This Night's Sleep
Saturday. Up with the alarm without too much effort, off to breakfast and back on an overcast and cool morning thinking of taking in the Lafayette Art & Wine Festival later this afternoon.
I was thinking I'd photographed it before and, in looking for pictures, discovered a series of journal entries where I'd labeled my pandorea blossoms “pergola” blossoms, a confusion of two terms I'd just then learned for the first time, one a flower, the other an overhead shaded garden structure. Seems my lapses aren't of recent origin.
Well, so what? The product of a life lived without a competent editor.
Your face is red.
I'm trying to hide it.
Later. Mid-morning and it's raining. I guess we're looking at the Art & Wine Festival tomorrow, assuming it's isn't raining tomorrow. I have taken pictures at it in the past, but in 2011 rather than what I was assuming was 2012 and they were of Mr. S's band Pladdohg performing on one of the stages. Still, lots of people, easy to get to, we'll give it a try if the head, attitude and sky remain above water.
Later still. The rain stopped after one and so a walk to pick up (another) steak sandwich at the nearby burger drive-in. They're saying partly cloudy tomorrow with no chance of rain, so we'll see. Same old aching sinuses (that operation was not the best move I've ever made), but otherwise in decent humor, although I'm having trouble figuring out what to do on a rainy afternoon. Not the best difficulty to be having with fall and more days like this one starting tomorrow.
A very short walk over to the lake under some sun. Almost no birds to be seen and whatever was flushed out of the underground streams that feed into the lake contained by the boom around the fountain. The fellow with the gold painted bike was finishing it up along with his elaborate string of trailers.
I've passed him by in the past and once found one of his painted trailers discarded at a bus stop and so I'm assuming he's always adding new ones, have no idea how he's managing his balance between craft and crazy.
As long as he doesn't get into gold plated guns.
Evening approaching without having done any of the simple things I was considering earlier. Play something on the stereo? Anything? Something from the past, way back in the opera period? The rock period? The Gershwin period? Close, but no cigar.
Ah, well. They're saying clear skies for this coming week, we'll continue to deal with being cooped up inside an apartment come another storm.
Evening. Arne Dahl, the Swedish detective series that plays on Saturdays at six, about a group of somewhat oddball detectives harboring an unusually long list of personal issues (OK, I understand, it's a drama), turned out to keep my interest. Part 1 this week, part 2 next week. I'm sure I'll have unraveled some of the subplots (what was it that one detective's son was mixed up with again?) by the time part 2 finishes next week.
In looking at last Saturday's entry I see there was nothing on television after it, a movie at eight I didn't want to watch, same with the movie this evening, Fiddler On The Roof. Saw it back when, don't need to see it again.
So I guess we put away the guitar and go to bed. Try to duck out on loading Netflix on the tablet and end the evening screwing up this night's sleep.