Feeding the Birds

As we relaxed at a small cafe in San Francisco this past weekend (more on that tomorrow), Brad informed me that he could see himself in the future.

An old man who saves his bread scraps.

An old man with glasses parked on the top of his head.

An old man who schedules time each day at a park.

An old man with a newspaper under one arm and a baguette and cheese under the other.

An old man with nothing to do in the morning . . . 

. . . nothing to do but spend time feeding the birds.

These little guys loved his chocolate crossaint almost as much as he loved feeding it to them.

I saw myself in the future, too.

And I'm still just as impatient to do stuff and see stuff and not sit still as I am today. This may be a problem for my bird-feeding husband of the future.