I see trees of green, red roses too...

So far my trip to D.C. has produced many interesting life milestones. I've been verbally beaten into submission, walked 1.5 miles in the snow, and almost was lost in a bad part of the city (an area into which two little yuppie girls should not venture alone).

Yesterday, though, I was hit on by a homeless man. He was a nice-looking, younger man, relatively clean-shaven and personable, picking up a half-gallon of milk and a sandwich at the Dupont Circle CVS. He waved feverishly at me from down the drink aisle, grinning as I turned to look behind me at whoever the object of his attention might be. The aisle, of course, was empty. I smiled, to which he bowed in return, saying, "Ah, thank you! A smile is worth a thousand words."

As we left the store, we saw him sitting outside among three or four knapsacks and trash bags, enjoying his milk and sandwich. He complimented me on my hat (it IS a cute hat), and we bid him a good evening as we continued on to our hotel.

Later on, I reflected upon what undoubtedly was my most pleasant ever experience with a homeless person. He didn't ask me for money, he didn't tell me I should've divorced Bill Clinton, and he didn't spit on my shoes. In fact, I would've liked to talk with him, to hear some of his story. And that brief encounter led me to formulate my campaign strategy for public office: Zoloft for the homeless.

"...and I think to myself, 'What a wonderful world.'"