Tag: observations

Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

A young middle-aged woman is at a table with a middle middle-aged man. That’s how they appear to be experienced but amateur eye. Both are attractive. She’s in light grey yoga pants and he’s in khaki hiking shorts. He’s tall, with graying curly hair, while her brunette hair sweeps away from her face and lightly lands on her shoulders. The two are so average white people of the Pacific Northwest. I notice them in the same way as I note others in the coffee shop.

But then, what makes her memorable, after they disposed of their coffee cups at the busing station, she methodically moves through the coffee shop, straightening up the chairs. He goes over and stands by the door, waiting for her to finish. She joins him and they depart, leaving the tidy tables and chairs behind.

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Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

Boys and girls in clean baseball uniforms come into the coffee shop and wait for drinks. Last names and numbers adorn the jerseys. The young players all wear their caps with its team insignia. Crocs, or Croc wannabes adorn their feet so they’re not wearing their cleats into the shop.

The parent situation varies. Sometimes a solitary adult accompanies the young athletes; less frequently, it’s a couple. I wonder about the family situation and whether about the significance of the adult situation.

None seem particularly happy. Phones are often studied, arms crossed, as they wait. But one father and the children talk, joke, and laugh.

All so different from my years of young ball playing. This is part of the new Americana, Starbucks, phones, and Crocs. I wonder how many times these scenes play out across the land on this Monday American holiday.

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75 Degrees F

Being here at Mom’s home and witnessing the thermostat follies fascinates me.

Back in my visit’s first few days, it was chilly, often rainy in the morning or at night. With the thermometer showing 75 F in the house, she and her partner would discuss ‘why it’s so cold’ in the house. I would be consulted but I was overly warm. I didn’t think it cold. My 89-year-old mother would put on a sweater but then ask for the temperature to be raised a few degrees.

It’s 77 degrees outside today, and in the house. Complaining about how hot the house is, she turned on the airconditioner and set it on 75 degrees.

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I’ve been writing. Now I pull my head out of the morass of story and look around.

The burst of activity which took over the coffee shop like a late spring storm has faded. Regulars have come in. Parked at tables as I’ve done, they pursue their personal agendas in a public forum.

One of them is a woman. I have no idea what she’s doing. I wonder, but, shrug. I try to give everyone the same privacy I seek.

Today, though, I see that her toenails are bright mango. They match her shirt.

I haven’t noticed these things before but now I’m thinking, did she select a shirt and paint her toenails to match it, as is this a coincidence?

Now, I know, I’ll need to see her again and make a note to look for her toenails. Yes, it seems weird to me, too.

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Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

Sitting in the coffee shop, I sometimes take a break to pay attention to the people waiting for their coffee. Some are jittery, constant movement. Like they’ve already ingested a significant amount of caffeine, buzzy as little kids on a sugar high.

Then we have the impatient customer. Frequently tapping a foot, normally with hands in pockets or arms crossed, they look like they’re sighing over the unfairness of having to wait so darn long for their drink. Many of these will turn to their cell for comfort, chatting, texting, reading stuff, watching videos.

Others waiting for coffee assume a cool Steve McQueen demeanor, leaning back with mild indifference. The coffee will come and nothing they do will hurry it, so why bother? It’s not surprising to see some of them casually check cell phones, oozing as they do.

Fourth are those with the coffee stare. Stiff as a bronze statue, usually with their arms crossed, they posture right up against the counter’s edge, eyes opened wide, unblinking, waiting for their order. As drinks are made, you can almost hear their neurons shouting, “Is that mine? Is that mine?”

Finally, we have the laissez coffee set. Ordering, they find a table or sit until their order is called out.

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thought

Been watching the Starbucks Grand Prix.

It’s a flat Mickey Mouse circuit. Enter from the main road. Then into the quick left right complex. Hard 90 follows. Accelerate up the short side straight.

Then a fast lefthand sweeper into to the end of the line. Creep up, order, and shoot back out into traffic.

Or, the less used option. wheel around and rush into a parking slot. Park, jump out. Fast walk to the door. Get inside and then —

Options: pick up order at the counter and hustle back out. Or order at the counter. Stand back, cross arms and wait, hip thrust out, staring as they prepare your order. Tap foot as needed.

Rare option: enter, order, sit. Pull out ‘puter. Do typy/clicky things.

Watch the Starbucks GP.

Rarest option: sit. Open book or newspaper. Read.

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Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

He believes he’s acting the way he is because of what she said, and she believes she’s acting as she is because of what he said.

And they’re both right. And wrong. Emotions, memories, and history distort and cloud memories and reactions. That’s a relationship.

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Monday’s Wandering Thought

I watched a young woman walking past the coffee shop. Wearing light-toned blue jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt, a dark blue ball cap let dark hair escape but was pulled low, like she was some manner of gunslinger from wild west days. It was her walk which struck me; her white shoes seemed to slap the concrete and she kept her head down, as though she had to concentrate like the Newman song, left foot, right foot, left foot, and so on.

That walk and style reminded me of someone I knew but no names came to mind. I’ve always been bad with names and faces.

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Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

They were a couple, with those socks. Skin-tight, displaying every angle and curve of their ankles and feet — they both wore sandals on this warmish winter day — his socks were as golden as a Trump Towers sign, while hers were hot pink. Though he wore loose trousers and she wore capris, both garmets displayed a good six inches of their interesting socks.

They raised some questions, they did.

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Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

It’s a first for me. Today’s coffee shop crew is all male. I’ve seen all-female crews several times. As I wrote, this is a first. Wondered if it was planned, a response to females noting that there’s often all-female crews, or just happenstance of the schedule. I suspect the last one.

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