We are good, the various body parts are working, we're thinking of walking down to the farmers market with a camera and taking a picture this time. Two pictures, they don't take up much room.

Can you do a day without talking about your sinuses?

No, probably not. This doesn't look to be a day for miracles, although, having said that, the sun just now appeared through the clouds. But just, for a moment.

Later. The sky cleared quite nicely, so I walked out in a sweater and a light jacket that was just warm enough at the beginning, more than warm enough by the end. Over by the lake to see who might be congregating, drumming, dancing this early in the morning, walking on then to the farmers market to have a Belgian waffle topped with whipped cream. Turns out my stomach wasn't ready for any damned whipped cream, but I got it down and continued on around to Lakeshore for the sun and the walk if not for the pictures.

Back by the lake a Caporeia group was practicing, so I stopped and took but a single picture. I'd been looking for shots, but not looking very hard, walking on then to sit at a bench and watch one or two of the birds diving for food, thinking (finally) to make an adjustment to better expose the bird's head, to at least get the eyes to pop, thinking, if I were actually after birds instead of just out here dinking around, I'd have brought a longer lens. And use some of the knowledge I've gained on setting up a camera for this kind of shot. I'm attributing this thinking to a sign of a clearer head and increasing ambition than anything else, so good. Maybe we'll go back with a properly set up camera and do it right, but later. Much later.

Yeah, yeah.

It might happen. Time for something more to blossom in this weather than bitching and sleeping, don't you think? Self?

Later still. Still plenty of sun, but a nip in the air, so leaving the sweater behind and just taking the light jacket was almost a mistake. Still, a walk along the same path as this morning's, lunch out at a table at the usual place, a walk back along the lake again, passing two drummers practicing in front of the fountain. No long lens, no other preparations, just a nice walk to lunch and back, no regrets (or photographs).

I think I'll learn a Beatles tune before I start this week's lesson. A little needed change to stir the pot. You do learn to play the guitar to play music, right? I sometimes I think I forget why I set out to learn the guitar, this funky headed stuff I bitch about maybe doing more than just causing me to forget a name or two or missing a shot because I forgot to take a lens cap off. There is an aspect to guitar practice that just has to do with the practice itself, a kind of practice of the art of practice. But that's probably too off the wall to explain.

You never take a lens cap out with you when you shoot.

Nor has a lens cap ever caused me to lose a shot.

Evening. A Commissario Brunetti at six that I've seen before (set in Venice, done in German) so I switched around between other programs as I was watching. Tuned the guitar too, but that takes but a couple of minutes. We'll struggle through, make do with learning In My Life, I think, nice tune, get to this week's lesson later. Pretty exciting around here for a Saturday night, don't you think?

The head is clear?

A bit tired, took a couple of short naps if you can call lying down on the bed for twenty minutes a nap, but yes. The evenings are usually clear headed, an episode of House now running in the background. I'm new enough to House that I haven't seen any of these they're running and the experience is new enough I'm not really sure what they're about.

Have you noticed how many drug companies advertise on House?

I have. A show for hypochondriacs? Do drug ads really work all that well? I have to admit what seems to be a fascination for the cartoon like butting of heads in this slash and burn hospital fantasy, people in peril adding the necessary rationale for the fireworks, but, I don't know, maybe it's attractive to some for the idea this guy, this group, fixes all that ails even the most terminal seeming patient in the space of an hour (except for the ones who die, of course). “Oops”, the doctors will occasionally say (in embarrassment). I can relate to that.