Mr. M picked me up at five-thirty yesterday afternoon and we drove over to Mill Valley. How long has it been since I've been to Mill Valley? Brought back memories of people and the place, many of them sad as more than one of those people I remembered are now dead. But I suspect that's not unusual.

A quick chicken salad at a nearby burger place (Mill Valley has upscale burger shops) and on to the theater, the show turning out to be a fund raiser for a movie now in post production titled 3 Still Standing, a documentary of three San Francisco stand up comedians’ who began their careers in the 80's: Will Durst, Larry “Bubbles” Brown and Johnny Steele. Durst I was familiar with. Brown and Steele I didn't know.

This is not what I'd been expecting, snippets of the movie interspersed with stand-up routines by the three principals, quite a good show, many in the audience friends of the performers and production crew. Not a large audience in not a large 100 year old theater (in which we were told Charlie Chaplin had performed early on before a live audience), this evening's audience seated at small tables in comfortable chairs. An more than interesting evening about nostalgia for a period a decade later than my own introductory ten years in San Francisco.

Anyway, home by eleven-thirty (I seem to recall), a good evening, to bed right away and to sleep somewhat later, to get up and start the morning. The day. The weekend. We'll see.

Later. A walk over to the construction site to see if I could peek through whatever openings in the fence I could find and determine how far along they'd managed to come yesterday afternoon. A photograph or two to show they'd pretty much finished leveling the area with the last of the remaining dirt now gone. So good. I guess. Another phase starting Monday.

Over to the lake then, since I had a long lens on the camera and a picture or two as I walked toward the white column pergola, Hank out padding about just inside the boom near the fountain.

Back to the apartment to process the half dozen or so photographs and then take a bath, ending with an hour in bed to see if I might get to sleep. Still a little foggy after getting up, the sinuses acting badly, but the mood better at noon and now thinking of walking over through the farmers market to, well, somewhere to sit and eat something like ice cream? I could. A pound over one fifty-five this morning, just one pound over the one fifty-five pound target, so we could easily contemplate some ice cream. Why I'm even babbling on about this - can, can't - I don't know.

Later still. A walk over to the lake with a wider angle zoom lens on the camera this time to head on then through the farmers market to the ice cream shop, two scoops with a chocolate sprinkle topping, caution to the wind. No excuses required.

Back passing by another lone Black-crested Night Heron on the roof at the drive-in along Lakeside that connects Lakeshore and Grand (which means nothing to anyone who isn't familiar with the area) where I'd recently seen six. No way I could pass without a picture. Made no difference to him. Or her.

Another crack at another nap. Sinuses again. I'd gotten a call from the doctor's office late Friday while in the car on the way to Mill Valley and they suggested I skip today's dose of the blood thinner meds. Which I did. But doubled up on the sinus pain meds to see if they wouldn't help with the nap. Which they did. I think.

For some reason chipotle peanuts came to mind for dinner, skip repeating the spaghetti, and so a walk (by the construction site) to the local 7-11 look-alike to buy a package. The only difference I can see with “chipotle” versus regular peanuts is they're dusted with some kind of chili powder mix that makes them not so much hot, although they are, um, warm, but more in being a bit nasty and so slow you down and you don't eat them so quickly. Why that makes a difference I don't know, but it seems the reason I buy them.

In paying for the peanuts I wanted to unload some change, particularly a number of pennies, and so calculated how many I needed to make the purchase. This is something I can usually do in my sleep, been able to do it since I was six, but fumbled this time. Hmm. It gives me a head's up on how conscious or scrambled or whatever it is I am at that moment. Sinuses? Pollen? Senior slip? All tied together in a bow? Probably. I don't seem to mind this solitary existence, but it doesn't allow a less biased opinion from someone who's observed these various little stumbles and pratts up close.

Evening. Nothing on television. I checked the German detective episode Marie's Mind For Murder starting at nine and found it impossible to watch within the first three minutes. Crankiness has its uses when it can get you to bed before ten. I owe Marie (and its writers) thanks for that.

I watched most of Kill Bill, Vol. 1 on Netflix for some reason. Been a while since I've seen it (I have a copy on DVD). Dear Quentin. Makes movies with all the elements I find silly and unwatchable, but with a genius of some kind that makes them all work. Cartoonish movies/scenes/dialogue that can suck you in. Or something like that. Another bout of psychoanalysis through your choice in entertainment. Still, I got lots of time in on the guitar as I was sitting there watching, another good day added, nothing but good can be said about that.