Saturday. Another decent night's sleep, although I didn't turn off the lights until just after ten, to awaken then at ten to six. Well, it was more complicated than that, but accurate from a sleep standpoint. Up on a sunny and not overly cool morning to decide to drive to breakfast, not sure why, no East Bay Times having been delivered by six-thirty when I left. Again, no big deal, read it when I get home.
The plain waffle with sliced bananas and strawberries, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast, the morning not amenable to anything fried. Fed the meter a dollar to give me the half hour after eight and ended up setting out for home by eight-fifteen. About right. I feed the meter more for peace of mind than any worries about meter maids.
Because they don't come by right after eight?
I'm just babbling. Sometimes they come, sometimes they don't, but I haven't heard anything about anyone getting a ticket in months. Bright sun driving home, a day, one way or another, to get outside.
Later. A walk to the lake and then on by the farmers market to end up at the ice cream shop to have two scoops in the waffle cup. Been a while since I've done that. A walk back home to complete a standard Saturday routine. At least there's a street festival tomorrow.
Evening. I'm not sure I want to read/watch/hear anything more about Comey/Trump/Whomever for the while. Too much news, less and less information. Or something like that. Maybe just burned out a little.
An interesting interview at eight this evening with Bill Moyers, recounting his history, his connection with Lyndon Johnson as a young journalist, the fires that drove him. We all look back and recap our own fires (or lack of them) and how it all fit or didn't fit together.
Are we slipping into babble here?
We are wandering a bit and ready for bed.