The Sunday Morning Shmooze

Sunday morning seems to bring out a different crowd. There are still the usual folks showing up for a morning coffee while reading the day's Herald, or the New York Times, as is the case with Doug, but the college kids are missing. Too much partying the night before?

The different crowd is made up of families, multi-generational gatherings of people taking advantage of the juice bar next to Starbucks and the bagel shop a couple doors to the north of that. The children tend to be small and well behaved while the adults catch up on what's going on with one another. "Small talk." Shmooze is the Yiddish word for it, although no two people (or dictionaries, for that matter) will seem to agree on an exact definition.

The youngsters get to spend some time with their grandparents and nobody has to cook or clean up afterwards. The one thing missing is donuts. There's a Dunkin' Donut shop a bit over a mile to the north and another one just under a mile to the south, but I live due west, so they're both out of the way. It's just as well, I suppose. I'd fill up on the damned things and have no room left over for the healthy stuff like Whoppers, pizza, and fried chicken. The way I eat it's a wonder that Dr. Katz hasn't pre-signed my death certificate.