Not This Evening
Thursday. To bed last night at a decent hour. Good. Up this morning with the alarm and off to breakfast, back now sitting here on an overcast morning, but no rain. Problematical, the weather people are saying, the possibility of rain and such, but so far, so good. The guitar lesson is coming up at noon and all seems well with the world. Hup.
Later. A walk before the lesson in the late morning over to the Grand Lake theater and then down and around to Lakeshore to have a bagel out in front of Noah's. A fairly cold overcast morning with nothing much to recommend it, but happy enough floating along in my old man's bubble with camera in hand. A decent walk, anyway, qualifying for a day's exercise, I'd say. Just, but just is enough.
A photograph of a palm in Splash Pad Park who's fronds look more dead than dying. The trunk itself looks alright. I wonder if there will be new fronds as the season progresses or this tree has reached its end and, if so, what has been done to kill it? Ah, well. How many times have I passed by this tree without noticing?
A drive over and now back from not a bad lesson. We finished up the current assignment, probably because my teacher realized dogging it any further had become hopeless, so on now to Neil Young's “Cinnamon Girl” and another set of blues riffs. They sound more impressive reading about them here on paper (screen) - “Cinnamon Girl” and blues riffs - than they are on the guitar. Just two short sections of the song, a chord change really, at the heart of it. We're getting there, but “there” is still off in the distance. But we're making progress. We are. All this damned practice.
Another walk down the way then for lunch, the sun breaking through the clouds and a nice cool bite to the breeze. For some reason I had a chicken, mashed potatoes and corn on the cob meal at KFC for the first time in many months. Sometimes it happens, although I couldn't finish it all. I'm thinking a run to the supermarket after breakfast tomorrow morning for something more wholesome that I might actually eat without bitching. I'm even thinking of assembling the makings for a salad. Which is a change in direction.
Evening. Another day, another evening. Some time on the guitar, the chord change sequence in “Cinnamon Girl” seems straightforward. The fingers move together along the frets in some order, the sound is often recognizable. A little strange, this progress, but I'm more than happy to see it happen.
Nothing on television, not quite yet time to go to bed, some thought about going down the hill for sushi and sake or just heading over to the supermarket for sake, but that would be dangerous as I'm getting together with Mr. E and Mr. S tomorrow evening for Guinness. If I've learned anything, I've learned alcohol two evenings in a row can easily work out badly. So we won't go. Not this evening.