Time seems to whiz by for good reason. They discovered recently, through good sound scientific poking around, that we've essentially lived half our conscious memory lives by the age of twenty, if you measure life by your perception of the passage of time, memory time. At twenty they're saying the first half of what you perceive as how quickly time passes is reached, no forwarding, and middle of your memory life has arrived. The remaining sixty (if you're lucky) will seem to pass about as quickly as those first twenty. Experimental science doesn't seem to be about tougher plastics, faster cars or rockets to Mars anymore. Or was it ever? I thought I'd write it down for future reference in case I forget, but for reasons I realize I now can't remember. Here in Oakland.

Wednesday. Home early to start the long weekend, the city half empty, thoughts of walking down to my local sushi shop for California rolls and sake. A small salad for lunch so there's plenty of room for sushi. And sake. My sushi restaurant, I learned last week, has been sold, ownership passing at the beginning of December, Kenny and Julie's last day on the job after twelve years in business. This is going to save me a fortune. Sushi, good sushi, puts a pretty good dent in your pocket and I, sitting up here on my hill, thinking I could use a quick taste and some company, am an easy mark when someone suggests a walk down the hill.

And who makes these, um, suggestions?

I have no difficulty making such suggestions and find I'm an easy sell. “What say we walk down the way for some of those exotic California Rolls and cheap, hot, shoot straight into your brain sake, maybe some of that nice fried Calimari they serve in a bowl with a lemon wedge too?” Oh? Really? Let's go.