No End Runs
Tuesday. I did watch whatever it was that started at nine and ended at ten-thirty last night and so got up maybe half an hour late this morning. No complaints, I understand who's to blame. Up though, feeling pretty good, to have a decent breakfast. Raining off and on as they'd forecast, but we'll head out for San Francisco at ten-thirty and hope it's not raining during (what I'm assuming will be) a not well attended charade parade. They don't get a great big turnout on sunny days, let alone rainy days like this one.
Will they cancel?
Best to check the web site and maybe check the brain to see if it hasn't shorted a circuit.
Later. It wasn't raining when I headed out the door and got on the bus, getting off at the ATM on Broadway and then walking on to BART where I took the train to the Embarcadero station in San Francisco. Felt pretty good, no thoughts I shouldn't be going, just, you know, heading out happily to take photographs.
I arrived a good hour before the “parade” was due to start, just a very few people having arrived so far near the fountain. Then it started coming down and so a cup of coffee under a building overhang by one of the walk in coffee shops, thinking maybe we're not going to want to walk out there when it starts and get the cameras wet. Wasn't worried about me, of course, having dressed for the weather.
Then the rain stopped, then an hour of shooting pictures until the parade started along the sidewalk up Market and I ducked into the BART station, caught a train that was just then arriving and got back to Oakland with enough time before the next bus was due to arrive to have another cup of coffee at the City Center. Inside this time as it had started raining again, really started.
What to say? Back home to work on the pictures. Maybe as many as a dozen of them pretty good, enough others good enough to make up two full web sections, but plenty of work yet to get them processed.
Evening. More work on the pictures, some time on the guitar (but not enough time on the guitar), an interesting Charlie Rose with a guest who's just written a book about high speed stock trading and how it's used to scrape twenty billion a year from the hides of unsuspecting slower speed investors. To bed at nine.
More work still to be done on the pictures, they'll get done later tomorrow or on Thursday. What can I say? There are no end runs you can make around it.
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