Coffee, Conversation, and Kids

"Did you see Robert Reich on TV last night?"

That is a coffee shop!

Not, "Isn't this some weather we are having?", but, "Who do you think will benefit most if Gingrich drops out?", or "Why do women stay in the Catholic Church?"

The espresso machine shrieks. The light bulb overhead has been out since Pluto was a planet. The morning sun shines directly into our eyes. It doesn't matter. Much. We talk to each other.

Tom reports about the wild turkey who strolls through the intersection over by Fat Lorenzo's. Joel says he will be tied up all day: it is too busy to work. Mari has a meeting. Jeff is almost late for a conference call. He is on Western European time. John leaves early to count money. He is an actuary, tapering off from a lifetime of statistics of impending death by singing in a choir and counting the Sunday offering. His Old Guy coffee group at the church is down to three.

We don't meet just for coffee and conversation. We also need the little kids.

(Maybe I should spell that with a "C": Coffee, conversation, and cids. Cids as in Celtics. But people would say "Sids". Nobody reads, anymore. Or has a warped mind.)

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