Not Long Enough
Tuesday. A little slow awakening this morning with the alarm, the head clearing after about fifteen minutes, heading out to breakfast and back those delayed fifteen minutes after eight. What the hell, fed some of the accumulating pocket change into the meter to compensate. Fear of meter maids, I guess. Tickets anyway. Still, a break in the routine. Excitement right here in early morning Oakland.
Stop this right now!
OK, OK. The day is sunny, a good day to head over to San Francisco and have lunch with Ms. R and Mr. L, catch up on how the real world lives. Well, how their version of this fantasy world we live in gets along. You can split an unlimited number of hairs with such thoughts, but all it really means is we all put together our own little refuges to protect us from the storm. Thinking about the storm. The Japanese are having big trouble with storms right now and I fully understand the need for insulation, so we're not complaining, just spending too much time contemplating our navel and babbling on here.
Stop this twice!
I did futz with one or two pictures I hadn't put up in one of the Cherry Blossom Festival sections on artandlife yesterday. Sometimes you need to open an image and look at it closer at full size, crop it a bit, bring up the dark shadows to see what's really what. Usually there's one or two that are OK but didn't make it through the first round. Not sure what I'll do with them other than post them here. Dear oh dear.
At least the attitude seems good.
Later. An easy trip over to San Francisco on BART meeting Ms. R and Mr. L at Schroeder's on Front Street. An easy walk from the Embarcadero BART station two blocks from the building where I started my first San Francisco job. Oh, and it's across the street from Harrington's, a watering place I know better than most.
Good to see them both, Mr. L one of my managers at APL, Ms. R a member of our team. We exchanged word on where many of the people we worked with are now, who's working for whom, who's still looking, how long you have to work to qualify for unemployment should the axe come down again. What, I suspect, is a not unusual conversation in the employment world anymore.
Back now, having walked to the apartment from the BART station downtown, the back a little sore (needs the exercise I guess, nothing but normal), the news droning in the background. A little more time, a little more rest and we'll pick up the guitar and attack the various assigned strumming patterns with the chords I've learned so far. Many strumming patterns, many chords, although I seem to know them now by heart.
The trick is getting from one to the other on the beat. A trick that I'd guess needs about a year of practice to get down. One note to the next you can navigate, it just takes time and repetition. One chord to the next requires the same, but more of the same: two, three, four fingers getting to their places quickly, smoothly, on the beat. On the beat. Time on guitar. It counts.
Later still. A good hour's nap after but ten or so minutes with the guitar. We'll take another crack at it later. The guitar, not the nap. I think we'll go to bed early this evening. For whatever reason - the Jack Daniels last night? - no matter how long I may have slept it was not long enough.