In Which I Am Humbled for Just A Second

I spent most of Sunday gimping around the Amazing Apartment* going “Ow. Ow. Ow. Man, Saturday was fun. Ow.”

Saturday was not only the first day of spring, but the first Saturday shift at the Oregon Food Bank Learning Garden and I was there with sleepy bells on. I spent a lovely, sunny Oregon morning killing things deadheading collard greens, feeding the plucked flowers to the chickens, and toting compost for the folks prepping beds to be planted with peas. Lots of hard work equals muscles that are still feeling the burn on Monday morning. Ow.

We also harvested 40-something pounds of collards, and toted them to the warehouse to be donated. While that was going on, the other volunteers and myself perused the Giant Checks that had been given to the OFB. Couple of high schools, a couple of local corporations, and the second largest donation?

The Jeff Dunham Fund.

Yes, Jeff Dunham. The puppet guy. Ventriloquist. Racist jackass. Not very funny, and I am saying this as someone who saw his live act when I was a teenager in Reno, before the ‘dead jihadist’ puppet came about.

And briefly, I thought, “Well. Jeff Dunham’s not all bad.”

Very briefly.

*The AwesomeCave? Chez Mon Ewe? I need a good name for my new place. I’ve referred to the bedroom in the houses I’ve lived in before as the “Pit of Despair”, but that’s cause, you know, they WERE.

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2 Responses to In Which I Am Humbled for Just A Second

  1. [stares] [is confused] [lightbulb]
    Chez mon Ewe. [hysterical laughter]
    That? is awesome.

    • Mary Sue says:

      I cannot take the credit for that one, a long time ago on an Internet bulletin board far, far away, my nickname was WonderSheep and my ‘miga said I should open a restaurant with that name.

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