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Breakfast at Tiffany's Sister's

pirateguillermo and I had our usual Wednesday breakfast at our usual place. It's a beautiful little restaurant in downtown Campbell that is crowded with with the cognoscenti of Campbell (please note the irony almost too heavy for those words to bear) and a lot of contractors early in the morning. The food is very yummy, plentiful and cheap. The owner normally waits on us in the mornings, and she's personable and efficient.

When we go out to breakfast, we're away from home and we start talking like people who are dating, rather than people who are married. We make silly jokes, talk about movies we want to see, mock the people we see around us (this morning's evil observation: "Isn't it a bit late in the morning for the undead to be walking the earth?").

Often, there is a man there at the same time we're there. He is shorter than me, dark olive skin, white hair, sort of round, probably in his late fifties or early sixties. Fatherly looking. He watches us and notices what we're doing, and when I catch him looking at me, I smile because he's not being intrusive and we're not being secretive.

This morning he left just after we did, and he stood behind us while pirateguillermo was confirming our plans for this evening and kissing me goodbye. He went to the truck and I crossed the street to my motorcycle. The man stood there, watching me put on my helmet, fasten on my tank bag, put on my gloves. Then he walked the 50 feet to his car and got in. He was in front of me as I was getting ready to pull out, and he waved at me. I smiled and waved back.

It makes me really happy that this person, who has seen me a few times at breakfast with my husband, now considers me "someone he knows." If he saw me at the farmer's market on Sunday, I'll bet he'd say hello, and I would say hello back, and probably introduce myself and my family.

...And I think to myself, "what a wonderful world."