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Neat how the design on my mocha is similar to the sidewalk tables, but frustrating how second cup of coffee is always out of reach. Click the image to enlarge it.

The barista at the front counter of the Waves coffee house wasn't waiting to take my order; she already had a slice of gingerbread loaf plated and the POS display was beaming with the details of my large, extra-hot, dark mocha. I forget what I said, but her reply was: "you're the high point of our day!"

What do you say to that? Not what I said -- something like, "that's sad," and how maybe they don't get out enough. It's a reflex on my part. I have trouble taking compliments gracefully, if at all. My people-person barista said as much; chiding me: "Don't refuse the compliment; accept it!

Good advice. What did her partner-in-java, who made my dark mocha, think of my gauche behaviour? Well she made a face. Click the image to enlarge.

The sun came right into the Waves Coffee House in the late afternoon. It didn't order anything; it just stood in the doorway and glared at everyone. Laptops are like vampires when it comes to both electricity, and direct sunlight -- almost everyone moved themselves, and their hardware to the back of the restaurant; some customers might have even decamped for the washrooms -- any farther back, and they'd have been in the back alley. I was getting two Megabytes-plus file transfer speeds, and wasn't inclined to move so much as an inch. Click the image to enlarge it.

Happened to look up from my coffee at Waves today, and look across the street -- two kids were setting up to take a photo in the doorway of a shop. I was chuckling to myself because last night that very spot was host to a difficult drunk who required the services of not one, but two police cars. I used the camera's zoom to have a better look, and snapped a few shots in the process. I wondered why the shop wasn't open; they sell some of the the best-quality umbrellas in Vancouver; business should be good after Wednesday's deluge. Anyway, when I looked back a moment later the pair was gone. Click the photos to enlarge them.

[caption id="attachment_4270" align="alignnone" width="497"] Waves Coffee House. The shadows wax as summer wanes. Click the image to enlarge,[/caption]

Homeowners tell me ivy's a weed, nearly impossible to eradicate once it gains a foothold. I believe it; the stuff leaves scars when you pry it off a wall -- but it sure is purdy! Having thought high heel pumps on overhead wires was worth posting, I couldn't ignore the scene just steps East of the pumps. Don't know how recently the ivy started up onto the power line, but I'm interested to see how it grows, and how long before  someone takes it down. And, apropos of nothing, a picture of the mocha I drank while blogging this. Click on the images to enlarge them.

Earlier today I was at the Waves coffee shop, on Spruce, and West Broadway. At one point I fetched some napkins. Walked back to my comfy armchair, I blew my nose, and knew immediately I had a problem. First I will digress, and point out how blowing my nose  can generally be a problem -- I have been actually banned, sort of, from doing it in the Seven-Eleven at Oak and Broadway:

"You cannot cough sir.""I wasn't coughing, I was blowing my nose."
"You mustn't do that, sir. Customers complain."
"I..."
"It is bad for our business."

So, I'm sensitive. I try to be quiet-er. This, was a different problem. By the time I made it back to my seat, I had a full-on nose bleed. Well, I'm sure you know how it is, you don't want to alarm anyone, or cause a scene. You might do what I did -- act like nothing out of the ordinary is happening. Like, if you were in a public place, and one of your limbs just fell off, without warning, just fell off. You might naturally just try to tough it out; rearrange your remaining limbs so nothing looked out of the ordinary, drink your coffee, finish answering your email, hoping, in the meantime that the limb might -- well -- grow back.

[caption id="attachment_1890" align="alignright" width="200"] Another fine dark mocha. Bloody good coffee they serve at Waves, I must say! Click on the image to see a larger version.[/caption]

So I was sitting, nonchalantly as possible, with my head tilted all the way back, making quiet gurgling noises. Despite, or because of, my efforts to be unobtrusive, I imagined, everyone else in the Waves was watching me like a hawk, and sneaking glances at the exit in case they had to run for it, if the homeless guy, who was obviously on drugs, ran amuck -- "When they have their head tilted back like that, means they're having a dope attack. I read it. That's the death gurgle, he's making."

The crisis passed. I had a delicious dark mocha to wash away the taste of blood. We all pretended nothing had happened, and finished answering our email.