The bathroom scale that arrived yesterday is indeed made primarily of glass, a thick sheet that provides a platform to stand on. My old, chipped, mechanical scale reads two pounds lighter than this new beast, a pretty good match up for a mechanical something that's lasted for thirty years. Probably made in America at five times the cost (in inflation adjusted dollars). But that's not a place I want to visit, too many elements to consider, too much hypocrisy surrounding the subject. But still, two pounds difference. I now weigh one hundred and sixty one instead of one hundred and fifty nine. I suspect life will not end with the news.

I see where satellite data indicates January was the warmest month (worldwide) ever recorded in its 32 year history. The last warmest period was during the El Niño year of 1997 - 1998 and climate denialists have used the somewhat cooler temperatures following, when an El Niño wasn't present, as “proof” global warming is a hoax. Ah yes. Evidently the changes in world temperatures combined with a new El Niño have concentrated cold air over the Northern land masses to give us the feeling of a colder year, but worldwide this hasn't been the case. No more of this, but a press that seems to support a denial of global warming will probably support anything, no matter how off the wall, no matter how embarrassing it should be in a place where journalism is supposedly being done.

Stop.

OK, OK. The sun is out, here in Oakland. A “wet” winter, yes, but a cold winter it ain't. It's probably blown our fuses in the other direction, allowing us to pay attention to these notoriously fickle scientific conceits, NASA and their ilk. We all know they're in cahoots with the Dark Forces of Doom, leading us on to socialism and ultimate defeat. With competence, of course, some good things can be said about them, but overall the direction is down without a parachute.

Stop, stop.

Later. Standing at the bus stop at ten thirty, taking a picture, the bus arriving at ten forty and on BART before eleven; off BART at Montgomery Street not long after, a walk then to the six hundred block of Kearney for lunch with Ms. R, Mr. J and Mr. S, all friends from the old days at APL. My, my. The old days. Good old days as the days go by, no need to remember any of the negatives. And there were really not all that many negatives given the range of companies you can work for in this world. No regrets, very few complaints, lots of pictures.

Back now after two, a call to Mr. S over in the Oakland Hills to say I'm pooped, but how is the new batch of beer coming along? They'll be finished just after three? Good. Maybe then I'll bail after all that excitement eating lunch in San Francisco, the town that sits at the end of the rainbow. Of course I'm exaggerating - end of the rainbow - but at least there were some nice looking ladies loose on the streets, most of them young enough to be grand daughters.

You don't really lust after women that young?

No, no. It's strange though to think women in their forties are jail bait anymore, women in their fifties are possible, but really only if you've got a really big bank roll. Women in their sixties are just fine, of course, but most of them are, well, discerning after years of experience in the wild. The wilds of San Francisco.

You've degenerated into the babble again.

It has been a long day, this day in February. I did ask the group for recommendations for an area here in California or Arizona that would make for a good photography expedition the last week in March as my sister wants to escape the Portland rain during Spring break with her camera. Some thoughts were exchanged. It is coming up pretty soon. Time passes quickly in Oakland anymore.