my bag runneth over

Today it became official. Wednesday is my last day at CAT. As we know, times are tough in America. Nothing personal. It's the economy, stupid.

So I made some preparations.

The food bank on 7th & Van Buren. Take a number, fill out a form, make anti-establishment chitchat with the other patrons. When they call you up, hand over the form, sign another one, and basically take as much food as you can carry.

On my way to University of Oregon Human Resources to pick up some applications, I stopped at the bookstore to chat with some friends. I met Gwen and her practical cruiser. Coaster brake, kickstand, chainguard, fenders, wide saddle, low top-tube, basket, comfy handlebars.

Also, neat skull accents:

So anyway,

this bag is full of stuff.

Including job applications.

And free food.

Cookies, granola, bratwurst, yogurt, bread, beans, peanut butter, beef stew, rice, beets, potatoes, canned salmon.

Not five loaves of bread and two fishes, but enough for five thousand men, beside women and children.

They might only touch the hem of a messenger bag: and as many as touched were made perfectly whole.