Thursday. Lights out early. Don't remember quite when, but early enough, awakening then at six-thirty and assume I'd gotten enough rest. Wasn't sure that was the case yesterday morning, but yesterday worked out fine, we'll hope for the best today heading out for breakfast at seven, the day (they're saying) going to be up in the high seventies and so didn't wear a sweater under the winter coat. Nice walk, the watering eyes giving us a break.

Had the oatmeal, toast, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast over the papers to then head across the street to document the four cent a gallon increase in the price of regular because I can't seem to break this never ending habit of keeping count. Keeping track of gas prices shouldn't make any sense for someone who doesn't drive. The fact a recent story in the papers suggested we'll see four dollars a gallon soon here in California doesn't cause the heart to beat faster, but take another picture I did.

There were people sitting out at a table near the pandorea flower with a dog close by and so took a picture from an odd angle trying not to come across as an idiot by interfering with their breakfast. Seems to have worked in that they didn't seem in anyway flustered.

On then taking more pictures, more over these last few days than I have in the past. Some sign of energy returning? Hard to say, but click away I did.

Nothing on the schedule, so maybe over to the lake with a proper lens on the camera to see what we can find. Haven't done that in a long time.

Later. Seventy-six yesterday, a high of seventy-nine degrees today. I did get outside very briefly after a nap - felt pretty good after that nap - but then almost immediately returned, having taken but one picture while checking progress on the apartment house - condominium construction site located up my block. No complaints, but odd to be sitting here in front of a fan when it's been cool to cold for so many recent days.

Another memory glitch. Received an email from an author who's been putting together a book about Dave Sheridan, an underground artist and friend I knew and worked with in the early seventies, saying the book was coming out next month and he'd be sending me a copy. OK. I'd forgotten I'd worked with him when he was putting it together and I had to look at the now two year old email correspondence to bring it back. What there was left in my memory to bring back. Hmm. Two years ago, yet I'd at least for this moment, completely forgotten it.

Evening. Looked at the attachments to the emails I mentioned and remembered I'd written two or three hundred words describing my time with Dave working on the Rip Off Review of Western Culture. OK, I remember it now in some detail. Be interesting to see what they used of it in the book.