I also realized I missed commenting on the anniversary of this journal on the 28th, last Monday, the beginning of its sixteenth year. Also marks the beginning of the fourth year of taking guitar lessons, a similarly inexplicable demarcation. Such, evidently, is the nature of this odd adventure.

Still, we start the day and one hopes end the month well. Off to breakfast and back without incident to go over yesterday's entry before posting. A Halloween 2014 morning, another day on the way to when.

Later. A walk over to the lake because that seems to be what I do to get outside when I have no idea of where I want to go. OK. A picture or two. Coots and Lesser Scaups floating in the distance.

Walking back I realized a bus was scheduled to arrive soon, so I waited at the stop and then boarded to get off at Latham Square where I saw two people putting up two large posters in the facing building's windows. For some reason two of the pictures I took weren't on the memory card when I downloaded them later, not sure what happened, a first time for it or any of the other cameras. I've had occasional lens misfire troubles, but there's always been at least a blank image to tell the tale. Hmm. Something else to think about.

Anyway, what struck me was the use of “boiling” in the copy. The Lathams evidently boiled their parents pictures and memorabilia on the stove and then poured the resulting liquid into the memorial fountain when it was completed, this described in the first poster, but the sentence I read first was on the second poster beside it (to the right of the one in the photograph) and it talked about them “boiling their deaths on the stove”. Their deaths? On the stove?

So, on to the City Center for a buttered bagel and coffee out at a table before the bus home, the sun now relatively warm after a cool morning. Just wish I had the gumption to set out and explore someplace located more than a mile from the front door later.

That can get very boring, you know.

My lack of ambition? If I were a proper slagger I'd wear it like a badge (instead of the camera).

Later still. I'm hungry but can't think of anything I would eat and so - what else? - a walk over to the lake (again) to take pictures. Nice weather, it got up into the low to mid-seventies, so a t-shirt and a light jacket. People out and about.

Evening. Ah, it seems the channel that's been running (and rerunning and rerunning) the foreign detective programs is running its last one this evening and going over to France 24 news as there's a banner running under their image saying so. I suspected the endless repeats probably had to do with money and, I suspect, this is the result.

This evening, however, they end with what I assume are the last two episodes of last week's French program about a small group of “gone over to the other side” detectives who are now caught in a spiral leading them straight down the drain. I think. We'll know soon.

Guitar too, of course. We were good yesterday, good Tuesday, best to be good today and not let the lesson sneak up and find us unprepared. (Sermon to Self.)

Oh, right. Thursday night. Another Elementary at ten. Late. Will I stay up when there's nothing on television to keep me up at nine? Is the Pope Catholic? Do bears...?