Here In Dingle Dell
Saturday. Interesting, last night. Clear headed by the time I went to bed, up this morning with the alarm, off to breakfast and back on another overcast but not looking like rain morning. I don't think we'll get any rain, but we're, you know, on the edge. It's just we've had mornings like this in the past where the sun has finally come out in the late mornings, early afternoons and we've become accustomed to the sequence. Today there's a blues and beer festival in Hayward later, so we'll see.
Blues and beer?
Beer in an analytical “try this, try that” way is big now from what little I can see with a younger crowd. No beer this afternoon for me. Not after last night. Blues I can handle even if I'm not yet ready to pick up my guitar and play.
Of course pictures. Why else would I go in all this snow?
Later. A hour's nap. A real nap (as in actually falling asleep) feeling good as I dropped off, feeling good as I awoke. So far, so good. We are paying closer attention after yesterday's adventure.
So I followed the instructions to the Hayward beer and blues gathering and, getting off BART, I asked one of the vendors selling cold drinks and such by the station if he'd heard of it. Well, he hadn't, but they often blocked off B Street located a block beyond the City Hall and, since this jibed with what I'd read, to B Street I tread and, indeed, there was a block long bunch of people buying and selling vegetables and such under colorful tents. Except it was their weekly farmers market.
So I had a cup of coffee at a nearby Peet's to contemplate my next move, getting up finally to walk along looking for an advertising poster in one of the shop windows. The Peet's person serving me my coffee had said she'd heard of something like it, but she and her coworker thought they'd given the last one some weeks before, but there was indeed a poster I found just a half block down that located it in a parking lot off Foothill Boulevard rather than on B Street as stated on the Facebook page, all this coming together at one. In the afternoon. Except, when I was close enough to read the sign, it said it started at two. Doodle-dee-do.
What the hell, I haven't been to Hayward for a while and even then not during the day, my last venture there in the evening attending one of Mr. S's Pladdohg gigs, and the walk did me good. So no need to fret. Yet. Walks are good. Yes.
A BART train arrived within a couple of minutes when I got back to the Hayward station (I was pleasantly pleased, having waited fifteen minutes for the train in Oakland) and I arrived here at the apartment by two. (Also, doodle-dee-do.)
The newly washed pair of jeans I'd put on heading out is now in the laundry basket, having managed to spill coffee on the right leg at the Hayward Peet's (where's all this spilled coffee stuff coming from?) and I'm thinking of heading over to the morning café for lunch. I'd taken the bus to the 12th Street BART station this morning, instead of the closer 19th Station, so I could take pictures of a new chalk mural that had been done on Friday - nicely done, good for them - and so we've had some adventures to balance the too few pictures taken today. The Oakland Pride Street Festival tomorrow, just down the way, I suspect I'll find it with fewer problems.
Later still. A BLT, green tea ice cream and a lemonade outside at a table, managing to spill juice from the BLT on my pants and t-shirt. OK. No way to fight it, we are on some kind of self destructive roll. Just go back to the apartment and drop everything in the washer, quickly run two light loads, life will not end for doing the laundry earlier than a sane man might. They're dry now, all the pants, t-shirts and socks are clean again. The shorts will go into the all white wash in the next week or so, no need to be too radical with this long weekend ahead.
Another microwaved rice, mushroom, string bean dish for dinner, we'll see if it had anything to do with yesterday's ocular adventure. I suspect not, although MSG is on the list of things to avoid. Not that I know if there's MSG used in its making. I wouldn't want to place any bets (without reading the ingredients on the package).
You didn't look at the package?
One of the many things in this life I'll have to admit to not having done, come the pearly gates and the golden setting sun.
Come the scent of sulfur and the red smoke.
Evening. To bed early, this evening. A slight hint of a hint that something might be coming after eating that rice-mushroom-string bean thing this evening, making me wonder if it were a culprit, but it passed before it even thought of starting, so the day has gone well. Here in Dingle Dell.