Sauce For Dinner
Sunday. It's Sunday so I didn't set the alarm, waking up just after six but then going back to sleep and not getting up until seven-thirty. Tired, took my time coming up for air, but up, none the less, to then set out at ten-thirty for breakfast. Sunny, the place crowded, but my usual table free and so breakfast over the papers, keeping the papers to the Chronicle and the Tribune in deference to their need for table space and leaving the Times behind. They get crowded on later morning weekends.
Anyway, tired, otherwise feel OK. We can blame the tiredness on the sake last night, certainly some part of it. Doesn't really matter. I would have gotten up at the usual time if I hadn't it. Three is too many. Why I've settled on two over these last few years, I guess, although I'm obviously fighting it.
Again, a nice day, home now at noon, we'll get in a short nap and then think about what to do for the rest of the day as they're predicting a shut in day of rain tomorrow.
Later. An hour's nap, more time spent then on the web before heading out for a walk along the lake and on to Lakeshore where I had two scoops in a dish at the ice cream shop on the way to the ATM before heading back to the morning café for coffee. Still tired. I suspect more a function of slowing down as we get older, although I'm sure last night's sake had something to do with it.
Now sitting at the computer with the fan (turned on low), the balcony door open, wresting with thoughts of picking up the guitar. I've rescheduled my lesson to Wednesday so that I can photograph the St. Stupid's Day Parade on Tuesday in San Francisco, keeping my priorities straight. A lunch with Mr. M on Thursday, haven't seen him in a while.
The beat goes on.
The beat goes on.
Evening. Another lie down for about an hour to zone out. Hmm. We'll not babble on further, we'll just watch the sake in the evenings and the corned beef hash for breakfast. Like the corned beef hash with eggs over easy I had this morning for breakfast.
You do have a death wish.
Just my minor way of protesting the direction we're going in this aging human box.
Nothing on television that I can see unless I find I can watch the Wallendar episode that's playing at nine, so we'll continue on the guitar and otherwise get to bed early like a dutiful little soldier, but after we have spaghetti with red clam sauce for dinner.