Typical Saturday at the end of July.

Cool sunny morning. Stacy and I decided to eat breakfast at a local diner, you know, the kind that cater to older folks with wrap-around sunglasses. No checks or credit cards. Decor: fashionably late seventies - girly wall paper with borders, white ceiling fans, vertical blinds, small color pictures of Greek Isles around the walls, one for each booth.

I ordered a single egg, over medium, with sausage. It came with home-fries and toast. Stacy ordered a spinach and cheese omelette, of which I will eat half. Our coffees were refilled every five minutes by the elderly waitress who, hopefully, was still working by choice. Two sausages the size of hot dogs were a pleasant surprise, and Stacy's omelette was happily brimming with spinach, though the triangles of American cheese melted on the top were a bit, er, cheezy.

I've lost some weight over the past few months and in order to maintain, I've decided to leave food on my plate rather than scrape the plate clean (I've long annoyed people with the sound of my fork scraping the plate for every last morsel). I understand that leaving something on the plate is good form, I suppose it attests to being less than gluttonous. One sausage, half the toast, a quarter of Stacy's omelette, half the potatoes sit uneaten and I'm satisfied.

Our very sweet neighbor, Ree-ree, mowed our front lawn before I insisted she not (how convenient). She did the same last week, too. We seem to have bouts of this every summer until I lay down the law. She always gives me some excuse, but I can never hear it over the sound of the mower. I believe it's payback for the snow-blowing I do for them in the winter.

In the late afternoon, we went to Kaitlyn's (Ben's on and off again girlfriend) graduation from High School party. A bit awkward because Ben was off visiting his grandparents. Back yard b-b-q. A small yard overgrown with vigorous vegetable and flower gardens, but still plenty of room for picnic table, chairs, and cooker. We knew none of the adults other than Kaitlyn's quirky and good natured parents. Stayed for an hour or so and made a not so graceful bow out. Afternoon backyard parties are just too much sitting about in lawn chairs making forced conversation while eating. I don't know, call me a creep, but this is not my definition of fun.

Ended the day, at home, watching the mediocre "Bon Voyage," a French subtitled farce about four unlikely characters escaping the Nazi invasion of Paris.

What did you do with your Saturday?