Sunday. Lights out early and, as it turned out, to sleep earlier than usual, and awake without needing the alarm at five minutes to six. OK, not bad, felt pretty good, up to get ready to drive to breakfast, except none of the morning papers had arrived.

Waited a good half hour for the Chronicle and the Times, gave up on the East Bay Times, drove to breakfast and, throwing caution to the wind, had the avocado with cheese omelet with country potatoes, fruit cup and coffee. What the hell? The sun was now up and it was going to be a nice day. Hey.

Home to finish and post yesterday's entry and then lie down for a nap. An hour's nap, with periods close to sleep, to finally get up and think about heading to San Francisco to photograph the Summer of Love street festival that started at eleven-thirty on Valencia Street. Nice day out there, all seemed in order. Except I really didn't, for whatever reason, want to go. Plenty of work left to do on the St. Patrick's Day pictures and I'm dragging my feet.

So, from yesterday, if you don't go, you'll walk the lake on your new get more exercise proclamation?

Hmm.

Later. So much for heading out to photograph the street festival as the mouth went dry and the same sparkly edged blob appeared when closing the left eye. Not over the top, but more than enough to sit you right down, no question to going anywhere for pictures. This crap lasted for a number of hours. Goodbye cheese omelets for breakfast.

Finally hungry, the temperature outside approaching eighty, walked over to the lake to see if going out might further clear the head. The earlier ocular migraine symptoms had pretty much receded and the air felt good. And we were heading out in a t-shirt. No winter jacket, sweater or long sleeved pull over, just the t-shirt. Summer garb.

Walked over to the lake, lots of people about, the drummer group going full tilt. Just walked through, no thought to stop, still no idea what I might like to eat, although I was hungry. On to Lakeshore before turning around and almost getting something to eat at at least three different places, but each time finding a way to just pass by.

Evening. Spent time processing the few pictures I'd taken while at the lake as well as the St. Patrick's Day pictures and continuing to work on the web pages that would be required. Tired and to bed again early, just before eight. Strange day, strange evening.