Up two minutes before the alarm on an overcast but soon to be sunny morning. To breakfast and back at the usual place, home well before eight to work on the photographs from last night and post yesterday's entry. Which, as all the entries seem to now, required more work. At least I can't blame that on ocular anythings, I suspect it's just part of the normal aging process. I'm no longer surprised when some youngster (a woman, say, in her mid-fifties) offers me her seat on the bus. I thought to take one's name last night and report her to the Thought Police, but realized it was hopeless.

Is that true?

Happened last evening heading downtown. I smiled nicely, waving her off, seeing an available seat toward the back. I'm not doddering yet. I don't think. Looking at last night's group picture, though....

Later. A decent walk, I think, heading out along the lake, then around over to the ATM on Lakeshore, heading back around through the farmer's market to the morning café for a lemonade and a grilled cheese sandwich: the sun bright, the temperature more t-shirt weather than shirt sleeve weather. But, as said, a good walk on a good day (in May).

They were having a “Peace” festival at the pergola (there's that word again) and I took a few pictures. Heading home from there along the lake, I ran across the first ducklings of the season, the mother duck swimming over toward me knowing people who come close to the edge often toss bread into the water (that was my take, anyway - disappointing, I suspect, to find I was but a photographer). Ducklings have a hard time of it I'm told with so many predators around, something I didn't want to think about.

Anyway, a good walk, more than a couple of decent pictures (in addition to the reliably popular “cute” duckling pictures), back to the apartment to run them through Photoshop. There are always pluses and minuses with Photoshop, my sense of what's best tends to change with time and I suspect I've made many of them look worse than they should. But such is life (and photographic license).

Evening. I watched the Sunday night Scandinavian soap at six (Beck) while playing along on the guitar (a pretty good day for guitar), watched a good portion of George Clooney's movie The American which, as far as I'm into it now, I'm finding depressing - I like Clooney, just don't much like the depressing story line - and then, now that it's close to ten, I'm heading for bed. Pretty exciting stuff for a Saturday night, here in Oakland.

You've worked your “exciting stuff” schtick pretty much to death by now, I'd think.

Still works for me.