Sometimes on Wednesdays I have lunch at the counter of Canteen in San Francisco; usually I sit next to "Ruby," an octogenerian who faithfully attends worship services for the best sole quenelles ever.
It's like Tuesdays with Morrie, but we drink wine, talk about Shanghai in the 1930's, and in general are way more interesting than "An Old Man, A Young Man, and Life's Greatest Lesson."
Ruby: What....(tries to make disparate slices of toast fit compactly together) Waitress! Make me some new toast.
(The waitress brings new toast. It does not fit.)
Ruby: Pardon me, but I have poor eyesight. Can you make these fit together?
Me: (fumbling) No.
Ruby: I hate waste. Where are your parents from?
Me: My father's family is from England, my mother's family is from Poland.
Ruby: Poland and England? Those don't fit.
Me: Like bad toast.