May Have Another
Monday. A decent night's sleep, although I woke up a couple of times with foot cramps. They started a couple of months back and I mentioned them to my sister who said, “oh, yeah, dehydration and lack of Potassium”, she has to be careful or she gets them too. Oh. You mean I'm not drinking enough water? “Or not getting enough Potassium if you're taking a diuretic.” Which I'm not. Night before last was fine as I kept on top of the water, last night less good, so we'll do better with the water today. And eat a banana for the Potassium. So many things to keep track of and now bananas and water too. I'm getting in over my head.
I ran some pictures of the family party through the Photoshop mill this morning after going out for the Times and a cup of coffee (caffeine is evidently a diuretic and I have to think about that too, doodle-dee-do). But it was a small cup and life is fine.
Some plans today for pictures and other things, we'll see what they are and post something about them here.
Later. A walk over through Tigard, the local small town. I'd walked the short main drag though Tigard in my early days shooting film, looking for things to shoot having at that time very little experience with buildings and towns and signs and such, and my short walk today brought back memories.
One or two familiar places that I'd found a way to photograph in the past or had lunch at or something similar. It seemed different, somewhat smaller and simultaneously the same. Highway 99W, the road that travels by it, the road I came in on heading east from the coast, is a classic American traffic jam.
I wouldn't want to live in Tigard. Fine to travel there, I suppose, on an errand, something I know my sister doesn't do, there are too many large suburban stores nearby, so, well. Anyway, some pictures for old times sake in Tigard, a feeble attempt to bring an old photography corpse back into the light.
That sounds a little grim. Corpse
It does. A bit of an overstatement until you've driven that highway, of course. Brings back all the horrors of driving every clogged Central Avenue, Market Street, Broadway in every suburban sprawl like it. The American automobile dream brought down finally by cancer and old age. And hyperbole, I suppose.
Later still. A movie with some friends tonight, a DVD, not a theater, so they'll be hors d'oeuvres and some things to drink. This is good. I've been out for another hour with my sister in Portland and, although I had a nap earlier, I think I may have another now. I mean what the hell, why not? Here in Oregon.
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