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March 28, 2012

Had My Share
Wednesday. I watched the six o'clock Maigret when it played at nine last night, the search for images and making backups extending well into the evening and getting in the way when it was first shown in its time slot at six. I seem to watch the Maigret chapters when they play, but I sometimes have little conversations as to why, yes I do.

Anyway, to bed late, up this morning an hour late, off to breakfast and back, the sky overcast but promising. I'm feeling a bit punk as I'm writing and thinking a nap may well be in order. Naps I've found take care of many things better than drugs in this world of the retired.

Later. An hour or so's nap resulting in close to an hour of real sleep. The dry mouth and little sparkly patch when you close your eyes, normally portending an ocular migraine, went away when the head hit the pillow, no symptoms coming back to haunt. Perhaps those damned things are indeed trailing off, pooping out, exiting not with a bang but a whimper. Either way, trite or unique, bang or whimper, is fine with me.

The overcast starting to give way to sun, I set out to walk along the lake on the way to the ATM. With the rain the lake was an unwholesome muddy looking brown, but the birds were in place (not so many birds lately, have they been heading north?) and people doing what people tend to do around here at the white columns. I was wondering how long it had taken him to get his skill along this far, if some of the “aha!” moments weren't a bit like learning to play the guitar? Tight rope walking, though. Not something my contemporaries were up to back when.

He's old enough to be your age in the late sixties and early seventies. You didn't know any tight rope walkers back then?

Ah, right. The Pickle Family Circus people who lived on Potrero Hill. I'd forgotten. Still, I don't remember them practicing in the parks.

Hitting the ATM I then walked over the hill (instead of going around the hill on the flat by the theater) to have lunch at the usual place, the patio empty but for two or three tables, the day still looking good. A walk then back to the apartment, stopping to sit for a while by the white columns again, taking a picture or two and home now in the early afternoon. Some guitar pretty soon, I think. I almost have the new blues riff memorized and down, today should be the day I say it's done. A practice session tomorrow morning and then my lesson at noon. This is looking a bit better than some.

Evening. More moving of files to get my backups in order. Wincing when looking at some of the old ones. They do seem to get better over time, at least the percentage increases, but still, but still, some of it makes me wince and wonder. Wonder and wince. Am I really sure I want to back these up? Hup?

Otherwise a little guitar (too little guitar), some television and more time going through the old CD's to find an image I shot with a Coolpix 900, the first digital camera I ever owned. I haven't found it. I've found a cropped jpeg taken from the image, but not the original. It's around here somewhere, probably on a CD that I cleverly tucked away for safe keeping, but where?

More old man and his deteriorating brain?

No, just some garden variety stupidity. I've always had my share.

This one was taken at Sunday's Oakland Marathon along Lake Merritt with a Nikon D3s mounted with a 70-200mm f 2.8 Nikkor VR II lens.