I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read.--Oscar Wilde

A brief memoir of Eleanor's life over the past few days:

The cooks are betting again.
During work on Saturday morning, I watched Rae watch our friends talk to her dad. She was busy most of the time with 10 Rae Specials and other egg spectaculars. Once she had a short break, she pulled a chair out into the middle of the entryway and stood on it just to get a peek at our friends and her dad. I didn't see much from my wonderful cashier stance, of course--just a puff of white hair. According to Rae the discussion looked promising. All were nodding their heads in a diplomatic sort of way.
It was later at work when I learned that any quirk in a caf sign was due to AJ's mischevious scheme to tear the whole place down. Which doesn't sound like a bad idea at all.

You can always judge a place by its bathrooms.
Listen up, gentlemen. Any lady could tell you this. Or, at least, I think so. I went swing dancing Saturday night at a club called Memories. As I was telling my journal earlier: "if only they had this kind of thing growing up in New Orleans, I would have been a much happier person." Imagine a city with a heart that beats to its own music and dance and, yet, doesn't have a place for young oddballs to go have some good, wholesome, swingin fun. To think that there were people like me this whole time!
Ah, yes, but about Memories' bathrooms. These were no ordinary bathrooms, I tell you. They were equipped with large fainting couches, counters, mirrors, and a chair shaped like a high heeled shoe. Hard wood floors, too. Luxury at its finest.
Swing dancing was great fun and humbling, too. I realized that I really do only know the basics. This is a good reason for me to go hunt down a swing club in France. I'll keep you posted.

Did you know that you're made up of 99.9% empty space? (make eyes really big)
I never thought of it like that before but if the nucleus of an atom is a pea in the middle of a football field and the electrons fly around the edge of the football field, it would be true. Amazing. I just have to think about the poor pea who's about to be squished to smithereens in the event of a tackle.