You Get Older
Monday. Pamie put me straight on the fact she wrote the Samantha Who? episode playing at 9:30 this evening on ABC television so I went back to check her journal and sure enough, she'd included the date (IN BIG BLACK LETTERS), November 19, which explained why the plot of last week's show didn't quite jibe with her own description. Such is life. Please take a look, if you've read Pamie over the years you can hear her in the dialogue, not that Pamie is as bat shit crazy as her character. Certainly not. Nobody could be that bat shit crazy, not even in Los Angeles.
You sure?
Sure, not sure, doesn't make any difference.
A pretty good day, so far: a haircut this morning, breakfast in the downtown City Center reading the paper, lunch later at the usual café, some very light rain during the morning, the sun poking out as I write, the head in pretty good shape once the eyes came into focus around nine and I'd dropped some of the medicines the medicos have provided. Or does that sound over the top? It is and it isn't, life gets fuzzy as you get older.
Later. Oh, dear. I've been lusting after a lens for over a year now that was obviously introduced by Nikon with marks like me in mind. This evening, after flasks of sake, I ordered it. No complaints, no regrets, but it's a 200mm f 2.0 lens and it definitely falls under the category of idiocy.
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