It's daytime, Sunday morning about nine, and I'm driving down the street on my way to breakfast and laundry. There's construction just after I turn on to the street, and a black man, fairly thin, wearing a workshirt, short hair, grouchy face, jeans, is standing in the right-hand lane in just the position where I have to edge around him into the traffic, which is heavy and a little dodgy because of the construction stuff. He could move easier than I can get around him, but he just stands there with his arms crossed in front of him, looking sullen, like "Dare me - go on, hit me". I do get around him, and still have to keep slow because this man and woman are dashing across the street, not at the crosswalk, but in a very awkward place and everybody has to stop or dodge them. Honestly. I pass a restaurant in the middle of the road, a small place, roundish, lots of glass so the customers can look outside. As I pass I see Bonnie in there, her family just being seated. I think she's looked up and seen me, but I've gone by too fast to wave or anything. I've just noticed what I'm wearing, as though I just threw this on and dashed out without looking - it's a T-shirt and a tan tweed skirt, bias-cut, rather well-bred looking, I'm thinking I look sort of casually classy. I keep pulling my glasses off and rubbing my eyes; I can maneuver pretty well without them, but I'm very aware that if a cop were to stop me for anything I'd be in trouble. I decide I'd sooner have breakfast and do the laundry at a laundromat than go out to my mother's, so I start thinking about where to go. I go on down the road, down the hill, and it becomes Turtle Creek Park, more nearly like where Fairmount goes down than Lemmon. It's darker, as if it hadn't actually dawned yet, and the atmosphere is like about 6.00 am. I've decided to turn left but I'm stopped by the curb, there's what looks like a road but there's a couple of steps (not a real curb) so you can't drive up on it. I can't quite see this so I put my glasses on. Now, I guess, I'll go the other way, but before I get the car turned around I see Sandie walking along. She's got a pitcher and a glass in her hands with something purplish in. I get out of the car to go talk to her. She's just out for a Sunday-morning stroll, with some breakfast juice, would I like some? I say yes, take the glass and drink - it's rather like grape juice but milder and better. Some friends of hers come up, that she's going out to eat with. They're going to a rather fancy place for lunch and I can come along, but I say no thanks, I really want breakfast - I'm never quite satisfied if I don't get it, but I'll come along and visit with them anyway until I decide where I'm going to go. There's some discussion about the time - Sandie thinks it's much earlier than it is, but I say, no, it's almost 10.00, I think, but one of her friends says it's just 9.16. I do remember now, I saw that on a clock I'd just passed. This restaurant they're going to is not far, and we're actually in it next. It's sort of an elegant little place with white tablecloths and china. Some rather good-looking dark-haired men in suits sitting at one table. I'm sort of aware of them being aware of us. (I certainly wanted to look good.) We're not at a table - somehow it's more like after the meal, and we're standing at a sweets tray (counter-height) with mostly fancy chocolate on it. There are shapes, mainly leaves, delicate things, and made to look like enamelled copper jewellery - indeed some were set up to look like earrings. There is also a log-thing in the center with a thick layer of chocolate around something else. I want some, of course, though I wonder if the restaurant people won't be noticing that I'm not a paying customer. The girls I'm with, however, offer me a leaf, which I take and it's very nice, but I really want some of the log. Someone cuts me off a bit - I really appreciate that. I am going to be pushing off for breakfast, though, and I'm thinking about where to go. I mention a place back up Lemmon that I'd seen from the bus, a French bakery, can't quite recall the name but I think it's got "Paris" or "Parisian" in it. I keep saying "dah dah dah", as if it's got 3 words in the name, but I know it's only got 2.