Saturday. The Italian police soap at nine didn't end until after ten-thirty last night, so to bed late, but up with the alarm on a bright and sunny morning. Off to breakfast and back with a good head, albeit at bit tired. So it's time for an early morning nap before the day gets up and started. This is good, my feeling that the odd outing at Jack London last night was but a blip on the radar screen seems to be holding, we'll see a little later how this day unfolds.
Later. A nap for maybe another hour, up to think about this and that as the head and body came back together, off then to the morning café for ice cream and a lemonade via the Grand Lake farmers market. Back to sit by the white columned pergola to take a picture or two, passing the photographer and his model whom I'd almost literally bumped into turning a corner while heading out. Odd to be doing a session in the middle of so many people, but maybe they like a certain additional drama in their outings. A more interesting question when you're shooting nudes.
So back now feeling OK, we'll think about another nap in a few minutes. Pictures? I don't know. Getting to the Filmore Jazz Festival requires taking BART and then a bus. BART alone I'd do, maybe, but out to the avenues on a bus I haven't taken before? How about the Hayward Blues Festival? That would in some ways be easier, I could get the car washed in Berkeley on the way.
You don't believe any of that.
Let's get in that nap, see what the rest of the day really may have in store. I suspect I need to get on the road, the coming Seattle trip this month is happening at the right moment, get me out and away from my lamenting and lamentable cut into stone routine around here.
Evening. Another nap, a bit of this and that, probably from the combination of cheese, pepperoni and alcohol last night. Just the very hint at a start of one of the ocular migraines, in what I was describing as “this and that”, so I suspect, they being on the to be avoided list, I should have found a way to find something other than pizza last night. No loss, I'm not much into pizza anymore, although pepperoni and mozzarella, particularly when I lived in New York, were on the short list of mankind's amazing achievements, right up there with air conditioning and the pill.
Still, the evening has gone well, the head clear. I'm realizing they've started rerunning the various police procedurals scheduled at six (and repeating at nine), the Beck chapter this evening was from the beginning of the series they'd just finished. It continues to be interesting that I would recognize the beginning, the first scene at the beginning, but few of the scenes following and have no idea who'd done it before the one who'd done it jumped in at the end. So much for Beck and probably the one or two others that still remain.
Maybe a short walk, now, down by the lake. Still light, I'm somewhat hungry, but no pizza on the list. It's become a short list.