Saturday. To bed at a decent hour and up with the alarm at six-thirty, so again what we'll call a good night's rest. We hope is a good night's rest. A walk to breakfast and back, remembering to take a picture of the pandorea vine on the way out and crossing Grand to take a snapshot at the Farmers Market as they were setting it up. Home now to prepare to catch a bus at ten.
Later. I'd been wondering, as I was getting up this morning, if I'd be in the mood to head over to San Francisco later, but felt just fine when the hour arrived and so caught the bus and then the train and then another bus to Japantown, all of it fitting together seamlessly without so much as a twitch.
There were one or two people in costume on the 38 Geary bus heralding the event, the streets weren't cordoned off and the activities were taking place at the Peace Plaza and its main stage. And so pictures of young people (OK, mostly young women) in costume for something like an hour before bailing out for a dish of ice cream at a ice cream shop. So far, so good.
More pictures. I'd thought maybe I'd have lunch at the Korean restaurant as I have in the past, but the dish of ice cream was more than enough. Getting tired after what was approaching two hours of travel and shooting and so onto another bus, another train and another bus right home to the apartment. For some reason we got lucky and there was little or no time waiting on bus or train, which was good. Tired, as I mentioned.
So let's see. We have pictures to process, enough for two sections, maybe three.
Later still. Not so bad, not really all that tired in any physical sense from the S.F. trip, an afternoon of processing pictures and creating the necessary web pages. Oh, and a break or two to lie down and listen to the radio.
Evening. More pictures, my guess is two sections when I'm finished later tomorrow. One or two rather nice, the rest acceptable. I did watch a PBS program on earthquakes, they had a piece on the subduction fault that runs from Northern California to British Columbia just off the coast, a piece in the current New Yorker covering the same thing in more detail (you really don't want to be around when this one strikes) and then to bed. Day done, just like that.