Friday. To bed by ten, which I guess by now I consider the usual time, up with the alarm and off to breakfast. Overcast day, the people on the radio talking about a probable BART strike starting again on Monday and how the nasty Russians have decided to allow Mr. Snowden to stay. Oh, and the Egyptians are in a mess. All things you listen to as you get ready to go out for breakfast.
Last evening went rather well. The sake was very nice, no apparent after effects this morning, we'll try some more the next time we go to the supermarket. Life in the fast lane here in the swamps just north of Lake Merritt, flying along on two glasses of sake, the reality of which I've beaten to death morning after morning after morning.
You beat everything to death morning after morning after morning.
Gets us up and out of bed in the mornings. Not sure I'd like to depend on pictures alone for the deed. We are, after all, out here in uncharted territory (residing in swamps just north of Lake Merritt).
Later. An overcast early morning so we took the long lens and walked over to the lake, few if any birds in evidence, but a lucky shot of a gull with a mussel in its beak and another I like of the resident oddly colored Mallard over where he or she hangs out by the white columned pergola.
A short no more than a five minute walk along the lake, stopping to look at the watch: maybe go back to the apartment, change lenses, catch the downtown bus to go by the ATM and then on downtown to see if they've started working again on the Latham Square project? I did and it turns out they were.
What was meant to be a short trip downtown turned into two hours of photographing workers putting planters, interesting looking barriers and a big Latham sign in place. It was a long two hours and I was finished well before they were finished and so went home on another bus to commiserate with new and various aches and pains.
The Oakland Art & Soul Festival is running over the weekend, so we'll be taking a whole lot of pictures in the next two days as well, putting pressure on my guitar practice (and my back - I've had too many photo sessions in a row this week).
Home to have cottage cheese mixed with grapes for lunch (we're still wresting with those three extra pounds, coming in two pounds over on the scale this morning) and to consider a nap. Well, to take a nap. We'll be honest.
Later still. A nap of sorts, a trip downstairs to the garage to add the new year sticker to my license plate and tuck this year's registration into the car's glove compartment. I'd very studiously taped the new registration and sticker to the kitchen calendar months ago when they'd arrived to be sure I changed it at the beginning of this month, but completely forgot about it by two days. No big deal, but all that clever calendar effort with so little return. Not worth mentioning if it hadn't make me fidget.
Some things are silly, some things are sillier still and forgetting and then mentioning something like this sits at the bottom of the list. They're not going to pull me over because I'm driving two days late without a new license plate sticker with all the updated paperwork sitting in the glove compartment. Why am I even thinking/talking about it, other than I keep watching for signs of forgetfulness?
You do go on.
Maybe cut our losses and stop.
Evening. Some guitar, some work on the pictures, nothing much on television, although I'll watch Dalziel and Pasco at eight. And then to bed. A long day, a longer two days (I suspect) tomorrow and Sunday. We're cookin’.