I am my mother’s daughter and she is her mother’s daughter and since Grandma was a young mother of the depression, we don’t waste food. My grandma’s initials were H.G.D. and she once told me, while eating my sandwich scraps over the kitchen sink, that this stood for “human garbage disposal.” My mother declared it was a sin, to waste food, even though I doubt even she, in her pro-Catholic days, ever confessed as much behind a screen. So, I blame my behavior on genetics. Possibly environment. In any case, I am not completely responsible for my actions, especially concerning almost-wasted food. Case in point: today, I finally broke down and ate the organic spinach tofu wrap my visiting daughter forced into the shopping cart (and then forgot about in the freezer) a full year ago. I microwaved it, took a nose-wrinkling bite, covered it with salsa and proceeded unhappily until my plate was clean. Unpleasant lunch #8546, known to scavenging mothers everywhere. Future year-old frozen organic spinach tofu wraps need not apply. I must learn to draw the line somewhere.