Nomadic Narrative

Here I am back in the land of the beautiful, fit and well-dressed. As I sit here sipping a large double-cupped green tea (I said it was for here, yet he still grabbed the Styrofoam.) and munching on a moist shortbread cookie, I’m watching hoards of well-groomed people wind in-and-out of the bakery. Fresh out of Frog’s Gym, I’m not feeling too shabby myself ― I certainly didn’t take it personally when the bakery staff guy tried to wrestle away the last third of my shortbread cookie; I can afford the additional 600-buttery calories.

I’m sitting in a cozy leather armchair the color of a Crayola that never needed sharpening in my box ― Burnt Sienna. Next to a real pine tree sparsely decorated with what looks like last week’s shortbread cookies, it’s the perfect people-watching spot tucked into a corner and slightly lower than the many surrounding barstools.

Next to me is Paris Hilton, at least that’s what I thought when she first walked in. She’s eating a ham and cheese sandwich and talking on her Blackberry. Out of pure lonely fascination, I’m trying to eavesdrop on the conversation to my left; however, the elevated seats send the chatter overhead and out of earshot.

There are many people out and about but I haven’t seen one single shopping bag. I’m in an outdoor mall with lots of parking, so I’m guessing that either people aren’t purchasing or they’re putting everything in the car before taking a table in the bakery. Or maybe they’re already enjoying their new purchases ― new shoes, jeans, cell phones, or as in my case, a mini-laptop!

Blogging now has no bounds!