You never can tell who is a metal fan. Is it the soccer mom with a kid on her hip? Is it the 89-year-old woman who was already middle-aged when Ozzy Osbourne first became a rock star? Ozzy fans made for an interesting mix in conservative La Jolla on Friday when hundreds showed up for his book signing, which I covered for the La Jolla Light.

Mickey Connolly, who celebrated her 89th birthday on the same day, exits Warwick's bookstore after getting a bump to the front of the line to see Ozzy.

See more photos of Ozzy in the archive gallery: Ozzy Osbourne in La Jolla.

I spent some time in my hometown of Bakersfield, California this week. Every time I visit my parent’s house there seem to be more horses, including but not limited to these three stooges.

Ernie Els finished the Farmers Insurance Open tied for fifth place.

At the end of January I shot my first golf tournament ever. I think the fact that I was completely new to the sport – I had never even played golf before – just served to keep me at a heightened sense of awareness. All the banal details of the game were brand-spankin’ new to me and thus my camera was all over the place. At the end of a long day, however, I was glad to be off the green.

Check out the slideshow for my best shots of the final round of the Farmers Insurance Open.

See the article in the La Jolla Light here.

Farmers Insurance Open Golf Tournament – Images by Will Parson

Nicole Kennelly, director of UNOCH, poses in her office. UNOCH has filed a lawsuit challenging the requirement that all staff at Rady Children's Hospital that have not gotten an H1N1 vaccination don face masks and an identifying badge.

For another Citybeat story I had the interesting opportunity to meet and photograph an “intactivist” for Dave Maass‘ story “Circumspection” about the history of the circumcision debate.

Matthew Hess holds an unused foreskin restoration device. Hess has submitted bills to state and national assemblies proposing a revision to genital mutilation bills to make them gender neutral.

Finally, Voiceofsandiego.org had me skipping around town while their staff photographer/dynamo Sam Hodgson was on vacation. I’ll look forward to filling in for him again during his next scheduled leave, when his internal power reactor receives a firmware update in the year 2086.

“Hams Fight Pressure to go Lean” by Adrian Florido:

Gordon Schlesinger is an amateur HAM radio operator in the College Area. His backyard radio tower would have to be taken down if a new ordinance restricting the size of antennas applied retroactively to existing structures.

“Unraveling What Makes Us Who We Are” by Jonathan Parkinson:

Terry Jernigan, director of UCSD's Center for Human Development, with the types of brain images researchers will use in determining how genetics influence brain development and personality traits.

‘They Want to Feel Like a Kid’ by Emily Alpert:

Pam Hosmer works at the San Diego Unified School District providing resources for homeless students.

Deming Wyre, Marley Meyer and Maddie Meyer take a break from riding bikes to pose for a photo on Waverly Avenue. Their families, along with the rest of the 5500 block of Waverly Avenue, gave donations to rent a Snorkel boom lift to put up the lights.

I have to say I’m in the holiday spirit right now, replete with a gallon jug of egg nog and a Christmas tree loaded with presents.

Over the weekend I shot some pretty impressive holiday light displays in La Jolla, like the one above where some neighborhood kids were nice enough to hold still for a long exposure to get the lights shining brightly. See the story on the La Jolla Light website here.

And on the Meridian Collective website I’ve got a large photo essay from San Diego’s beaches. Hopefully that will cheer up whomever is stuck in the snow for the holidays!

Cowboy singer J Parson performs at the Monterey Cowboy Poetry and Music Festival on December 12.

Telling other children my dad was a cattle rancher got me a reputation as something of a farm boy among my school friends. I remember my severe reluctance during the few times a year when I’d have to get on a horse and help push cattle for a few hours. After the grown-ups would sort the cattle and the calves were ready to get branded and castrated maybe I’d hold the nut bucket. Or, if help wasn’t needed with flanking the calves I’d be tasked with collecting the excised bovine scrota to count at the end of the round-up.

Some nights my dad would come in after feeding the horses, sit down in the kitchen or living room and start playing guitar and singing Johnny Cash, Marty Robbins and maybe a little George Strait. Maybe six years ago he started playing his songs for larger audiences. Soon enough he was singing the National Anthem at a rodeo, singing the theme song for a western-themed cooking show and flying to shows across the country. My dad was meeting cowboys with facial hair so flagrant they made my dad’s graying red mustache seem unassuming by comparison.

This weekend I traveled up to Monterey, CA this weekend to see my dad sing cowboy songs and absorb the strange culture of cowboy poetry and music. People with the most elaborate western clothing you’ve ever seen, accented with brilliant silver and immaculate leather fringe, flooded a convention center in downtown Monterey to listen to cowboys sing about being cowboys.

I hadn’t seen my dad perform in front of a large audience for years, if ever. For someone who talks slower than I do (and that’s pretty slow), my dad’s stage presence surprised me. He was making jokes like the 500 people in the audience – mostly gray-haired retirees in pristine beaver fur cowboy hats – were really just us family. And, when his set was over, a bunch of cowboys shouted in gravelly voices for one more song.