Monday. My, my, up with the alarm, to breakfast and the papers and back now before eight, a doctor's appointment later just down the way at nine forty-five. For the allergies, which have gone pretty much dormant now for these last several months. Makes me think my poor cat was the problem, but we still have to test that, bring a cat into the house for the month or so to see. Be a shame to then let her go if cats are the cause, but we'll think about it when and if. Breakfast and cats in one paragraph, my creative work for the day is done.

I had those two small bottles of sake last night that I'd picked up at the supermarket in the morning (along with the cereal - an ocular migraine culprit?) and felt just fine, staying up to watch my Korean soap at ten, to a clear headed bed by eleven. A very good morning after a later night with sake, so whatever I can come up with to blame on late nights and sake won't work this time. So maybe we'll just keep our mouth shut and punt.

Fat chance. You're a dork.

Indeed. I did end up getting in over three hours of guitar practice yesterday though. For some reason I just kept picking the thing up. And playing scales. And chords. And the riffs I was assigned for this week. Something about strumming two strings at a time instead of but one, picking them out without looking, two strings out of six. I have this funny feeling this is one of those things you end up using a lot when you actually know how to play, so they're not going away. Which is fine as I've made good progress, but we continue to learn without complaint. Some bitching, but no complaints. (Hup, hup. Mup.)

Later. Another sign of the times. I arrived at the doctor's office at nine forty-three, almost late, and discovered the appointment was for nine fifteen. Not a problem, as it turned out, he was able to see me with a minor delay, but I realized in thinking about it that I'd had a nine forty-five appointment Friday with the ocular neurologist and had read nine forty-five off the calendar for today, not seeing the clear and explicit nine fifteen written under the date. Not something I would have done in the past, but they're happening now and again in these last three or four years. Not often, but a function of not paying attention and, I assume, the product of advancing years.

You do go on about advancing years.

Interesting to watch. I suspect everyone does, keeps an eye on this and that, forgetting someone's name starting in say your mid-fifties and thinking “is this it, has it started?”. Maybe it has, maybe it hasn't, maybe you'll not remember your own name in another month. So you notice. And you watch. And for someone who finds it constitutionally impossible to arrive late I notice it when I don't.

Later still. I spent quite a bit of time futzing with the film scanner this afternoon before getting it to function. Something about the software settings. Not sure what. Still, by going back to the slides of the 1998 San Francisco Cinco de Mayo parade I was able to come up with enough pictures for another page on artandlife.

Not sure how I think about them, but I've decided they're OK. You don't get anything done if you don't at some point just stop all the crap and act (hup! hup!). Still, a long afternoon without taking a walk. I thought maybe a movie later, get my butt out of the house (and into a theater seat), but then I saw what was playing. Guitar, I think, for the rest of the day.