Mysteries at odd hours

The things you see when you're out and about at 2:30 a.m. are sometimes subtly odd. I was running some late errands, mailing Christmas packages and dropping off some rented DVDs, and was driving toward home when I noticed something peculiar. At the southern edge of the Microsoft campus, standing on the corner at a respectable distance from one another, were two women. They were of that indeterminate age somewhere between middle-aged and elderly, rounded and shapeless, wearing parkas and babushka-style headscarves. They were obviously talking to each other in a genial way, in no particular hurry, standing there in the rain.

What were they doing there? They couldn't have been waiting for a bus; even if they had been anywhere near a bus stop (they weren't), the county buses stopped running at least an hour ago. They obviously weren't in the process of walking home; I sat waiting for the light to change and they showed no signs of stirring or attempting to cross the street in either direction. They were just standing on the corner in the middle of the night, in the rain, talking. For all their lack of defined purpose, they could have dropped there from the skies or grown up from the concrete.

I can't help but think there's a story somewhere in this incident. Did I observe the meeting of two magicians? Are there a couple of statues on campus that are technologically enchanted to come to life at night, and are free to roam around as long as they stay on the campus? Or is it something slightly more prosaic like the Russian Mafia or a roving band of TechnoGrannies?

What strange things have you seen in the wee hours?

Half Price Books, thou art my nemesis

So, the book-buying brownies that infest Half Price Books managed to pull me into the store... not once, but twice. Behold the fruits of the latest kidlit-purchasing orgy:

This pile represents about two-thirds of the total volume of books purchased. I would probably be more ashamed of my piggy book-hoarding self, but some of these will be bound for a certain little volunteer library in short order... so I feel kinda-sorta justified... kinda.

Perched atop this teetering pile is a lovely golden quince. I just started reading about quinces recently and they sounded oddly intriguing, and then at Safeway what to my wondering eyes should appear but two of these mellow pineapple-scented beauties. I took this as a sign that I should purchase them. Their destiny is to be slowly poached and consumed with much delight. Also, quite a while back, I picked up some membrillo at a Latino market and have been slipping it into things... served with cheese, as recommended; diced small and added to honey yogurt; etc. This bears repeating. Why don't we Americans do more things with quinces?