(no subject)

Last night, as my parents and I left a Georgetown restaurant, we saw a line of parked black limos, one of which had the license plate "MUSIC 57." A driver with no passenger at the moment came out and asked us, in a foreign accent, how to pronounce the name on his smartphone screen:

ARETHA FRANKLIN

We gladly told him more than the pronunciation. If I'd been there alone, I would have waited for her to come out of whichever nearby restaurant -- not for an autograph or anything, just to see her. But Mom pointed out that we could be waiting in the cold for an hour or so. (She also said that if she had seen Aretha up close, a certain co-worker would want to touch the hem of her garment.)