Friday was a perfectly serviceable day here in Paradise. I got the little dogs bathed, sat for two hours in my favorite coffee house and scribbled notes for the book. In the afternoon, the clouds burned away and the antiwar protesters appeared for their weekly vigil where the drug store used to be.

It’s a little park now, with flowering trees with unpronouncable names. But I remember a vivid lesson I learned there when I was very small. My cousins took me to the drug store and we bought candy. When the lady told me the price, I told her that was too much. It was the mid 1960s, and candy was still cheap. I’ll never forget, she leaned over the counter and said, “Don’t buy it.”

I wonder if there’s a way we can employ this lesson in our nation’s present macro-worrisome circumstances. Is there something we’re buying that we don’t really need, and which is costing us more than we’re willing to pay? Hmmm. It’s worth thinking about.

I wish I knew then what I know now about treats and the effects of ill-considered eating on my life. I would have reached my little six year old paw back up and set that Baby Ruth on that hard glass counter, turned to that wise lady and cheerfully suggested she kiss my ass.