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One billion drinks per day. That's the figure Coca Cola is so proud of, as we learned from their fascinating website yesterday. But what is a drink? By defining a drink as 8 ounces, they can pat themselves on the back for one heck of a big business. Today on the morning walk with the dog, I took a snapshot of the 'Double Big Gulp,' which by entering "1.9 liters in cups" into the Google's new math-aware search box, you can determine is 8 drinks.

If Coca Cola used an average size drink, they'd give a better picture of the number of purchases people make to get those 8 billion ounces of fizzy water.

On the way back from hearing a beautiful and moving Bach Cantata last night at the season-opening concert of the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra (LACO), we stopped at the bookstore and leafed through Napoleon's Buttons, 17 molecules that changed the world [buy at amazon] . It looked great, but there's no shortage of unfinished reading around the house. Napoleon's buttons (made of tin which fell apart in the hard Russian winter -- what if they hadn't?) will have to wait.

One of the white-haired ladies in the neighborhood accosted me with information. In the course of her investigations she had uncovered the Master List of Numbers that you can call to complain. Slow-moving, old, sometimes forgetful, she rattled off the agencies that might soon be hearing from her, displaying the youthful verve of a US Marine drill sergeant. One of the numbers was where you can call to complain about leaf blower noise, and I jokingly suggested that it would save her the trouble of having to shoot the leaf blowers, which despite the passage of an ordinance banning them, are endemic in our neighborhood.

"My son gave me a gun," she said. "It starts with an 'R'"

"A Ruger?"

"That's it."

"You should get rid of it. What good is it going to do you? Take it to the next neighborhood watch meeting and give it to the police."

"I used to practice, over at that place"

"The Beverly Hills Gun Club, over there?" I waved my hand in the general direction of Santa Monica, about four miles away, where there used to be a pistol range.

"That's the place." Then, somewhat unexpectedly... "I'm a good shot."

"I've got bullets, too. Hollow points. You can't get those anymore," she said wistfully. "They're illegal."

"Hey, how did you know I have a gun?"

"You told me."

Here it is, a foggy day in West LA; I can barely see the oil wells across the way. September 11 has come and not gone.

I really appreciated what Meg Hourihan had to say about her friend Manny

In other news, it seems the thieves didn't take my didgeridou after all. I had merely mislaid that five-foot-long wooden bong (it's not a bong, but it rhymes better. Besides, I notice that bongs are in the news, as Chong was convicted of conspiracy to sell drug paraphernalia. Evidently 25 people were working for Chong Glass, which might better have been called Chong's Bongs).

I started the day with some elemental sounds from the Australian outback, and the dog howled below.

I saw from a distance a maelstrom of little dogs swirling about, barking happily. one presumes happily? Other sightings and soundings: a car alarm that would not go off, a woman standing by the car peacefully, waiting for her ride; a woman I know to be employed as an oncology nurse, wrestling her two dogs along the walk, a fuming (fumous?) cigarette gripped firmly in her mouth.

Opportunity: the domain name IWantYouToStopSmoking.com apparently still available. Go for it! I want you to stop smoking, but Phillip Morris (now part of altria group) doesn't. Their back-to-school comments are informative.

As I walked across the park I saw three elderly Chinese ladies going through their slow morning Tai Chi exercise. As I looked more closely, however, I noticed something unusual. Each one of the ladies was holding what looked like a red cloth, hanging limp at the end of a stick. What was it that they were simulating?

Maybe, I thought, the red cloth took the place of a sword, which they might be reluctant to carry in public. The Tai Chi sword is one of the well-known Chinese martial arts weapon forms which can be seen in Los Angeles, but it's fairly uncommon to see people flailing their swords about in public.

Then, in a crimson flash, the ladies were suddenly holding huge red paper fans, which they had flicked open in an instant. Fans! They moved slowly in unison for a few more moments, and just as quickly the fans disappeared as the ladies snapped them shut.

I had never seen a fan form practiced; it was dramatic.

On my morning walk, I cruised by the local middle school just as it opened. It was a real slice of Los Angeles life. The line of cars for drop-off snaked bumper to bumper, halfway around the block. Parents living nearby formed another stream of humanity, walking their kids to school. In many cases the whole family strolled along for the ride, mothers pushing their babies, the short teenagers walking in front.

It was clearly the first day of school; one video-camera-carrying mother followed her daughter closely, filming the whole trip.

It seemed like a great way to beat traffic.