Things Remain The Same
Friday. Watched Mr. Holmes and Ms. Watson last night and so set off to bed after eleven, up this morning without effort just before the alarm was due to go off. OK. Breakfast and back on a somewhat overcast morning with the sun poking through from time to time. We've finished editing yesterday's entry and thinking maybe of running through today's guitar lesson before we set out. Hup.
Later. Ah, well, not so bad. We ran through the chord sequences for Taxman reasonably well, the trick being the transition between two sets of chords, there are only half a dozen or so chords in the entire song, the issue being getting those two difficult transitions struck cleanly and on the beat. On the beat. On the beating.
No complaints. There's a rush when you finally get them right, well worth the effort (and maybe some of the bitching).
Anyway, we'll gear up later this afternoon for the next assigned set of chords, master the rest of the finger picking exercise, do some hup, hups and complain about something else. Or take a walk. A hike. Better the walk.
Later still. Took the bus downtown to the 9th Street farmers market, skipping the City Center altogether, having a half sandwich (roast beef with Swiss) and a package of potato chips out at a table in front of Ratto's, interestingly unable to eat but three or four of the potato chips. Not often I have potato chips anymore, doesn't look all that bright for their future.
Still cold and overcast in the late morning, but wearing the goose down jacket under a light summer weight jacket did the trick, nothing to complain about. A walk then to a bus stop on Broadway and a ride straight home, no stopping at the convenience store for an ice cream cone. Or a small bottle of Jack Daniels. Not sure why I didn't stop for the whiskey, but there are hours yet left in the day to fix that.
Later still. A brief lie down to almost take a snooze, no wisps of ocular stuff, up to do the usual surfing and such on the computer, a walk down to the convenience store (finally) to pick up that small(est) bottle of Jack Daniels and a box of Good & Plenty, thinking licorice would make a good dinner. Sugar and whiskey for dinner.
A note on Facebook that my cousin Denny's wife had passed away. I haven't seen her now in years, as she hasn't been well enough to attend the family parties, but we've known one another for a long time and got along very well, a really nice lady, and so the news was unusually depressing. So we'll not fret over the couple of shots of whiskey we'll be having later this night.
Humans are rational creatures.
Evening. A Wallander at six, one of the new ones they ran for the first time last week. He's a Swedish detective, evidently a popular series based on a series of books and now a number of TV series featuring different lead actors, but let us say this particular iteration makes me unsympathetic in this particular case. Naturally I watched all two hours, allowing the Jack Daniels to work all its way through the system and wear off at the other end. Some guitar, so far, but not enough. Some things remain the same.