Lunch, Imposter, and a Vietnam Vet

Picked up my pal, Pat L., at noon and we went to Cuisine on the Green. It was jammed with some kind of old lady gathering in the front room, men's group in the back, and raucous golfers in the middle. There were no tables open except high ones and Pat, who uses a cane, would never be able to get up, let alone perch on one long enough to eat. We were about to leave when the bartender--a pretty blonde who identified herself as the manager, also--saw our dilemma and asked two young women if they'd consider relinquishing their standard table for us. They were agreeable and moved to a high hat, we thanked them profusely, then settled in.
Luckily, the golfers went back to their holes or wherever it is golfers go, and we had an enjoyable lunch. Dropped Pat off, went home to do a few chores, then started down to Ventnor sometime after 4:00.
Bobbi and I had time to chat for a bit before Louise arrived; after that, we went over Imposterr. They both already "get it" and I just gave them a few tips and pointers. After, Bobbi served us tiny little pot pies she had gotten at Trader Joe's up north. They were yummy and the three of us had a good chat as we enjoyed them. I didn't get home until after 7:00, changed to night clothes, poured myself a glass of wine, and watched my daily 45 minutes or so of brain poison before beddy- bye.
After our walk this morning, I divided the four quarts of strawberries we had picked on Tuesday and took some over to Susan. Walter, who is, of course, my real estate agent, said somebody else wanted to see the house. The agent on that side will call me, I guess, but if this one doesn't pan out, I'm going to consider seriously whether to continue with the rental listing or put it up for sale.
WIDER: While I was typing this deathless prose (in the library, as my computer still hasn't come home), there was a man using the computer opposite who was wearing a "Vietnam Vet" hat. To my absolute amazement--and his, too, maybe--a woman came up to him and intoned with a soulful expression, "I want to thank you for your service to our country." Of course, this is now considered the thing to do when spotting hired killers, as long as they're in the employ of the government, and not the Mafia. Is it possible this woman and the many others who mouth that hogwash don't realize the millions of dollars (this can be verified on-line) the military spends on such platitudes, slogans, and idiotic directions for the simple-minded? It's horrible, but also seems bizarrely comical. One of these days, faithful patriots may be directed to "Kick a Muslim"--hey, why not, they're all subhuman, aren't they?