One of my serious friends once explained to me that I was wasting my education and talent by writing stuff for kids, and he hoped I would become serious like him, and write a great large American novel, and a serious one. Being a nice and open-minded person, I thought about this, and what it would be like if people like him were my readers instead of people like the people who like my stuff. I became so depressed that I had to drive to Poughkeepsie, New York, to the La Deliziosa bakery, and buy a sfogliatelle, (available only on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays). This helped, because the sfogliartelle is a crunchy, chewy pastry, looking exactly like a bivalve, and filled with ricotta and bits of citron, amazing warm from the oven, and also amazing cold, and very good with coffee. I like to think if my friend had one, he might have been less serious, and not have made such a silly suggestion. I could have gotten another one for him, but I would only have eaten it myself.