There are attractive little pieces of graffiti - like the No Matter What-ness that's suddenly appeared on our sidewalk - and then there is the spray-paint kind - not the sort that gets commemorated at MOCA, but the scraggy thin letters proclaiming the territory of one local gang or another that periodically marks its turf on our garage doors. This time, it had also primed up its can of silver-white paint on our front steps. Not what one needs. Or not what Alice needed, since she valiantly took on the task of cleaning. I spent most of the day trying to get my slide scanner to work with an up to date Mac - and finally succeeded in doing so around 10.45 p.m. A long and frustrating day, in other words.