Quite the day.

Yes. Well. Of small concern to anyone was this: decided to see if the dog would like to go to a boarding place for a few hours to play with other dogs, since it’s 30 below and he’d been cooped up inside. The place was close to work, and I thought it might be a nice way to give him some fun while I was at the office. On the way back to the office, I saw this, and it made me realize how nice it was to have sun. It's the stadium going up a block from the office. If you didn’t know what it was, you’d have no idea.

After a meeting I called up the webcam at the boarding facility.

Uh oh. This is Scout.

As far as I could tell from my observations over the next half hour, that was the most he ventured out from the corner. Of course, it breaks your heart. He thinks he’s abandoned! The calamitous noise of the place has brought back memories of the shelter!

If you noticed the landing page graphic had changed, and you thought “He blurred out the Charlie Hebdo cover out of fear,” all the things Reddy is painting this year are stylized. I know this because I’ve designed them for two months out.

I wrote a lot about this tonight, but I’m going to let it cook for a day. Tomorrow, then. Big old-time screed. Maybe I'll post it on Ricochet. Let a day pass and see if the depair abates a bit.

Today's entry tells the story of the Man Who Eschewed Eyewear:

The origin of the scar, and its relation to his vision problems, may be information Tony and Fred took to their grave.

Unless they told Mrs. Phil Truck, of course.

The most modern thing for miles around . . . for a while.

Even in this state it's impressive. Must have been a wonder when it was brand new, though - I'll bet that second-floor glas was transparent, with stylish dresses on mannikins, gesturing down to the good folk of Columbus.

The First National Bank. Or as it might say on the cramped pediment: The Frst Ntnl Bnk.

If it was a First Nat, that is. I'm pretty sure it was a bank, but there's one security flaw a clever thief might have observed on a hot August day. Can you spot it?

Folks 'round these parts still talk of the great Mud Hurricane of '82:

Not the greatest cee-ment job there, and you have to wonder why the trees are spaced as they are. It's so close to lining up it must drive the OCD-types insane.

A beaut, sheathed in patriotic hues:

It's a restaurant now. And a performance venue. The marquee occasionally has cryptic messages that make sense only to the underground.

The Ghost Sign: an inscrutible palimpsest.

By sharpening, saturating, and boosting the contrast, I've been able to determine that this was an advertisement for a variety of products over a particular span of time.

Other than that, I got nothin'.

On the other hand, I think I can make this one out:

William Hanna and Joseph Barbera come to mind, but there's no relation. Drat.

Imagine if the building was purchased by secretive men in black suits with dark glasses who said nothing to anyone and quickly blocked up the second and third floor windows so humans would not detect their operational base for interstellar invasion.

It must have been a beautiful building, once.

This one still is: The Hanna sign is on the side of this one, btw. It's the Masonic Temple.

Every town of a certain size has one of those, if they're lucky. Also one of these:

Really! Something that says someone invested in downtown in the post-war years, and gave it something new and Modern. Pride of downtown when it went up, I'll bet. Even if it was the Phone Company.

That'll do for today. Still haven't gotten wife's cold, but who knows. Any minute now, perhaps. See you around.