To End This
Monday. Up with the alarm without fighting against it too hard on this foggy morning they say will again turn to sun. Feeling pretty good, taking a chance on the pork chop with country potatoes and eggs over easy entrée for breakfast that I've suspected in the past for ocular incidents. We'll see. It's now nine and I'm thinking of lying down for a bit to let the head clear. Clear of what? Well, we'll see.
Later. I did lie down, nothing going on there, took a bath instead and then headed out for the downtown on the bus if only to have a cup of coffee (cut half with water) and a bagel (toasted with butter) out in front of the bagel shop in the City Center before taking a picture or two of the now finished tree, deedle-dee-dee. Pretty exciting stuff for a Monday morning I'd say.
You've used that “exciting stuff” line way too many times now and you know it.
Well, yes. The tree (of course) is dark against the background light, so we've screwed trying to compensate for that, but a picture or two including the traditional photographer reflected in the ornament shot, it too way overdone along with the excitement stuff.
Let's not confuse Christmas tradition with overly abused writing.
A walk then back to the apartment getting in our exercise for the day. I don't consciously set out to walk versus taking the bus, but this particular time the idea stuck and so here we are in the early afternoon thinking of heading over to the morning café now that the sun has appeared. Except the idea hasn't made much of an impression yet and I still have some selling to do to push it through. It will, it's just a matter of persistence.
Later still. A walk to the morning café, didn't take long to finally decide and make it happen, a picture on the way along the lake, a turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich, ice cream and coffee out on the patio finding a spot out in the sun, more, I'm afraid, than I was really thinking of eating. I've been stuck at one-sixty now for weeks, but bumped up a couple of pounds on the scale, this morning, the result of that last supermarket run. No big deal, these things happen, up and down, up and down, an apple instead of ice cream once or twice should suffice, a diet Coke rather than a raspberry muffin.
Anyway, home to lie down, close the eyes and hug a pillow for forty-five minutes to allow the world to reassemble, up now to tune the guitar and prepare for the evening ahead.
A cat was outside this morning that started an unhappy lost in the forest cat's meowing, but stopped when I opened the balcony door to step out and see. This happened all of four or five times before I was smart enough to look up at the balcony above mine and see a very young cat looking back at me with a worried face through the gap at the balcony edge. Hmm. Am I really allergic to cats? Really?
What would have happened if I'd spotted one in trouble down below in the garden? Would I have gone down the stairs and taken it in? I suspect I would. Best it was a kitten up on the floor above, I'm sure the two young lady tenants are taking good care of it, but an interesting lesson. Close your eyes and ears, old man, be careful, it's a dangerous world out there, so best pay attention.
Danger lurking in the bushes.
Evening. I've not done anything with Twitter since its emergence, but signed up in the last couple of weeks to see what they were talking about, how it might work for an old duff who evidently has too much time on his hands, realizing after about two days how useful it is in pointing out news stories and such of interest. All you have to do is follow some of the writers you routinely read and they'll point you to things you may have missed.
Of course it limits you to views and opinions you already hold, a bit like only listening to Fox if you're, um, a member of Rupert's minions. I'm not willing to go as far as adding Fox to my list, but who on the other side might be more relevant? The Wall Street Journal? The Washington Post? Non-Keynesians both? Donald Trump? No, just kidding, not Donald Trump. Not in this life. Not while I'm still wheezing breathing.
Anyway, I guess we're on the Twitter train for the while, we'll see where it goes. Lots of tweets about Climate Change, civil liberties, the financial mess and..., well, photographs? No photographs! We'll go see if we can't fix that. All work and no play makes Jack, and the rest of that.
Nothing I can watch at six, such is life, we'll listen to the news and play the guitar. We're making progress on the guitar, albeit slowly. These are the holidays, remember, and slowly is better when going through the dips and turns and figgy pudding.
Now that really doesn't make any sense at all.
A good way, I'd say, to end this.