See The Beaches
Monday. Let's see, the $2.99 Chardonnay has morphed into a Merlot. The News Hour is on in the background. It seems the markets continue to fizzle in my absence. Absence, presence, they fall without my opinion. Maybe if I had a cell phone. Maybe they're not looking for financial punsters, er, pundits under "Sole Proprietors" in the dial a pundit section of the News Reporter's Bible.
Tuesday. I should have paid attention last night at the "morphed into Merlot" comment. You will notice the fuzzy quality of the "opinion" sentence. You should have read what followed. The last thing I recall was watching The Royal Tannenbaums on DVD upstairs with the family. It was difficult to follow. I drank the bottle of what and then drank the bottle of what?
This means I'm heading back tomorrow, probably early, probably straight through to Oakland, although the thought of arriving during the commute, even if it's going against the commute, is not wonderful. I have a doctor's appointment Friday and a blood test that needs to be drawn by end of day Thursday and I think I'd better show up. Hi, ho. It's hotter than hell, but the car is air conditioned and, well, maybe I'd enjoy staying in Dunsmuir just over the California border for the night, take two days to drive, shoot another roll of film. I have not been shooting a lot of film. I'm drifting. That, I recall, is part of what I'm looking for here on this vacation.
I'll dig out the Oregon map and see what the road looks like to the coast. If I get in early enough Thursday, I can make my appointments and still see the beaches. They're a chancy thing, right now, these beaches.
Photograph of my Cousin Bruce's daughter Rebecca, boat skipper, photographer and soon to be first time mother. The guy up top, one of the younger cousins, well (snigger, snigger), he's about to become a grandfather.