For those of you in the dark, I love to eat. It's fitting, as I also love to cook, and I have the pleasure of enjoying all of the wonderful cooking that Liz has to offer as well, but every once in a while we venture out to let someone else do the cooking. Yesterday was such a day. Armed with a coupon and an appetite, we ventured for breakfast at Scramblers, an establishment that fancies itself as a breakfast bistro, and they tend to deliver on one's expectations. The wait was modest, affording a modest people watching opportunity, which makes the journey that much more worthwhile. When we were sat, we were surprised to see a couple crowded in a table adjacent to us with newspaper and coupons sprawled out upon the table, discussing the weeks deals and the various deals in front of them. They obviously were a couple, likewise apparently cohabitating, but they seemed to know very little of what each other liked, which would have been the most surprising aspect of the situation, were it not for the fact that it occurred in a pact establishment with a wait for tables. A truly bizarre situation. Dinner also was rewarding, as the wonders of loads of sausage and other German fare are hard to resist (well, being the lousy German I am, I can easily resist sour kraut), but all I can remember was seeing Liberace reincarnated, complete with a silvery reflective shirt--more than mere sequins, rather nickel sized bits of reflective plastic.
So the question is, who's watching us? I enjoy people watching, but I'm not so sure about being watched.