Breakfast with Del

Breakfast at First Watch, we have a three minute wait for a table.  We sit, people watch, and who walks by but Del Donahoo?  I mention how lucky I am that I bring my camera everywhere,  and Karen's response is 'You are not going to take a picture of that poor man with his family.'  I say, no, and feel a little silly for even thinking that I could sneak a pic.  We are then seated, directly next to his table, and I am facing him.  Karen sits down, completely unaware.  I am notoriously bad at hiding anything, so giggly, I tell her how pretty she looks today.  She thinks I'm making fun, and I say 'no, I might even need to take your picture here.'  
I wait for the perfect moment, trying not to look like I'm taking the poor man's picture while he's with his family. I pull out the camera, and Karen, remembering how cute she is today, has decided that she 'will be studying' for the picture.  I can barely hold the camera steady, proud of myself that she still doesn't know that I'm not really taking her picture.  --snap--  I'm chuckling, she asks if she looks silly, so I show her the picture, and point out how lovely she looks, and how lovely Del looks over her shoulder.

The day started with the decision of where to go to avoid the HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE CONSTRUCTION NOISE.  We lived through a few hours of it yesterday, and I gotta say, at 9am, the pounding, clanking, compresser-noise covered by blaring heavy metal was making my ears bleed.  After breakfast, looking for a place for K to finish her homework quietly, I suggested Starbucks.  I found a gift card from last Christmas (thanks, Doug) and it's been in my wallet ever since.  Two driveways from breakfast we found one, and it only took me five minutes to maneuver the 500' distance.  I realized, laughing, that I didn't bring my wallet, which had the gift card.  Whoops.  Fine, we'll get something to drink, plop down in the silence on the interwebs, and chill out for an hour.  We're there for a few minutes when I realized that their WiFi had a charge, and credit card numbers would have to be entered for timeblocks, (um...  am I being punked?) so I was playing in Photoshop.  I hear a jazzy version of a song I know from Elvis Costello, so I shove my little tidbit of knowlege to Karen. 

'This was originally done by Elvis Costello, 'Love for Sale.' 
Karen points out that it sounds like it's probably the original, and maybe Elvis covered it.
Blink.                   Blink, Blink.                  

I say no! (please add your own eye-rolling with a condescending tone.) NO! This is probably his new wife, the jazz singer, covering it.  A few minutes went by, and then some grinder machine started to do it's best impression of the HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE CONSTRUCTION NOISE.  Seriously?  It seemed like ten minutes had passed, but the sound stopped.  Karen turned the page in her homework, and realized that she needed the internet to finish.  We headed home, defeated.

We're watching Casablanca for Karen's film class, and early into the film, she joked that 'this is an Elvis Costello song' and she laughed and laughed and rolled her eyes (and so I stabbed her.)  About four minutes later, lo and behold, what song is the bar piano player playing?  Yep.  'Love for Sale'

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