We just went to the little college deli. You know how in these little local places, the folks who are regulars nod to each other? If they’re painfully introverted, maybe they won’t exchange names and sit and eat together… but they nod at each other. “Hey, it’s that guy again. Howyadoin.”
Well, this is a little place where we’re likely to eat twice a week, but separately. Maribou tends to get lunches there and I tend to get breakfasts (to go) from there, but if I drop off the car for Maribou and walk home, sometimes I’ll grab a dinner there as it is along the way.
We’re regulars, just not *TOGETHER* regulars.
Anyway, tonight was a night where we could both go there at the same time.
It’s always fun to see the relatively new kids behind the counter widen their eyes and say “you guys are married to EACH OTHER?!?!?”
And we get to our booth and take our seats and have a lovely meal punctuated by the occasional short conversation with a random person we happen to know who just happens to frequent this little deli as well.
A short conversation, a meal made just the way we like it (and we’ve reached the point where the kids in the kitchen will make us stuff that isn’t even *CLOSE* to being on the menu), and an atmosphere that makes you wish it were the early 90’s and you smoked and they still allowed smoking in little college delis.
A good date to kick off the weekend. Which, of course, is a change in the plan because we were going to watch Crimson Peak but Maribou’s work is having her show up some seriously weird hours. I’m still looking forward to hitting the various pet, warehouse, grocery, and hippie food stores this weekend and hiding in the basement with the cats the rest of the time. Maybe I’ll see if I can’t grab another meal at the little college diner. They can make some seriously good stuff.
So… what’s on your docket?
(Photo is “Footrace finish line, 1925” from the Seattle Municipal Archives, used under a creative commons license)