Tuesday. It took me until eleven last night (again) to finish up the photographs and so I got to bed an hour later than I would have liked, up this morning fifteen minutes before the alarm was due to go off at five forty-five (hard to figure that out), off and back from breakfast at the usual place. Another sunny day, a doctor's appointment later this afternoon at Stanford hospital in Palo Alto, my annual follow-up visit for the prostate surgery. Another test, another chance for excitement of a kind I'd rather not think about. Still, we've had others poking around looking for it recently and they came up empty handed. We shouldn't be concerned and we aren't concerned except maybe. A little.

You've started on a downer again.

I don't mean it to be. That's what it is, of course, checking to see if things are still wired together. I feel reasonably well wired together, just not editing my stream of consciousness enough. Everything here is a first draft, that's the way first drafts should go, throw it all in including the crap because sometimes what you're calling crap isn't crap. But then spend the time to edit out what's needed to make it work. The second part. The part I skip. I say through lack of time, but everyone says lack of time, it's the age we find ourselves living in. Can be a bitch from time to time, but they do at least make good cameras. And raspberry shortcake cookies. And sake. And (edit, my man, edit).

Later. A bus downtown to pick up a prescription and a bottle of vitamin B12 that ran out this morning, a bus after walking about half the way back up Broadway and around on Grand, a marginal, but decent amount of exercise. We weren't thinking in terms of exercise. Nippy out there, should have worn a warmer jacket. I was thinking of changing into something warmer and then heading on down to the morning café for lunch, but I'd be cutting it close before leaving for the doctor's appointment. Maybe have lunch down there as there's a café next to his office.

Later still. The drive down went well, the construction they warned me about around the parking garage was actually construction on the road approaching the hospital. A short - hello, how do you do, have any symptoms? - and then a walk down the hall for a PSA blood test. Driving back was more interesting. That road they'd blocked meant I had to drive into areas to me unknown. Let's just say it took longer to drive home than I was expecting. Still, this is the last doctor's appointment for the year, we're clear, not too much damage done. Unless that damned test has something more in store.

Evening. That's better. A bit of sake, a bit of sushi down the hill before the hour turned six. We've finished our doctor's appointments for the year and sushi and sake had a decent sound. It was good. They were good. We'll listen to some news, play the guitar for however long we're able and take in our early evening Korean soap, a soap so lame I wouldn't admit if I were you to knowing me other than to close friends. Who'll forgive such mistakes. And then? And then to bed, I would think. But only after a decent couple of hours with the guitar. Hup!