Silly you.

Silly me.

So to bed last night early and therefore up early by an hour this morning getting to breakfast early. Early, early. Feeling OK, though, better than last night. We'll not talk about last night, there was more than just cold feet. A run by the store after breakfast for milk and orange juice. I find I buy the four dollar for a half gallon carton instead of the two half gallon cartons for five dollars because the two for five tastes like crap. Oh well. And now we're home and ready for whatever after last night.

Thinking of art and life and such over breakfast I realize I'm no further along in my thoughts of what to do now that I'm retired. I haven't gone beyond looking online for a place to live because, well, if I buy I'm committed to living here and I'm not sure that's what I want. But I toddle in and out, day in and day out, without making a move to move, you understand, so is this indeed my fate? He knew he didn't want to commit to staying, but didn't show any motivation to moving? Betwixt and between? I was moving away when I came here forty years ago making a conscious decision to get out of New York and Seattle (family then living in New York, original home and then later attending college in Seattle) to come to San Francisco and look up two people I knew who, rumor had it, were into interesting things. Been here ever since.

Still, betwixt and between. I'm sitting here feeling, again, pretty good. I'm sure I'll get out the door and walk somewhere soon, somewhere I've walked before, but somewhere not without interest. I suspect things are happening I'd like to know about, things appropriate for old fart's participation, here in Oakland. Maybe in San Francisco too, who knows? Less likely up north, but when's the last time I've been wrong about that? I could find whatever it is with an effort. I would guess not much of an effort if my head were straight, eyes open and mouth shut.

Why not make that effort?

Well, I suspect that's what I've been doing. Not something you push. If I can keep the head functioning, even half functioning, something is going to result. I've obviously been preparing for something, practicing here, for example, but practicing for what? Photography? Writing? The web? Not by themselves, I would guess. What engages my interest? What to write about, photograph about, spout about? Who's doing things that strike a spark? Find them, start them; find a space, buy a place! (Ha!) We dribble into inanity I'm afraid, but inanity after a good breakfast with too much cholesterol and introspection in an empty restaurant in Oakland.

You don't seem all that concerned.

Probably not. You learn over time. Even old farts turn the corner eventually if their mind and body hold together long enough. I'm thinkin’.

Later. A trip downtown to have my reading glasses updated to a new prescription and pick up the inhaler. The glasses will be ready Tuesday and the inhaler Monday. The elusive inhaler. Three times now “it will be here tomorrow”. The head, however, was surprising. Yes, the sinus-upper palate ache was doing its thing, but modestly, modestly, and the chest was sore, but the head was, well, “clear”. I say “clear” in the sense I wasn't walking around in a bubble. The rest of the crap was still there, but the head or the brain or the noodle whatever wasn't hunkered down behind a wall, but connected directly to my surroundings in a way I've close to forgotten it's been so long. Something to do with the weather? It hasn't changed much, the weather, still warm, the sun doing its California sun thing. The Flonase? I will warm to the Flonase if that's the case, let me tell you. So we'll leave it at that, let sleeping dogs lie, don't test fate or tug on Superman's cape. And see.

So, I talk about connecting with something or starting something now that I've retired, getting my act together, and my head makes contact with the outside world. All this before noon on a weekend. Who would have thought? Or is that woulda thought? Woulda thought. Here in Oakland.