Without Our Asking
Friday. Awake at seven, up and off to breakfast and back after getting to bed last night after eleven, the guitar lesson coming up in less than an hour. Best to get ready.
Later. Ah, well. At least the day is quite nice. Warm for a change, bright sun, pumps the attitude up. Not such a great guitar lesson, but maybe my fallow winter is now done and there are better times ahead. Those chord changes, for example, a near future on the horizon where they're tighter and on the beat. We're ready to take the beating to get us up and on the beat. We are. Not that there's a beating involved, you understand, just, um, practice.
Home now. No side trips to the supermarket. Whatever it is we've been buying at the market has probably not been all that good for us, so we'll see if we can do something about that. Not something we've done much of anything about in the past (other than avoid the fried stuff at breakfast, which does indeed seem to have had an effect), so let's see what can be done. I've paid attention during periods in my deep dark past. I can (I think still) cook as I did in my days in Napa. I can. Really.
Later still. A pretty good bus ride downtown and walk through the Old Oakland farmers market on 9th, heading on to the Asian Cultural Center to sit and eat a slice of strawberry cheese cake by the fountain, thinking, well, we'll get to the decent diet after I'm done. Diddle-dee-done.
I'm not surprised.
Nor am I, nor are we, nor are you. Doodle-dee-do.
Anyway, clear headed, attitude good, sinus-upper palate staying in the background, the guitar sitting on its stand in the living room. I often get my longest practice sessions in on the afternoons of the day of my lesson either through guilt or because the lesson itself has been encouraging (I'll go with encouraging). So we'll see. Maybe leave it at that. You say feeling fine often enough and the Fates (if they're in the mood) will teach you a humility lesson.
Evening. A Wallandar at six, one I haven't seen before, Swedish, with an unfamiliar actor playing the lead. Odd series, but I keep watching.
Still feel pretty good, the sinus-upper palate remains in the background, we'll maybe watch another Netflix movie and continue on the guitar. Yes, I've actually been practicing the finger picking riffs, maybe switch to the chord changes for a while. It's but the first day of practice, of course, a good sign, but we need to be saying (and doing) this same thing come Friday. And they do come, these Fridays, without our asking.