It’s fifteen minutes past noon and I’m ready for lunch.  Normally, Tuesday lunch hour consists of a tuna sandwich, a magazine, and an earful of stories from my grandmother, as Tuesday is my day to talk with her.  However, she called me at 7:30 a.m.  A little early, but she had reason.  I sent her the Cher barbie doll for her birthday and it had just been delivered.  She loved it.  Happy 75th, Stojko!

So, without phone plans, lunch was looking lonely.  Bummer… Well, I could casually stroll by Milla’s desk (resident Computer chick with an awesome Russian accent) and see what she’s up to.  So, I did.  I barely said the words “So, lunch -” when she flicked off her computer screen, grabbed her rockin’ orange bag and asked where we were going.  The Toaster Oven was the winner today; the location being the determining factor. 

Sitting in a loud, cramped, lunch bar, we had the following topics of conversation to dissect; Milla’s boss, my boss, the dynamics of my boss being Milla’s boss’s boss, the suckage of Mondays in general, the suckage of yesterday specifically, everything that’s happened in the two weeks since we’ve had lunch together, Halloween, winter eating habits of East Coasters and Russians alike, and finally the superb location we had chosen for lunch.  All that wrapped up in about twelve minutes and we walked (never in a crosswalk at any point, as I was following Milla, who dislikes rules and enjoys disobeying signs posted and traffic officers) back to work.