We'll see. As I mentioned (at great length), yesterday did indeed finish in a pretty good state, the head clear, the eyes bright. Watched the Saturday night six o'clock police procedural Beck discovering it's made in Sweden rather than the Netherlands. You learn. Eventually. Even in Oakland.

I've noted (authoritatively) here, of course, more than once, that it was made in the Netherlands. Still a weird bird of a series, the often more than mildly self destructive characters aren't warm and cuddly, some of them (well, all of them, with but one or two exceptions) acting out and making Politically Incorrect personal and police moves, usually to their own chagrin. I find it interesting, I guess. Here in the West.

Later. An easy enough to describe later morning and early afternoon, working on the photographs and posting them to HereInOakland. I'll move them over later to ArtAndLife, but first I want to think about changing out one or two with something better than those I have up there now. I like some of the motion blurred pictures I took and I'd like to use more on the site. It is “ecstatic” dancing after all.

A walk then through the heat (it has indeed gotten up into the eighties, a bit warm for walking) to the morning restaurant for a grilled cheese sandwich, ice cream and coffee. And ice water. Inside, this time, no need to sit out on the patio at the one available table without an umbrella and bake.

So far no thought of a nap, but I'll see what happens later when I experiment and lie down. I had the double vision problem walking over to the café, but again, it had pretty much corrected itself by the time I was walking back. Don't experience it inside in the mornings, but often when I first get out the first time for a walk. I'll mention it again when I next see the docs.

Later still. Changed the index picture on the ecstatic dancers photographs (which means, if you followed the link above, my comments didn't make any sense), but such is life (and they, of course, have now been copied to ArtAndLife). We'll take a shot at that nap now, see if the lights go out.

Evening. An hour's nap, up finally at five. I'd been listening to the radio as I dozed off and came to consciousness slowly, the radio and the world coming into focus slowly, the mind picking up bits and pieces as it put it back together again. I'm not sure what a nap like that means or portends, there were dis-associative elements as I was awakening I normally find in the now rare ocular migraines, but at least things look a lot more solid as I write.

Time for guitar, go over that riff. The six o'clock police procedural is one of the depressing Italian variety, so we'll practice along without accompaniment.