I Blame the Italian in me...

Leaving work with a whopping eight dollars, creativity was needed in how to spend my earnings.

So a walk was called for and the "whopping" eight dollars found itself spent on a tea, and an orange danish thingamabob for an older gentleman in a wheelchair, who said he had diabetes, and hadn't had a thing to eat all day. (Sadly, I couldn't afford the double mocha frappuccino he requested--but we weren't at Starbucks either).

Being asked a week ago by a friend if I was trying to get him fat, I now realize I have more of that stereotypical Italian woman flowing through my veins than I thought. Eat, eat...I say. Though instead of pasta and risotto, I pass on pastries and baked goods.

MANGIA!!!

Yep, that's me.

And then walking the streets--money spent--I sang again at the top of my lungs, viewed the beauty of hidden flowers, almost got hit by a speed demon car--child in passenger seat and the father driving had the nerve to roll down his window while turning and tell me he saw me and not to stress--I proceeded to give him a piece of my mind and then I was home.

And I realized dinner would be the same as it had been the past two nights.

A bowl of Cheerios.

I hope the guy liked the orange danish thingamabob and it didn't send him into glucose shock.