Money on my chest
Yesterday was my 51st revolution around the sun and I pinned a dollar bill on my chest as is the custom here. I only received one more dollar unlike last year when, chi ching, I racked up (so to speak). But this year, the money was actually pinned on the ErgoBaby, on a flap so no one would poke Tin, and everybody (from out of town of course) kept stopping to tell me my money was falling out of my pouch.
But money is a form of currency that means something to other people, yesterday before the Fest, a few neighbors and friends stopped by to raise a glass of champagne with me and have an ice cream sandwich and carrot cake from Sucre and who could put a price on being surrounded by people you love singing you happy birthday?
For everything else there is Mastercard.