Saturday. Lights out early again after nine, then to sleep and to awaken at six. A long nights sleep and, come to think of it, a good night's sleep, to get up on this Christmas Eve on a sunny, cold, no active parking meters morning. So we, of course, drove to breakfast.
Chicken apple sausage along with scrambled eggs, country potatoes, fruit cup, coffee and toast for breakfast. We were at one-fifty on the scale this morning and so we can pretty much eat what we want. Our earlier comfort food bulge is behind us.
Most people do quite a bit of damage over dinner tomorrow.
We are not going to be tempted tomorrow. At least not at breakfast.
Later. Cold out there and so a walk all bundled up along the lake and then on to the farmers market where I had one of the waffle squares with whipped cream on top. Not sure that was the best choice for the morning, but hungry before heading on to the book store to buy a calendar for next year. Not much left in the way of choices, but a John Lennon memorial calendar that looked about right.
Back to the apartment, stopping by the café near the fitness center for a bagel with cream cheese and coffee. Between the waffle/whipped cream-bagel/cream cheese we are obviously playing with fire, but why? For what reason? A proper test of our ocular migraine susceptibility? No idea, but so far no sparkly things appearing in the dark, no dry mouth, just sitting here mouthing off.
I read Ta-Nehisi Coates piece My President Was Black “on the Meaning (and Unmaking) of Obama's White House” in this month's issue of The Atlantic. I've been impressed in listening to two or three recent television interviews with Coates where he talks about this piece, with his analysis of the Obama presidency from the perspective of a young writer who'd spent his last decade focused in thinking and writing about the American black experience. Impressed with his interviews and now even more so with the quality and images used in the writing itself. As good as any I've read.
Now listening to the Raiders game, feeling overly warm and so turning on the fan. Cold as cold while out walking, here now inside it's too warm? Hallucinating? Either way we'll stay with the fan.
Evening. Finished the football games, switching back and forth between the Raiders and the 49ers, both of them good games, both of them winning, but the Raiders losing their quarterback in the fourth quarter with a broken leg.
Nothing on television and so we'll spend the rest of the evening with what is now a reasonably clear head watching this and that on the tablet.