An Orchestra Seat
Tuesday. To bed at eleven last night. Not sure why. I keep talking about getting to bed earlier and then I'm derailed by a task on one of the computers, a television program I've seen before, some other thing of momentous import, so momentous I can't remember quite what it was. Still, up a couple of minutes before the alarm, to breakfast and back now before eight, gas prices increasing another two cents since Sunday, the day and a haircut appointment ahead. Haircuts I can handle. Just down the way in the City Center. A manageable project. Overcast, but they're saying sun.
Later. A bus ride downtown getting off at the transit office to pick up this month's bus ticket, a walk then to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription before crossing the street to get the haircut. So far, so good. A walk back to the apartment thinking maybe I'd see how the Water Writes mural was going. They're making more progress, although the camera and lens combination I'd brought wasn't the best for documenting it. Such is life.
A bit of an ocular migraine began while I was walking, I'm afraid. None of the double vision, but some visual distortion and fuzzy headed distraction along with a dry mouth, although it seems to be clearing up without getting particularly serious. Reminds me I'm in new territory though, not something I had to think about one way or another until these things introduced themselves. They're happening less often, but I'd really like to see them gone. I want to say a function of growing older, but I there's no real correlation there that I'm aware of. Still, still....
Later again. Not super often, but often enough these days, I've been prone to typo's. The phrase I used above “thinking I'd see how the Water Write...” came out “now” instead of “how”. This particular error has started happening in just this last year, not something I've done in the past, not something to worry about, I suppose, but it is a sign of something. It's happening slowly, but a little sign post, a little flag waving in this aging process. Not to worry, but something to note in passing. (hup! hup!) I hope.
Better now that it's afternoon, whatever signs of an ocular migraine coming on gone after a short lie down listening (again) to the radio, up thinking sushi for lunch. You avoid one trap and another pops up. Don't want to spend the money on a sushi lunch, don't want to drink any sake this early in the day. Maybe a run to the supermarket, pick something up for later, run this thing into the ground.
Later still. Listening to the news, playing the guitar. I'm better with the chords, but there are degrees of better. The fingering is better and the speed getting from one to another is better, but I'm not sure they sound like much. Too many hours listening to recordings of real guitar players, I guess, but we're encouraged and we'll keep it up. (hup, hup)
I've noticed a small increase in my appetite, in my willingness to eat certain foods I once ate with enthusiasm, but have avoided since they stitched up my hiatal hernia two years ago in March. Slowly. It also means I've started watching the scale more closely in the mornings. The rule is under one hundred and sixty pounds. An ounce under, fine. A pound under fine. Five pounds under fine. Just not one ounce over. In the last two months I've gone over a couple of times, caught it and walked it back.
No “real” effort in this so far, but I noticed some self portraits I'd taken three years ago in Portland on the laptop this morning. Ouch. Roly-poly with a slack jawed expression that reminded me of a burned out glass utility fuse. That was I? Roly-poly I? Gets your head right back on the manage your weight track, let me tell you.
Oh, dear. I just got an email saying the remnants of Buffalo Springfield will be playing the Fox theater the first of June. I did/do like Buffalo Springfield, even at the price. So I have an orchestra seat. So much for the budget.