Later. Another nice day, the warmest every recorded for this day in Oakland, but then they're all the hottest/longest/strongest ever recorded in this city/state/country/continent these days, are they not? I've sometimes wondered if being born at the end of World War II, being a teenager during the 50's, a hippie during the 60's and 70's wasn't a pretty good plan after all, what with the tides rolling over California next year when the ice caps melt. Probably not. Better to be a young fart than an old fart (except for the freedom, the money and the peace of mind). They will do things with genetics that will allow us to live active lives well into our hundreds some time soon after I'm gone and maybe that would have been worth waiting to be born for except you never know. A bird in the hand, now is always the best (etc. etc.). Maybe Mr. bin Laden has used some of his millions to purchase a nice nuclear device from the Russians and has a plan for downtown Oakland next Friday night. I watched a segment on PBS news that discussed (in a responsible, non inflammatory and politically correct treatment, of course) all the reasons why things might really end at this artificial 1,000 year construct.

Perhaps I should be sure Mr. Wuss isn't outside on the balcony when the New Year arrives. Put him under the bed covered with a blanket to protect him from any adverse effects from the blast the way they taught us to do it in grade school in Edmonds in 1951. Training as good as any, I imagine, but then, perhaps, I imagine too much. Let's start again. Finish the tea and switch to Coca Cola. Whiskey as a last resort.

Later still. Thursday evening has always been the beginning of the weekend for me, the Friday night before Friday night. I'm not sure why. I got into the habit of watching the PBS mystery programs at 9:00 on Thursday evenings, although PBS likes to run and rerun these series ad infinitum to the point of indigestion. There are only so many times I can watch Inspector Morse grimace at the sight of a murdered victim. There are only so many times I can watch Hercule Peroit tweak his mustache. I can't watch Marple at all. Still, this is part of the reason my Thursday feels like a Friday night, something to look forward to, writing the journal, watching or listening to the TV behind me on the kitchen counter. I was going to say there were only so many times that I can watch Sherlock Holmes with Jeremy Brett, but I stopped and slapped myself around a little to clear my head. One does not tempt the gods with rude words and loose statements.