How It's Aged
Saturday. Another interesting (I guess interesting) night's sleep in that I found myself awakening more times than I like to think, yet awoke then at quarter after six to get up feeling clear headed, not tired and ready to walk to breakfast in good humor, the sky overcast, the temperature good in a long sleeve shirt and light summer jacket.
They're running a San Francisco Bay to Breakers this morning. The race itself starts at six and, other than attending once (I believe once) well over a decade ago, arriving back then at nine, I haven't attempted to photograph it since, the excuse being there isn't a train leaving Oakland until after eight, two hours after it starts. Whatever the reason, I more than suspect a younger me would have made the trip, leaving at eight in the morning for a six o'clock race. Why not?
Later. A walk over to the lake along the shore to the pergola and fountain, heading on to the farmers market. Crowded, the market, deciding to not walk on to Lakeshore and the ice cream shop (it keeps coming up, ice cream, does it not?), but turned back to the café near the fitness center instead, sticking my head in to see a long line waiting to order and all the tables filled. Home then.
Hungry and maybe somewhat stir crazy after sitting about the apartment for a while, decided to take the bus downtown and get a chicken Caesar salad at the City Center bagel shop and then a bus to the 7-11 look-alike for an ice cream bar, eating it as I walked home, putting to rest the idea of ice cream out of our head for the while.
Later afternoon now, maybe something on television.
Later still. Another last minute realization there was a last season's episode of Elementary playing at five. The head is still in something of a bubble, but not so much so that we need to worry about it. The daily bubble, not the over the top bubble. Maybe another dose of the pain meds just to see if they make a difference? You can have a decent lunch downtown in a bubble, walk by the lake, take pictures, just not as many pictures as you might have taken in a no bubble past.
What was that about?
Just sort of noticing the day. Not a bad day, the temperature decent, more sun than clouds. No complaints.
Evening. Two Cary Grant movies on the local PBS channel this evening, The Philadelphia Story and His Girl Friday, both of which I (of course) first watched many years ago. I've always very much liked His Girl Friday, maybe because I sometimes wonder how things might have gone if I'd taken my college degree in journalism and become a reporter, something I'd almost done back then. The Philadelphia Story was of lesser interest, but still a movie I'd liked when I'd first seen it at that younger age. Neither of them held any interest this evening, although I watched the beginning of The Philadelphia Story to remind myself before bailing for bed.
I'm not sure why my interest in some if not all of those well liked older movies has so frayed over the years. Like reading a book for a second time? Within the next year? Within in next decade? Changes in the culture, the clever story line treatments of the past now a pale shadow of what's considered clever and popular now? Surprising and clever then, not so surprising and not so clever now?
His Girl Friday is based on the Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur 1928 play, The Front Page. Billy Wilder made another movie based on the play and titled The Front Page in 1974 that starred Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau. Enjoyed them too. Maybe for the best I'd gone to bed by the time His Girl Friday started at nine-thirty, best not to have seen how it's aged, how I've aged in the intervening years.