Beside The Bed
Friday. There wasn't really anything on television last night, a Charlie Rose interview with the editors of The Guardian on the Snowden story, interesting enough, and a Tavis Smiley interview with Booker T. Haven't heard anything from Booker T in a while. Then to bed.
And I mentioned I'd started that second Maigret mystery?
I finished it about midnight, so up this morning an hour late to head off to breakfast and back on what they're saying (and what I'm believing from the current temperature) is going to be a very warm weekend. Should make for a steamy Gay Pride Parade.
Other than that, we'll see what another Friday may hold for photographs and ocular incidents. Hold on tight my bucko's, this train has started.
Later. Out the door after eleven, back by eleven-thirty. It's warm out there and getting warmer. I'd set out along the lake taking a picture of the geese (their numbers almost demand a picture) and another of a female black-crowned night heron who was gazing intently into the water out on a boom in the lake. I've only seen them standing along the shore, experts in not noting your presence unless you get too close. This one's focused for some reason on lunch in deeper waters for reasons of her own.
Sat for a while on a bench in the shade giving some thought to getting up and walking over through the farmers market for a picture or two, no interest in heading on to the usual place this early for lunch, finally remembering it was Friday and not Saturday and there was no farmers market on Fridays (this dawning on me when the market area came into view). Silly me.
Maybe take a bus downtown soon before it gets any warmer.
Later still. A bus downtown and a walk through the City Center to have lunch in the San Francisco Soup Company across from Starbucks as all the outside tables with umbrellas were occupied by people still having lunch in the late noon hour: a small cup of turkey chili, a side salad and a lemonade. Didn't finish the chili.
Back on the bus, but stopping to pick up an ice cream cone at the 7-11 look-alike on the way, keeping to the shaded side of the street on the sidewalk, sitting here now in front of the computer with the fan going full tilt. I mentioned it was warm out there. It is and they're saying warmer still over the weekend.
Are you complaining?
I'm sitting here with a fan blowing cool air my way. No complaints. Then again, on the trip downtown, no pictures.
Evening. Nothing on I wanted to watch at six, so a Netflix movie that proved itself to be of minimal interest. The evening temperature is coming down slowly, the sliding glass doors wide open, the fan beside me doing its best to this now cooler air inside. There's an iffy, but watchable English detective thing at eight and then, if we're unlucky, we'll start that third and last Maigret paperback sitting on the stack beside the bed.