Actual conversation last night between me and guy unloading pick-up in driveway of apartment complex next to mine:
Him (in mumbly-Adam-Sandler voice): I don’t like people. Don’t talk to me again.
Monday, I’ll be working two jobs. First, the paying one (yes, I’m still at OHSU Medical Transcriptions). Then home early, probably followed by a nap and a refreshing shower. That’s to prepare for maybe five, six hours on my feet volunteering.
It’s for a good cause: Taste of the Nation, which raises money for the Oregon Food Bank. I’ve volunteered at this the past two years, helping to break down the auction at night’s end. I’ll be more involved this time, starting before the event even starts. It takes over the New Theatre Building in downtown Portland: four floors filled to bursting with cooking stations where chefs from dozens of Oregon restaurants serve their wares to the well-healed…and to us volunteers, too. Hey, we’ll need to keep up our strength!
Want some of that food? I’ll regurgitate it for you, y’know, the way birds feed their young. Yum, huh?