Later. So, ten minutes to one. A walk down the usual way along the lake looping over around Lakeshore to walk halfway up the hill on Mandana, but turning left and walking back along a residential street I haven't walked along in a while. Pretty exciting stuff, you'd think, walking down along a neglected street.

I'd passed a quartet playing near the white columns by the lake, the guy laying out a rhythm line on that accordion that was really nice, his companions having no problem keeping pace. Interesting to see them playing, surprisingly nice to hear. Just to get out in the sun? No place to practice otherwise? Both? Probably, if it matters.

Feeling a bit funky, of course. The teeth seem to ache more than I remember from the past, I'm thinking of notching up the pain meds a bit. Again, most of the symptoms, with the exception of the aching teeth and palate, seemed to be more subdued as the day rolls on. Could be just an up, in a common not to worry “it comes, it goes” episode, but you hope the negative ups are short lived (and it slinks away into the bushes never to be seen again). You do, but you don't say it too loudly lest you tempt the Fates. As I just have.

Later still. For whatever reason, after a thirty minute stint on the guitar, I headed out again and hopped a bus downtown, even though I couldn't come up with a reason why I wanted to, feeling unambitious and tired. One of those get out of the house messages that don't allow you an answer. Just, you know, do it. What the hell, not the first time, not the most foolish thing it could demand.

A walk through the City Center finding nothing open but the hot dog stand - Top Dog, a very good hot dog stand - but hot dogs, even very good hot dogs, have fallen out of favor in the last two years, so a walk farther on without breaking stride to 12th, crossing behind the old APL building for the first time since this restaurant has opened. Faz. I won't say a word.

So what else? A picture crossing 11th, a walk on through Old Oakland to the Chinese Cultural Center to buy a small box of Japanese candies I've bought in the past (no hot dogs, but candy?), back to the bus to ride along beyond my stop and have a dish of ice cream and coffee at the morning café. Another one of those unspoken commands to stay on the bus no matter what and get something, no logical urge or reason in the world why I should, but of course I did, so I sat and had the ice cream and coffee before taking a bus home, riding instead of walking, head in a fog.

Evening. The Italian police procedural at six on Sundays with its broad slap stick overly broad cringe inducing humor was to be avoided but a halfway interesting Bill Moyers program followed by the first of of what is evidently three of the new Sherlock Holmes episodes kept me up late again this evening.

I'm up and down with this new Holmes, the young Sherlock brought into the Internet Age, but that's my problem. We watched this one, we'll undoubtedly watch the next. I must admit Holmes throwing the CIA agent out of the window was both somewhat refreshing and different. Not a very nice CIA man, of course, striking and frightening Mrs. Hudson as he did.

It ran until ten-thirty so we'll see how tomorrow morning goes at five forty-five when the alarm goes off. Plenty of guitar this evening, though. We're well on our way in making up for last week.