Got to Betty's door at the usual 11:30. We chatted a bit, then walked down the street to the Natural Cafe. This is one of those places--as I'm constantly ranting about--where you have to stand at a counter to order, then get your own utensils yet, unlike fast food places, is plenty high-priced. They also expect you to tip as if you'd really gotten full service.
Anyway, I looked at the menu and decided on a half turkey sandwich and lentil soup (which were very good, by the way), plus a semi-dark craft beer. Betty was right behind me, but stood there in line perusing the menu, with there were ten people behind her. I moved her over so they could get through, then she sat down at our table. She must have read every word on the menu and provided a running commentary: "Should I get that? What about this? Did you ever have it?," and so on. My meal came and I had it half eaten before she finally decided on a cheese sandwich and a salad. Of course she had to engage the young waiter in conversion and string her favorite jokes on him. (Just as a horrible example: "Where does a general keep him armies?" Answer: "Up his sleevies.")
Anyway, we finally finished and left. I told Betty I wanted to get home before dark, so had to take the 2:20 back to Ventura, which meant I had to leave about 1:45. However, I went to her clubhouse for coffee before I left, and when I arrived in town, it was 2:26, so I missed that bus. Had to wait for the 3:37, but that actually led to an interesting encounter. Since I had an hour to wait, I walked to the library and took some pictures of the beautiful 101-year-old building, as well as the courthouse across the street. 
Sat down at the bus stop, where a woman in the forties or so was sitting. After a few minutes, she politely asked if I could spare enough money for bus fare to Ventura ($1.85). She was well-dressed and well-spoken, obviously not homeless,and introduced herself as Monique.
In truth, I usually carry very little cash and, aside from my own bus fare, I had only a dollar. I gave her that and she told me the sad story that her daughter had been shot and killed by a police officer in Oxnard and she was involved in a court case. She showed me what I would call a mass card, with a picture of the girl and a death date of March something, 2015.
Anyway, we chatted for a half-hour or so until the bus came. She told the driver she had only the dollar and, happily, he let her on although the fare was $1,85, She didn't ride all the way to Oxnard, but got off at the Santa Barbara harbor, I don't know why. I didn't care if she was a con-artist or not, I liked talking to her and what's a dollar to me, anyway? When I got home, I looked up the incident and sure enough, what she said was true. I read and saw a lot about it--newspaper articles, youtube (another daughter testified and was very articulate), and obituaries--and clearly, it caused quite a stir at the time.
I'm mulling over the possibility of contacting Monique, but I'm not sure if I will. One way or the other, though, it was an interesting encounter and wouldn't have happened if 1.) I had gotten the 2:20 and 2.) I hadn't walked the several blocks to the library. So does that mean that we're somehow influenced by a mysterious force outside ourselves? God? Zeus? Angels? Aliens? The Powers That Be? I don't know and neither does anyone else.
And speaking of mysterious forces: It's raining!
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