f-r-e-e-d-u-m-b

Yay for late Spring! We joined a CSA this year for our veggies. Our second box came today with lots of greens, plus a few herb seedlings to grow on our own:















I stopped at the Co-op to get some mushrooms & sat outside for a few minutes with a smoothie to enjoy the sunshine while it lasted. Across from me sat an aging hippy wearing a bright orange safety vest. He kind of just started talking, and I took note of the following points from the conversation, though I was only rarely able to get a word in edgewise.

• He was an ex-con back in the seventies
• Upon his release from prison, he was immediately drafted. Essentially, he could go to war or go back to prison.
• He had trouble getting a job when he returned from Vietnam, "because all the veterans were treated like criminals!!" [I thought, "all the veterans? Or just the ex-con veterans?" Though I know that was generally true back then. ]
• In this country, we have no rights. And, "freedom is spelled f-r-e-e-d-u-m-b"!!
• He was once married by common-law without realizing it and was later ordered to pay child support for a child who may or may not be his.
• His wife left him for a woman, and his son, at age 16, escaped from a mental institution and came straight to Madison to find his dad. The young fellow had a tatoo that said "I kill hippies", as well as a nazi symbol tatoo and some metal spikes embedded in his head. He wanted his father to buy him beer.
  
• He appends "the Bike" to the end of his name (which rhymes with bike), because he fixes people's bicycles. In fact, his bicycle has a large wagon hitched to the back containing other bicycles that he's working on.
  

He was interested to know when I usually hung out at the co-op so we could catch up again. So I did enjoy listening to the guy. But based on his reaction to a reference I made to my husband ("Well, I guess this conversation is over!"), I'll probably keep my distance from the co-op on Saturday mornings for a little while.

No really, I'm fine.

Not to say that it's an excuse, but I'm having a relatively sleepless oncall week, and had time to make a travel mug full of strong coffee this morning, but not lunch.

So, starving and jittery, I bought a cheeseburger and fries at the cafeteria at work, and I'd made it up the first flight of stairs on my way back towards my desk. Then the door to the first floor opened behind me and distracted me enough to trip on the next step. The next thing I knew I was on all fours on the steps, surrounded by crinkle fries and my upside-down cheeseburger. A couple of alarmed people entered the stairwell, and as I turned around to tell them I was okay, I realized my face was covered in ketchup. One of them handed me a napkin she happened to be holding, and I mopped up my face while scrambling to pick up my fries and excusing myself repeatedly. Miraculously, nothing got on my clothes, but I was told a few minutes later by a coworker that I had a small glob still on my eye.

Fortunately, perhaps because I'm so tired, I am more entertained than embarrassed. At least I got to hear a good spell of trademark Kevin-Laughter upon relating the story. Totally worth it.