So I'm waiting for the lovely South Shore Indiana-Chicago commuter train at 6:50 a.m. today, anxiously anticipating the self-satisfying filing and data entry heading my way. And I look to my left, half awake, half asleep and am jolted into bright-eyeness by a sickening sight: a woman, cute and well dressed....eating cheddar cheese Ruffles. For breakfast. Before 7 a.m. I literally gagged and had to turn my head, knowing I was making a face at her. Now, I'm not saying I eat terribly healthy things. I mean, I did just have cold pizza for breakfast Sunday morning at KM's. (But hey, remember a couple of years ago when researchers said it was like, the one thing people could eat for breakfast that had all the nutrients?: meat, vegetables, fiber, etc.)

But dear God, people cheddar potato chips? On a Monday, with your coffee? It doesn't happen often, but I judged her, chomp chomp chomping away at those chips. Crrrrrrunch. Crrrrrunch. Burp. (okay, not really that last part) If I see her again Wednesday when I go back to work, I will kindly pass her one of my unsatisfying but non-potato breakfast bars. I'll be like a Healthier Breakfast Fairy.

Or not, but I'm just sayin'.

On a random note: "work clothes" are funny to me. And I don't mean office clothing, pressed shirts and tailored Dockers. I mean I'm-gonna-rustle-around-in-the-dirt apparel. We all have it, in various forms. But a piece of my dad's like wardrobe takes the proverbial cake. It's an old hunter green zip-up hoodie, nothing special. Except that for months (years?) he'd hung it on a hanger against the blinds in our back porch. (Why? People, this is my loveable dad, no one knows.) After days, months (and years) of the sun beating down mercilessly on our back porch, the jacket began to fade. In lines. Lines that synch right up to the lines in the blides upon which the jacket rested.

So now everytime my dad goes to mow the lawn or take out trash, he slips his arms into the sleeves and proudly zips up his hunterish green jacket with yellowing lines on the back. It's like one half of a prison uniform in some weirdly colored jail. But hey, we all call it our "work clothes" for a reason, right?