I've been noticing little “incidents” of forgetfulness this last month. Getting up to go to the bedroom to get something and then forgetting what that something was when I arrived, remembering then soon enough when I worked at it, but going through a minute or two of what in the hell am I here for? Working on the pages for artandlife last night, making odd little mistakes I haven't made in the past. All correctable, all just little this and that's, but you hope this isn't the beginning of something more serious. Yes, I've had these odd can't remember moments before, starting in my fifties, and they go through a period of say a month or two and then they go away. Let's hope these are of the same kind. Just a thought here, hammering away at the old computer, getting ready for another exciting day in February. A Thursday, I seem to recall.

Later. The grey is a much darker grey and the wind is a much stronger wind and I am back home to the apartment dry and done with the outdoors for the day. A picture or two, one on the bus after we'd passed the first BART entrance stop, just me, the two ladies and the driver, a walk then up the street through the Crucible gallery in the flatiron building at the corner of Broadway and Telegraph, a farther walk then to the City Center (no incentive to sit and watch the people pass, did I mention it was dark, getting darker and the wind was blowing?) with a decision to sit out on the patio in front of Peet's over a small coffee, but not before photographing the inflatable car displayed in the building. Car art. I (from my own limited perspective) understand what he or she was doing, the doing itself must have been interesting, but I suspect it's a lot easier (if you're as lazy as I) to be wielding a camera.

A photograph through a shoe repair shop window. I really didn't notice my own reflection until I'd gotten it into PhotoShop. I hadn't noticed the guy in the shop either until I moved back, he (seemingly glowering) in the background. But that could have been me, my perception, maybe the guy is always glowering. Maybe business is bad, although you'd think people might spend more money repairing old shoes than buying new ones. (I have a pair I need resoled, if I ever manage to get around to it.) The guy in the window was looking down on me as I got off the bus. I got the impression he wasn't looking specifically for me, but either way, I took the picture.

Otherwise what? The Internet tells me my bathroom scale is due today, hasn't yet arrived at one-thirty, so that's something to look forward to. The sky is even darker and the weather people, the never been wrong dear god weather people, say showers through Sunday, but we'll hope for better. Lunch tomorrow in San Francisco with Ms. R and two other ex-APL friends, let's hope it's not raining. And if it is I'll bring a plastic bag for the camera.