Bounteous Garbage
Another great day in the bins…I was riding home from a screenwriting class on a bike Perfectly Unsuited For Gleaning (my roadie-Cunningham). This is the God-I’m-Late bike, a lightweight —a mon avis, 21 lbs is light–fleet non-utility bike that gets me to College of Marin in twenty minutes–close to my Bersonal Pest.
Of course, that’s assuming I hit the lights just right, or uh…shave time with socially-frowned-upon Illicit Momentum Protocols which can enrage car-bound witnesses, thereby inciting Irrational, Violent Venting Behaviors.
Then, three hours later with all the time in the world…I wonder if I can resist ogling the garbage. My deeply embedded peek-a-boo dumpster-checking habit is tough to break when the rewards are so consistently great.
I think: dress in good clothes, ride the race bike; that way, you won’t be able to carry anything.
Naah…the Pavlovian lattice (I don’t want to explain) exerts its effect, and I leap off the bike. No traffic, that’s good. Up go the sleeves of winter wool coat #14 (some day ask to see my collection) — and hope the cashmere/silk/burlap blend doesn’t brush the blackened side-walls of the “forlornucopia”.
There’s anabandoned plastic shop-lifting basket nearby, so I’ve something to haul the goodies home in…and home I weave. The basket is perched precariously on the left side of the handlebar held by my left hand, braking with the right.
It’s a bit of a circus act.
The inner economist/doomsayer reminds me that saving money so “Anathema/Blue Cross” can have more, and flying over the bars owing to nabbing food without using a Proper Bike With Panniers will not pencil out, cost-wise.
I hold my breath a lot.
Then I carefully pull over to the curb, change hands (now my braking hand is the left one, oh, my) and resume wobbling home.
For you, a picture is worth at least a dozen fine dinners, tonight: chicken pot pie without bottom crust. Recipe from NYT. More like a cobbler. Except it’s turkey I’ve got….J’adore turkey.
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Jacquie Phelan's Weblog 
Jackie you rock, we used to get stuff from behind our Trader Joe’s here but the food bank uses the stuff so we let it be now. Sadly the other stores round here use those closed system trash systems
I have to ask J is it out of necessity that you do this? I think not. That you are off to university and you have a computer and a connection… so.
It has to be one of three other things. Miserliness if that’s a word. I don’t think that’s you. Quirkiness, which is not so bad, or your recycling which is cool and green, which I’m wanting to believe is you.
-B
I am truly envious of all the dumpster-divers who can scavenge FOOD.
Born without olfactory sense — everything just smells like AIR* to me — means that this level of scavenging is simply too dangerous for me to attempt, so I stick to non-edibles.
(*On the plus side, I can’t smell farts, kitty litter or Camas, WA either; so it’s not a total loss).
Okay. Come on. Give. What kind of turkey did you find? Was it still frozen? Was it boneless, skinless, turkey breast? I’m not going to raid your dumpster, I just want more details.