Our little cafe

We were just sitting around talking over foldovers and cures, when I happened to mention the movie Three Days of the Condor – you know the one where Robert Redford reads books looking for hidden spy plots and so forth? So we started talking about spies and sending messages and we thought, “Oh my Gosh, do you secrets are being sent  hidden in posts written here?” We have seen some sort of regulars and some just-stopped-by people typing on their cell phones and laptops. Some of them looked like this:

And like this

And this one:

Not to mention her and her story:

Yikes, do we know the secret password to our own cafe? Are we involved in international intrigue? Before Lydia, was our piano player named Sam?

We must keep our eyes peeled.

Oh, Foo just whispered, “The balloon bobs in the wind.”

digital truth

I remember the days before digital cameras, back when people took fewer candid shots to conserve film. That would have been the time when a period of time passed between the photo click and viewing the picture . . . and you would think, “Oh, I look like that?” Not too thrilling, but not too bad. Then yesterday I handed the camera – the little red one – to Summer and asked her to take a picture of the barbecue with Spam on it. When she handed it back she remarked maybe I should not have trusted her with the camera.  I remember thinking I didn’t think she’d break it. Well, she didn’t.

But this morning I know what she meant. I plugged the camera into iphoto and do you know there are angles to almost 62 years that don’t show up in a stand up straight, look straight ahead position? Bend that 62 years and  – whoa – things don’t follow the curve of the bend the way they did , oh four decades ago.

And she photographed it! Do you know that I could have been the understudy to the lead in “Throw Momma From the Train?”  I’m going to go off and practice:

OWEN!! Bring me the salted nuts; the unsalted nuts make me CHOKE!