Someone walks by the coffee shop wearing a hoodie that exactly matches the color of the sky today. It’s winter-chilly, though most of the week has been warm. The people walking in this neighborhood wear a mix of clothing that screams “we have no idea what today will bring.” 

Think I’m exaggerating? The man who just walked by the bakery is wearing shower shoes. The woman walking toward him has on a winter coat, hat, and gloves. Truly cold days are easy to spot because people who have cold drinks carry them in gloved hands. Apparently, I am not alone in thinking there is nothing worse on a chilly day than carrying a cold drink in a bare hand. 

It’s the perfect day for the parking police. I want to knock on the window and remind people to pay for their parking. Instead, I watch as the ticket writers wander the sidewalk every hour or two, sliding the slender white dread under windshield wipers of the guilty. One day, an overly confident fellow attempted to negotiate with the parking police. They don’t care. Really. 

The bakery is particularly busy today. I assume people are purchasing for holiday parties and gift-giving. Yesterday, a woman brought a tray of cookies in for the baristas. They were delighted, hurrying over as soon as the woman left. I could hear the soft “oohs” and “aahs” at my table across the room. Everyone loves a treat. 

A man has left the diner across the street and, stopping in front of the bakery window, is now looking at the goodies while discreetly scratching his butt. Hehe. Yes, I have memorialized this for all internet time, not to embarrass this man though. You don’t know who was feeling rather itchy this morning and he’ll never know that I documented his transgression from politeness. 

I write about it because it was a delightful moment of absurdity. The sun shone directly on his jean-clad rear. He outlined himself quite effectively, all dark blue clothing against a light background of the bakery window. He felt so anonymous and truly he was. However, he was also as visible as if he’d stood under a spotlight. I love people-watching!

My favorite thing, lately, about the coffee shop is the number of couples visiting. Just now, a young woman came out of the restroom and accidentally passed her person without noticing. Of course, he saw her and stood, catching her attention. I only noticed because his chair pushing back created a loud noise that caused me to look up, just in time to see him give her the sweetest smile, the smile that says “I wanted it to be you. I watched to see who it was. To my surprise and delight, it was indeed you.”

When I left the coffee shop earlier today to grab lunch with a friend, I saw a couple sitting on the sofa with their baby. One person was working on a computer, not, technically, paying attention to person two but their shoulders pressed together. 

Yesterday, there were two people sitting at a table, very close to each other. He was MONOPOLIZING the conversation, holding her hand, leaning toward her over their coffee cups. 

I’m not 100% sure that they were going to continue being a couple – she wasn’t doing as much leaning in as he was, IFKYK – but it’s fun to watch the attempts at connection as well as the actual connections. Honestly, give me the confidence of a middle-aged white man who thinks he’s scoring with the pretty lady at the coffee shop when he’s totally striking out. 

A few weeks ago, I sat on one of the conversation sofas across from a couple snuggling, head of person one resting on the thigh of person two. They were sharing stuff on their phones and laughing. I have to note, however, that if Grumpy Barista had been working, there would have been no lying on the sofa. Grumpy Barista does not allow feet to be anywhere but on the floor or crossed on your own knee. This is a fact. I have seen Grumpy Barista scold many patrons for having impolite foot manners. 

I suspect that my stories suggest to you that I spend my day staring at coffee shop visitors. This is a falsehood. I do not stare. I look subtly and return to my computer screen before discreetly glancing again. 

Moving on … not-my-Aunt G has expressed her passionate appreciation for chocolate chip cookies on many occasions. I frequently bring the requested cookies to her but I warned a couple weeks ago that I would be bringing Christmas cookies throughout the month of December. 

When I visited earlier this week, I brought double chocolate snowball cookies. They have a deep cocoa flavor, lightly sweetened by powdered sugar. Honestly, they are incredible. Not-my-Aunt G was horrified. As she said, they were not chocolate chip cookies. As such, she absolutely refused to even try them. Hehe. Don’t worry. They won’t go to waste. And, lesson learned, I will bring her chocolate chip cookies on my next visit. And shortbread bites. I am incorrigible.

Time for cookie baking. Talk to you again soon.