Today it snowed in Starkville, MS.  When not digging a path out of my email Inbox due to the University being closed (blissfully, mercifully) for two weeks, I’d wonder at the white bits of fluff swirling past my window. Snowflakes are impervious to embarrassment or self-consciousness, so watching them is never a problem.

People watching can be.

For example, while in the Los Angeles International Airport on Christmas Day, my 16 year old stepdaughter’s eyes were as big as, say, 767 tires.  Not only was her amazement at the glorious diversity of the general public visible, sometimes it was audible.  As in, “KERI!  Were those white women wearing turbans?”

As a writer, I like to people watch a little more surreptitiously.  I get fewer dirty looks that way.

So today, when my lunch break rolled around, I decided it was too much trouble to drive anywhere to get lunch. Instead, I walked to the campus bookstore, which happens to be a Barnes and Noble.  The café lunch special was half a sandwich (toasted turkey and cheese & chipotle), a cup of soup (Tomato Florentine), and my choice of beverages, including a cup of hot tea. 

A-ha. Perfect.  A prop.

At the condiments counter, I lingered and listened to the café staff chat while adding sugar and milk to my tea. (Topic: Walking the dog "in the snow." It wasn't sticking, but it sounds good.) After I ate, I spent a very fun 30 minutes wandering the bookstore, observing people as they browsed, eavesdropping on conversations while pretending to browse, and telling myself not to buy any calendars or Godiva chocolates even though they were 50% off.

Tea.  It’s healthy.  It’s warm.  It will cure what ails you (at least according to many Brits in books I’ve read).  But it’s also a great disguise, especially when you don't have felt nerd glasses.