemented by Caitlin’s explosive shooting. Unfortunately, the other side had little artillery, despite Tamara delivering some impressive shots.

As the game neared its conclusion, Tamara’s team held a 12-11 lead but struggled to seal the deal. In a dramatic twist, they lost 12-13.

For the record, Tamara and Mark also lost their fifth game, and it didn’t improve the mood. Yes, folks, it was a tough day at the OK Corral, and that night I ended up without dinner.

Final results:

1st place: Bernard Passemar & John Morrison
2nd place: Sandra Shirkey & Bleys Rose
3rd place: Lynn Bell & Caitlin Woodbury

Alain

PS: watch pictures on iPad or computer for best viewing

Like many of my neighbors, I seem to be running out of space. You can tell because their garages, already crammed with junk, force them to park their cars in their driveway. It’s a sure sign that their storage is overflowing with “stuff.”

But unlike my neighbors, I don’t need more physical space. Strangely enough, what I’m running out of is mental space.

When you’re born, you’re given a big brain—one that’s empty and spanking clean. As you grow older, you start accumulating things, and like a packrat, you can’t seem to make wise choices about what to keep. So, you hold on to it all.

It starts innocently enough. One day, as a baby, you mumble something that sounds like “miam-miam,” and your mother goes ecstatic. “Did you hear? He said, ‘Mommy!’ What a smart little guy! He’s going to be a doctor, an artist—maybe even a messiah.”

Of course, you have no idea what you said, but because it pleased your mother, you unconsciously stored that little nugget of information. And over the years, more and more piles up: cuss words, foreign words, math, porn, gossip, political nonsense, feelings, colors. Before long, your mental vault is cluttered—overstuffed and for some, even a bit smelly.

The older you get, the more you hoard, until one day your brain, like an exhausted computer, starts coughing and demanding more “lebensraum” (Hello Adolf). “Hey buddy, I have no more space! If you want more flexibility, you’re going to have to clear out some junk—or invade Czechoslovakia.”

And that’s why, as you grow older, you start forgetting things. Your brain does it automatically, tossing out the old to make room for the new.

But now, thanks to AI, the problem is only going to get worse. The tech industry is handing us powerful little gadgets that will do the remembering for us. We won’t need to store anything anymore—our digital servants will handle it all.

So, you think? Big mistake, my friends! Always keep in mind who slew Caesar! His most intimate friends, the keepers of all his secrets!

So don’t laugh at older folks who don’t remember trivial details. As the Montgolfier brothers ever said: “drop stuff, you will gain altitude.”

Alain