Fender benders and insurgent salad

I am back in Philadelphia, it’s my 28th birthday and I’m going to see Waitress tonight.  These are good things.

Yesterday was a very long day of travel, including a four hour flight next to a vomiting (four barf bags passed through his hands) seven year old, an already-long 3 hour layover in Detroit stretching into an improbable 4 & a half and an interminable wait for luggage.  Just when I thought I was in the clear and was finally going to get home, this happened.

The week in Portland flew by, culminating on Saturday with a six-hour garage sale in which I sold hundreds of books, about a quarter of the contents of my parents’ house and garage (believe me, it still doesn’t look empty) and watched many of the relics of my childhood walk away into other peoples’ lives.

The TSA people took away the Toby’s Tofu Pate that I had intended to eat for lunch at security yesterday morning.  I guess vegan egg salad is more subversive than I initally realized.  This event struck me in an emotionally tender place and the ridiculousness of it made me start to cry.  The man who had been in front of me in the security line waited for me just outside of the metal detectors, to make sure I was okay.  I stood there, half laughing and half crying at the insanity of confiscated tofu pate while he smiled supportively and patted my arm.  When he was sure I was going to be okay, he gave me a one-armed hug and wished me a safe flight.  It was one of the kindest encounters I’ve ever had with a stranger.

Each one of these things could have been their own post, but I’m still feeling a little scattered from cross-country travel and highway collisions, so this is about all I can manage at the moment.  I think that more thoughts will trickle out about the week I just spent in Portland and the freedom I feel at having gotten rid of so many things.

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