when the cat hasn't got your tongue

the other day in the coffee shop, one member of a forty-to-fifty-something female trio gleefully shares: oh, you can never have too many cats!

(uh-oh. somebody didn't get the memo...)

and now back to translating...

haiku

i can feel it kick!

womb-deep intoxication.

hot liquid cocoa.

and now back to translating...

even if he says it to everyone

when the tall, sweet, leanly bicepped barista (who's also blessed with a touch of 'rugged' and a smidge of 'dim') pauses after taking your order so he can -- almost under his breath and through a coy smile -- say happy valentine's, blushing is not only inevitable; it is imperative.

and now back to translating...

like nails on a...

a coffee shop is a great place for many things:

• a first date
• a little work
• perusing the newspaper
• crossword puzzling
• people watching
• catching up with a small gaggle of friends
• pitstopping in the middle of a long road trip
• looking for a new job
• drafting a letter explaining why you're leaving your current job
• googling, for no particular reason
• writing the great canadian novel (or just pipedreaming about doing it)
• enjoying some outside-the-house time with your eighteen-month-old
• blogging
• a fiftieth date
• etc.

something unfolding behind me right now, however, reminds me that there are also things that a coffee shop is not well-suited for: clipping your finger nails. guh-ross. the repeated, piercing *SNAP* is...unpleasant, to put it gently. worse, though (particularly as i attempt to continue enjoying my hot chocolate), is thinking about where exactly the discarded nail bits are landing. pretty sure they're ending up in the basket-like hood of my sweatshirt. *sigh*

and now back to translating...