Monday. To bed before ten. I'd made an attempt to watch Silk last night on Public Television, but found it difficult to sympathize with or keep up with the accents. Way back when Ms. C would come over from London to stay for the summers I found I had the same trouble in understanding her for about two weeks until my mind shifted gears and I could hear her clearly. Did she change, did I change or did we both change? Thought it interesting at the time. Still do. I haven't given up on Silk, it's just, you know, a first go round.
Anyway, to bed before ten last night, awake at four to struggle for an hour before getting back to sleep, up then at seven feeling pretty good and heading out to breakfast. The plain waffle with sliced bananas and strawberries with the little dish of mixed fruit they give their regulars on the side and coffee. No need to take any chances. Certainly no need to take any chances in the future on a morning when there are photographs to find.
Anyway, overcast, cool, home now having posted feeling, as I've mentioned over and over, pretty good. We'll see if we need a nap in the next half hour, see if there isn't something we can do to con ourself into leaving the apartment to go to see/photograph/buy some miserable thing. Pull out the stops! Hup!
You've probably had enough coffee.
Later. A decent walk over to the lake taking the odd shot, a walk farther on then to the morning restaurant thinking in terms of a lemonade and a muffin of some kind, but turning right around at the last minute and walking back to the lake to sit for a bit. A morning amble would be a better description, in no hurry, letting the day go as it would.
A bus then downtown to get off at Latham Square, walk through Latham Square (without taking a picture) and on to the City Center where everything was closed. OK, on to Washington Street, maybe coffee and an almond biscotti at one of the cafés, but seeing the bus sitting idle on Washington ready to head back as I was passing and thus, at the last minute, deciding to come home.
Aimless, yes, but aimless can be a plus if it's relaxing (he said). Back to play with the pictures, color correct and replace yesterday's photographs (gotta watch that from here on out) and think, now that it's almost two, what to do? To the morning café again? I think not.
We'll see. I want to get in a good session on the guitar today, we've had a reasonably good week, see if we can't step up for tomorrow's lesson.
Evening. It's September and there is indeed a new series starting at six, another Scandinavian subtitled thing, this one a little different and more than a little depressing, but it's Scandinavian and you never know. Maybe it lightens up in the coming chapters, maybe it doesn't snow in Iceland.
At least it ended just as the Monday-Tuesday Korean soap began, finding that it's continuing to fly far off the tracks: double crosses, triple crosses, quad - well, you understand, fairy tale evil and stupidity mixed together in the heads and hearts of men.
I've seen one or two decent Korean movies, one or two decent drama series (if a bit marginal), but I admit most everything else has made me flee in terror. Which may be saying something good about the series themselves, I'm not sure my tastes have any correlation as to how other people may react.
Cranky old man syndrome? No cable? Nothing in the way of reality TV that's ever caught your attention?
Maybe just blather for the sake of blather. Start a thought and then, when you realize it's gone in an odd direction and needs to be started again, too lazy to make an effort. Good starts, but no middle or finish. Could be those morning waffles. Corn flower or something? Deadly after your sixth decade?
You've been ladling out a lot of bunk talk about food lately.