Diver Down!

Fore!

2009-06-30T11:19:00.000-07:00

That's golfer talk for you're about to get hit in the head with something. Last night I interjected myself into a conversation a couple of guys were having about golf. I was a great golfer for my age at eight, and I still possibly might be able to outperform some eight-year-olds. One of the duffers mentioned that he has no clubs and that the ones he borrows from his pastor are too short for his lanky frame.

I always find it remarkable that the thing on my mind is often what I find in dumpsters. New age people would attribute it to positive energy being returned in kind. Those of various differing faiths would have versions that might include God being mindful of our needs, or perhaps leaving little footprints in our lives to make us mindful of Him.

Irregardless.

Yesterday was the first time in about nine months that overtime was offered. I managed to get a couple of days by puting in for night shift. Days were out because with the mass layoffs the last several months, only old timers are left and OT is granted on a basis of senority. So I worked for twelve plus hours and found that the job is 150% more fun when you are paid time and a half. I was wound up on the adrenaline caused by sliding many tons sideways in the mud and getting paid extra to do it. I decided to chase the high with a dumpster excursion. Yes if I won the lottery I'd celebrate with a world dumpster diving tour.

Now I haven't priced clubs in, well, ever. (My dad bought me the three clubs in my junior glof bag back in the day.) I surmise, however that the 24 hours of overtime would probably get me a nice secondhand set if I was so inclined. Did I? Oh, Ye of little faith.

This reminds me of the manna from heaven story where what my family needed was found at exactly the right time in a dumpster I happend upon.

So with keywords of "Pastor" and "golf" the cosmic Google of dumpsters yielded interesting results.

I was dissapointed to find that the garbage man had beat me to the dumpsters based on the first lid I lifted, and the receiving door was shut. Not sure which door I was hoping for. Silly, I know.

I checked the next dumpster that seems to be more boxes, because this time I really do need some boxes. Lo, and BEHOLD!!!! Two golf bags with clubs in them. Hallelejuia. I still don't golf, but I am equipped! This is what I refer to in the classification of refuse streams as "neighbor trash." Ther

Bad news is I was apparently late for cookies and milk. Litterally.

There was gooey samonella laced cookie dough and dribbles of milk from leaking cartons in the bottom of the nearly empty dumpster. No, I didn't have Gill Grissom along to swab for pathogens. The reason for the cookie dough discard I was to find out later, fortunately not the hard way. Read on.

SO the milk was soured, spilled but not cryed over. The chocolate chips melted and sticky. Kind of foul smelling, the lot. (Takes the fine edge of delight of the excursion to have ones olefactory senses offended in a dumpster, but it happens.)

So, now I had an excuse to enter the store for cleaning supplies unrelated to stalking the cute clerk/dockworker. Hmm there is some dissonance between my image of the lovely Miss (Surely not Mrs?) Nametagless and the common connotation with dockworker.

I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me. I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.I will not stalk the clerk just for being pleasant to me.

I little pennace is good for the soul. I admit I was a bit dissapointed that she also wasn't working the registers.

I spent $6 on a couple of rolls of paper towels, and a spray bottle of the antibacterial version of Formula 409. (Drop me a line if you work for them and want to send me a case of it or maybe a case of cash for the plug.) I cleaned the outside of the golf bags enough that I deighned to put them in my car to take them home for more thourough refurbishment.

I found I had to clean the car a bit as well, and imagined what my 14 year old would say about my sprucing up the interior of 'her' car (She has paid $86 of very hard earned babysitting money towards its eventual purchase. Im driving it because it has no exhaust leak to give away a stealthy stalk, and it gets 40-50 mpg.) I practiced my lie. "Well I have to keep it clean in case I run into any blonds with big boobs. I must (as per usual and with the usual parenthetical asides) digress a bit here to explain. When I bought my mid-life crisis car, my (now soon to be sadly, ex-wife) said, "As long as it doesn;t involve a Blonde with Big Boobs, go ahead and have your midlife crisis. My daughter knows the story and when a brief discussion was held about the (far distant, remote) prospect of me dating someone in the future, she had said, "If you show up with a Blond with Big Boobs, I'm running screaming out of here." Left out of that discussion is why I didn't tell my wife that when you hit your midlife crisis, steer clear of burly, long-haired, bearded, husky, biker dudes. Also left out was why my daughter didn't run screaming when my wife drug such a "paramor" (and I used the term with GREAT license here!) she didn't run screaming.

Anyway enter stage right an actual Blond (actual, not necessarilly natural) with, well fairly ample mammalian protruberances or at least silocoln facsimiles of same. Not that I am knocking her er, knockers, they were nicely proportional, and she was smartly dressed and didn't return my smile directly but the corner of her mouth twitched up at my double take. I'm pretty sure that wasn't the first time she'd had a male look in her direction. I actually considered running her down and explaining that, although she is clearly attractive, my grin was at the weird coincidence of thinking the phrase Blond with Big Boobs and having one appear. I quickly thought of a stack of money and whirled, but know luck. Well, yet.

I fought the losing battle to not crane my neck around and have her drag my eyes with her all the way in to the store. I fixate on the oddest things. I noticed the left tie on her capris dangled on her calf. My eye ratched up a bit and came in line with two employees lingering at the entrance. I stared past the blond and there was Miss (I'm sure) Nametagless! In the very doorway I had just come through a minute or two before. Weird. Maybe she's stalking me.

I felt RIDICULOUS as I both tried to avoid staring in the direction of the blond, and looking like I was stalking my stalker. All the while, I still feel a little like I am being faitul to my cheating wife (and I mean cheating wife in the descriptive sense, not perjoratively.) Arrgh!

A friend often tells people that although I don't have a 'drinkin' problem, I have a serious 'thinkin' problem.

I felt pahetic as I went into the store, passing MS. NTL (much snappier moniker don;t you think?) Like I'm 14 at the dance, I want to say high to her, and I can't thnk of what to say after hi so I say nothing and hope she doesn't notice me trying not to be noticed.

I go in and browse magazines. I am way to cheap to buy one with libraries full of books and an entire interweb being filled with content even as I type. I suddenly remeber that in my trip for the supplies into the grocery story, I had gotten no groceries and I had nothing to make my lunch with for tommorow (tonight?) night. Shift work is bewildering.

I decide enough is enough, I go straight to the ham, grab a pack, then with out deviation to the bread, which happened to be next to an entrance to the loading area. I am weak. I looked. No joy. (Hey that might be a good name for her..hmm)

Soldiering on I grab mustard (the cheap store brand) and head straight for the register. Reaching my place in line I rotate a 1/4 turn to allign with the rest of the sheeple and in my periphery, there is Joy! Wow magic. Weird.

She smiles in what was either recognition, wary unease, or standard store policy greating smile. If that is company issue, they aren' paying her enough. Pretty decent wattage and to the desparate, the sincerity is self-evident if you need to believe bad enough.

I skipped straight to full on motor mouth 5th gear. In a tremendous rushs she seemed to follow. (And she is bright too! Anyone that can follow me is clearly exceptionaly gifted in intellect. pat yourself on the back brave reader for making it this far.)

I couldn;t give you verbatim. I barely have time enough in a day to speak the volume I do, let alone recount all of it and running commentary beside. I basically explained that I got there after the garbage man, but that after that someone had dumped some clubs. I explained that I was just talking clubs the night before and well, it would have been simpler If I'd written the blog, printed it, then found the clubs so that when I ran into her It could be succinctly laid out for her to read.

I reminded her that I had explained that I had a blog about diving, and let her know that if I had any readers she would be semi-famous because I had written up our last couple of encounters. She said something that sounded cheerful, and not at all creeped out as I had imagined she might. I hesitantly suggested, "I should print it out and bring it in so you can see yourself (nameless) in print.

"Yes, do!" she smiled.

Trying (and failing) to look at the signs objectively, I think she is allowing me to be encouraged. I honestly don't know where to go with that. I have no plans for my future other than to keep my chin up, meet lots of people and not rush into anything that smacks of rebound. That seems unfair to the other person, as well as limiting myself when I have no idea what I would look for in a friend, date, or whatever.

I scripted a whole approach in my head.

"You know, you really should dine with me sometime from my foraging. I promise a good meal filled with adventure. Think of the possibilities. Either this gives you a GREAT "how we met" story, or a "weirdest date I EVER agreed to" story."

If I had any readers, it would be nice to know if any know a good stalker defense lawyer.

Second Date?

2009-06-11T15:17:00.000-07:00

I hadn't decided what exactly I would do with the beer, but had decided that it was too much money sitting there to waste. I couldn't have taken it last night through the gates to work, because it is a fireable offense to have alcohol on the property. (Even locked in the car.)

I went back this morning to retrieve it. I saw my friendly receiving dock attendant sitting just inside the back door. She gave a wave, and I had a little schoolboy flutter. I backed up to the dumpster and got out. She said something but I couldnt hear after a night over 2,300 throbbing diesel powered horses. I approached about half way to hear her repeat, "they just took it", meaning that the garbage truck had beat me to the dumpster.

"Oh," I said, with nothing more to say, and no real excuse to hang around. "You'll have to let the rest of it go to the dump for the next few days since i'm off work for a few days and won't be back up." Dumb, but I was freestyling here.

In hindsight I should have asked her if she wanted to run away with me to the big city hours away to dive exotic dumpsters for a couple of days. I wasn't that socially adept 17 years ago, and being off the market that long hasn't sharpend my skills.

Possibly why dumpsters are oft associated with skid row.

2009-06-11T14:55:00.000-07:00

Last night I went by the dumpster again on the way into work. No produce this time but there was beer. Lots of beer.

There were bottles of Miller lime. Apparently my hard drinking co-workers prefer corona and actual lime to St. Louis counterfeits. There were also large cans of something called Ice House, apparently designed for two drinkers wanting to use both fists on one can. Never noticed cans of that proportion, but I am not a drinker.

As a teetotaler, this is not a great find for me, but in ordinary circumstances I would have grabbed it anyway. Its not like I don;t have friends that have or would like to develop a drinking problem. My wife had a similar brew with our oldest son's friends and reported liking the hint of lime in Bud Light Lime. Not sure whether it would be a good idea or not to take them to her. Not sure what that would say. She partied in her younger days in her hometown (where we live now). She gave up drinking entirely when she found she was expecting our oldest child. She had described herself as a problem drinker. Not an alcoholic, but simply a that couldn't say no to another. 2-3 were enough to wipe her out, but she regretted not stopping at say a beer and a half. Regardless, when I met her she hadn't had a drink for almost two years and continued her abstinence for the next 19 years that I have known her. She had a beer or two at the county fair here in her hometown last year and has resumed the occasional recreational beverage. I have been concerned but clumsy about how to express my support of her without condoning.

I never drank even a sip till we moved here. I have had a handful of drinks to show I don't look down on her drinking, but that misguided effort fell flat as she knows my heart isn't in it and can't let her hair down and enjoy a drink or two in my presence. She took to going out when I work night shift with her new found enthusiastic drinking buddies. I expressed some concern about that on many levels including the perception that a woman in a bar while her husband is at work sends a message of availability. She was understandably offended at the implication. Not my intention but its really tough to express concerns about this direction without giving offense.

Country music has been devastating me lately as I work the night shift. "I want my life back" by Bucky Covington played as the set up last night right before a song by Jimmy Wayne that seems apt. She was open and truthful with me about the fun she was having at the bar once frequented by a Supreme Court Justice. (No kidding!) She discovered shes a better pool player with a drink or two in her. She reported that the guys there are "so nice." This didn't reassure me. They were respectful. She was above reproach. She fell in love.

I can't help but blame alcohol in general and the lack of anything but bars in this small town specifically. There is obviously a lot more to the story including my own soul searched regrets about not making her feel valued and encouraging her objectification, but seeing this coming and not being able to get out of the way has been wrenching.

Jimmy Wayne More CMT Music More CMT Music Videos

Banana Bread!

2009-06-11T14:47:00.000-07:00

My next visit to the dumpster, while less successful socially, (The loading dock was deserted) was a veritable cornucopia of produce. OK there were no squash or for that matter any manner of autumnal harvest extant in the find but I grabbed two boxes of decent looking produce. One was a case of bananas which were ripe, but not overly so. Also were more bell peppers some large Idaho Russets and some quite ripe tomatoes.

I chopped up a couple of peppers to munch on during my long night shift, had a banana for breakfast and got some shut-eye. If don't recall if I dreamed of Rigid s in my fitful daytime sleep.

Diving and Dating?

2009-06-11T14:13:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in the last post I finally started diving again despite my usual reluctance to do so when financial circumstance make it an even better idea. As mentioned in the last post I found some bell peppers for a stir fry.

I cruised up to the dumpster in my loud (chronic exhaust leak) little mid-life crisis import. I was disappointed to see the rear receiving door open. That means employees.

My usual aplomb out of practice I decided to check and see if it was worth a possible confrontation, using the divers stand-by "Just checking for boxes..." if necessary.

As I stopped an attractive woman came careening out of the bay with an empty pallet on the forklift she was operating. I am sure she would have been attractive in say an evening gown competition as well, but what is it about a woman competently wielding a piece of equipment that is incongruently sexy? Must be the influence of those old cheesecake Rigid Tools pinups. ~shrug~

Anyway it has been a harried month of working and then moving once again the things I just moved here from our old house to my new place. I haven't had a chance to reflect much on my prospects for dating in my upcoming singleton future. I had vaguely thought about various 'passing in the street' crushes over the years, and wondering what it will be like not to have to feel disloyal to my wife to pursue those avenues of thought, not to mention the scary prospect of pursuing actual women.

I was keeping an eye in her direction as much for looks of disapproval about my trespassing a much as her aesthetic appeal. I grabbed a random box out of the dumpster and placed it as clever subliminal signal atop my car. "Hey look I'm grabbing a few boxes. I am harmless."

A heard a bit of a crash and then an "Ooops!" I look over and she is reversing course nervously looking over her shoulder to see what she had backed into. Remembering a time I had backed into the beam above a receiving door with my forks extended too high, I could help but laugh. I ambled over, sure for some reason that my story about that recollection would be topical and witty. As I related the story she seemed to be listing intently with a sparkle of humor in her smoky eyes. (Most likely it was a wary "flight or flight" attentiveness she was actually projecting as she did a risk assessment on crazy dumpster guy.

We agreed that nothing at all had happened here and the crushed rodent control 'thingy' must have just disintegrated entirely on its own.

For reasons of my need currently and historically for validation, I felt the urge to explain my presence without pretense at the dumpster. I explained, hesitantly but with a vulnerable pride that I was diving. I regaled her briefly with a couple of dive anecdotes. (Though brief is obviously not my strong suit.)

She continued her warm smile, and I felt some acceptance.

I needed that.

Not exactly a date per se, but it felt good to know that there is apparently a wide world of cuties out there that may not run screaming at my social graces.

Update Ramble

2009-06-11T13:42:00.000-07:00

Been a long time since I have updated this Blog. The job I took a year and a half ago takes long hours (up to 15 hours a day including commute) and takes place outside of a small town that one would think would have few opportunities for diving. I, naturally had done a bit of scrounging, mostly on the job of things destined to be wasted. Can't think of many examples at the moment.

Sadly, after 17 years of marriage my wife and I are headed for a divorce. It isn't the first time she has felt that way, but this time she has chosen to move on, and I have rented a cute little pink house for the kids and I. We had recently bought a little house in the country for $44k with only $1750 down and a reasonable payment of $750 a month for a year then only $550 for the remaining 10 years of the note. This was to be the replacement for the most recent chapter of my real estate investing saga. I had been a home owner for the last 24 years when at age 19 I purchased my first home. I have a long track record of buying at the top of the market. This time I leverage to the hilt at the top, then found myself marginally employed (hence the move to where I am now and the blue collar job.) When the job cut back the overtime and the per diem pay for those with out of area residences, the house had to go. I went from $6.5K to $8K in take home a month to $2,400. Kind of tough to pay a first and second mortgages totaling $2,600 and live well on the negative $200 a month discretionary portion. I was, at first feeling put upon to give up the new house to my wife, but on reflection, the loss happened when the market crashed, and my investment out his is minimal in dollar amount, even if it was a great emotional salve to have a place to go to to call my own. I think it is for the best. Financially I always land on my feet, and will recover. This way she has a place of her own for her time with the kids. We are sharing custody of the four youngest with the oldest at 20 ostensibly fending for himself. Minus the occasional outburst of emotion I am sure are common in we are proceeding as amicably as we can. (Fingers crossed.) I love her still, but have to let her do what she feels she needs to do to take care of herself.

Anyway, on to the point of this blog, the diving. There is one grocery store in the town. It is a chain specific to my state that was started by thrifty Lebanese immigrants at the turn of the century. In my old major metropolitan city, I found that they didn't have the best produce stocked in their dumpster. I had theorized that the reason is that they do a lot of baking and prep work at each actual store location for their deli and fresh bakery items.

The choicest dove for items at any grocery store are perishables that are odd-sized, or nicked or otherwise usable, but not attractive in appearance. I think they wisely grab those things for their deli salads, and sandwiches and so forth.

I went a couple of days ago and found only a couple of bell-peppers. I made a nice stir fry for the kids. This was the second visit of the day. The first visit before my 12.5 hour shift yielded nothing but I did run into another hard core diver. I recognized him as such from his broomstick with a hook affixed to it. I eschew such conveniences, preferring the belly-busting classic divers head-down-feet up pose. After shift there was one over ripe avocado, some rotten tomatoes and the peppers. Slim pickings, but satisfying to find something.

One of the things I have noticed about my diving trends over the years is that I am still a bit psychologically averse to the poverty such activity connotes. When I have been truly without material wants, I dive with real aplomb. When times are lean I look over my shoulder more and feel less than socially acceptable.

On a logical basis, lean times are the best reason to dive, but I struggle. Nationally of course the recession has hit hard. In our major city, my wife recently drove one of the main streets when back for a visit and relate3d to me many of the places that had gone under in the year and a half since we left. The most surprising to me in this downturn was the Army-Navy surplus store that had been an institution since just after World War II. You would think that they would thrive in a down turn. Maybe the shabby chic look of Uncle Sam's olive drab is being avoided by people trying their best to look presentable on a shoestring in favor of Chinese imports at WalMart. Thrift stores I have seen seem busy, but with customers leaning towards the out of date versions of fashionable brands. Slumming isn't as cool when we all live in foreclosure riddled neighborhoods.

The next post was actually the reason I went to the library to have a chance to jot down.

Stopped for a snack.

2008-01-28T19:32:00.000-08:00

I was coming home after an extremely long day. 12 hours with the persistant vibration of an immense diesel under me, followed by a slow and careful 4 hour trip home in a car capable of twice the speed. I knew the last few miles would take me past my green-grocer as I like to call the dumpster behind Safeway.

I decided a little fresh fruit would make a nice snack for after the anticipated welcome home. I was actually leaning into the dumpster when my wife called again to see how I was progressing on packing and preparing for the trip home which was to be the next day. I lied again for the 6th or 7th time that night and dashed home with a box of fruit and a grin.

The Diver's Christmas...

2007-12-26T01:21:00.000-08:00

The kids thought every day was Christmas when I was diving heavily a few years ago. Any given night could bring new toys and interesting modern urban artifacts. I slowed down and then stopped entirely when I nearly got caught and had to lead some cops on a merry chase. Not that the diving itself was an issue, but my five vehicle, a P.O.S. suburban had no valid plates. I have had various phony and semi-phony plates on it for the entire roughly 6 years I have owned it. I dumped $3500 into it and it never did pass emissions. I think it would now except for a smog pump, but I am loathe to spend any more money on it. I once put it up on eBay. A good running Chevy small block 'crate' (factory replacement) 350 with a NEW Edelbrock Carburetor should have been worth more than the top bid of $600 so I never did sell it. I had some outstanding tickets and a suspended license from said tickets so I had to balance the risk of finding myself once again in lock-up over what I might find in the trash.

I think I mentioned previously that I am more inclined to see diving as a fun pursuit, a modern anthropological excursion when I don't "need" anything. When times are tight it can really help supplement, and I have no conscious qualms about providing for my family in that way, but sub-consciously it digs at the psyche a bit.

I have been virtually unemployed for two year, living off a healthy home equity credit line, telling myself each month that I had to dig deeper for professional licensing fees, data, software, business insurance, hardware, gas, communication points etc, that next month will be different and the income will exceed the expenses. It never happened. I have an upcoming job that pays one tenth the hourly rate of my profession, but it has benefits and a steady paycheck even though the hours are horrendous, I am looking forward to being gainfully employed.

Mean time, I have no cash and no way to get cash. I got some help from the church with a mortgage payment, and knowing our dire circumstances they passed the hat and came up with several hundred dollars towards Christmas. Their generosity overwhelms us. I smiled that we didn't spend that much in a good year. (Although we probably did, it just is harder to notice where it all goes when several checking accounts debit cards, credit cards and cash are involved.) I resolved we wouldn't spend it all and have a cushion after wards. We spent it all. pretty much. We had already purchased at very low cost several nice items for Christmas, including the Knives below, a Gray's Anatomy (the anatomical dissection book not the show) Book, and other relevant volumes to the kids interests, clothing, games, and small toys. I had my car packed with items that were dove for, stuffed animals mostly. Never buy a stuffed animal they are thrown out by the train load. A little carpet cleaner and elbow grease and they are clean and fresh as they were the day they were packed into a box in a dirty sweatshop in a third world country.

Christmas Trees are something I have always scrounged. Usually in the forest. But with gas at $3 a gallon I cant justify spending $60 in gas to get a free tree. We often buy the tree on Christmas eve if we have to. This is usually done when we don't have a vehicle we trust to take up to the cold. For $5 at closing time you can get the trees that they will have to pay to dispose of the next day. This time I went later, after they closed. This season there weren't nearly as many lots. Many locations that have lights strung up and an RV selling them were out of business this year. The nearest lot was completely bare. I finally found one, stacks of trees, the salesman asleep in his truck. Up and over the fence and back with an 8' spruce. I hope when he wakes he appreciates the fact that he has one less to haul to the dump.

2007-12-19T17:41:00.000-08:00

Culinary experimentation.

One of the fun things about diving is that you find yourself in the kitchen with a box of random produce. For example I once found a bunch of Jerusalem Artichokes. I didn't have any idea what they were had to look them up to find out that they were neither from Jerusalem nor were they in the artichoke family. They are in fact tubers like potatoes or yucca root. The come from the root system of a variety of sunflower plant. After searching for recipes, I cooked them up and they were delicious. I have never seen them before or since in a store. ~shrug~

SO tonight I was looking at a box of sweet Vidalia onions. Eating fairly healthy lately I wasn't going to deep fry them, but I had a hankering for onion rings. I sliced them, sprayed them with Pam and then dredged them in flour (from the survival stash I dove for a couple of weeks ago). I had seasoned the flour with seasoned salt. I baked at 350 for a while. They weren't crisping so I raised it to 400. Meanwhile I cut another up Blooming Onion style. I gave it the same treatment and baked it for a little longer.

Tasted good, not as crisp as I would have liked, and a little bit of an flour-y taste. The beauty of this is I didn't spend $2.50 a lb to find out if the recipe would work. Peeling them is easier to if you waste an extra layer or two, which costs nothing since they were free. I think next time I'm going to try a batter made with corn muffin mix. What gave me that idea is that I once found an entire case of Jiffy brand muffin mix. The case had been water damaged at one corner so I tossed those boxes and ate the rest. Unfortunately those are long gone. Thats the thing about diving. Manna aside, it isn't like shopping you don;t plan menus and take a list, you get the stuff and then adapt your meals to include what inspires you from what is on hand.

Culinary experimentation.

2007-12-19T17:05:00.000-08:00

Diving, you find yourself in the kitchen with a box of random produce. I once found a bunch of Jerusalem Artichokes. I looked them up to find out that they were neither from Jerusalem nor were they in the artichoke family. They are tubers like potatoes or yucca root. They come from the roots of sunflower plants. I cooked them up and they were delicious. I've never seen them before or since in a store. ~shrug~

Tonight, looking at a box of sweet Vidalia onions, I had a hankering for onion rings. I, sprayed the slices with Pam then dredged in flour with seasoned salt. I baked at 400 approx 10 minutes. I cut another up Blooming Onion style. I gave it the same treatment and baked it for a little longer.

Tasted good, not as crisp as I would have liked, and a little bit of an flour-y taste. The beauty of this is I didn't spend $2.50 a lb to find out if the recipe would work. I think next time I'm going to try a batter made with corn muffin mix like the case of Jiffy brand muffin mix I found . Manna aside, it isn't like shopping you don't plan menus and take a list, you get the stuff and then adapt your meals to include what inspires you from what is on hand.

An edged beauty in the scap pile.

2007-12-16T18:10:00.000-08:00

I regularly go to Goodwill (Thrift Store) on dollar day, but for items that are close to a dollar anyway, every other Saturday is better because its 50% off day. I was browsing kitchen utensils looking for Chinese cookware to go with a nice Chinese cuisine primer I bought for the twelve year old for 50% of $1.99. I found a strainer, and as I tend to do I browsed knives and found as per usual nothing but cheap stainless steel knives. Stainless is actually a great material for a knife from a metallurgical point of view. It resists oxidation and is pretty hard on the hardness scale so once sharpened (pretty much need a diamond wheel to do it) it holds an edge for longer than most other knives, hence the claims of "lifetime" knives. This works until the knife finally wears (actually the edge tends to fold over ever so slightly) and the owner has no diamond hone to true up the edge again. It occurs to me I should check the dumpster at Goodwill, since they undoubtedly throw away the better quality high-carbon steel blades because one of the characteristics of high carbon steel besides the ease of honing it to a fine edge is that it oxidizes easily if not used frequently. When they get them they probably appear rusty, which is why there are never any good chef's knives in the cutlery bin.

This time however I found two Santoku Knives. I should have taken a "before picture" but I forgot to. Some Nimrod had used these extremely high quality molybdenum vanadium steel implements of destruction to pry with and had snapped the tip off of both and bent one of them in a discernible curve. Being the last of a long line of blacksmiths, I reached for my trusty sledge. I couldn't find it. I found a hardened crankshaft from a bicycle. Since the harness scale for the heat treated crank exceeds CMV steel of the blade it would work. I dragged it over to my anvil. Wait I don;t own one of those..do you know they sell for $1 to $4 a pound???? and they are REALLLLY heavy. I went to the top of my 1950's era Sears Roebuck Table saw. The Cast iron top is heat treated so its fairly hard, the knife will likely dig in to the surface a little (It did) but, that will just add to the charm of the antique.

The blade now straight and work hardened was ready for the next step. I then broke out the 7" grinder, placed it on the floor..(mine has a backing collar that makes it ideal for this work this is an honest to goodness old made in America Ingersoll-Rand one. I laughed at the thief that stole my $100 Chinese made air compressor and left the several hundred dollar grinder behind.) I got a large tall vase and filled it with water. I needed that to quench the steel between passes. If I had overheated the blade it would have annealed (softened) the steel. It is a long and complicated process to heat temper a blade if you have to do it by hand. I reshaped the blade, following more or less the original lines. I ended up with knives maybe a 1/4 to 1/2 inch shorter but properly shaped. Balance wasn't particularly noticeable since these aren't throwing knives anyway.

I plan on gifting one of these to the 12 year old, and saving the other for the 8 year old for when I think he is ready to begin edged weapon...I mean kitchen prep training. She will love the time with Dad in the kitchen and she seems to be gifted in that way anyway. She isn't really old enough to fully appreciate the true value of this knife bought for $.98 and a couple of hours of my labor of love re-shaping it. In parts of Asia such knives are revered as the highest achievement of thousands of years of forearm-rippling, furnace-heat-bearing craftsmanship.

Oh, and completely off topic - the backdrop is finely woven virgin wool in a sport coat from a custom men's wear shop from Virginia. The price? $1

Sherrif's task force.

2007-12-15T02:50:00.000-08:00

I did some grocery shopping at 8:30 because we needed some things right then. As always I checked the bin behind finding as I expected that it was too early for the produce, bakery, and deli culls.

I was going to go back just after 10, but some marital canoodling delayed me till after 1:00 am. The grocery had a couple of self-rising pizzas in there packages tat needed to be popped in an oven soon, 3 racks of ribs, 2 meat loafs, some fried chicken and two huge roast turkey breasts. The dogs are going to eat better than we are this week.

I am tempted to see if the smoked ribs can be salvaged for human consumption. That seems dicey. IN these situations, I use my stomach as the guinea pig. My highly developed olfactory receptors haven't failed me ye, and I will probably err on the side of caution there. I baked the pizza's, fed the dogs some hot wings and fried chicken that I de-boned for them. I have a plate of deli sandwich innards for their breakfast prepared.

I also got several pounds of hand made, marinated mozzarella in individual vacuum sealed packages. I have a chunk of that marinating in my stomach at the moment with no ill effects.

Christmas is coming and it is a very lean year. I decided to hit the drugstore for Christmas bric-a-brac that they tend to throw away this time f year. As expected I got several strings of lights, candy canes and a little three pronged massager that one of my daughter always wants to buy from the impulse bin next to the register. I got three of them, one works, one probably has dead batteries and the third is good for parts.

Encouraged, I drive another 3 miles to the next one that usually has parallel culls. As I pull into the deserted parking lot I see a couple of old-style hawgs with the lights and fairings driven by a couple of burly shapes going the other direction. The turn in with me and hit the lights. I wasn't expecting that. The local police drive Kawasaki's and BMW's/ Yurns out it was some of Sheriff Joe's finest out looking for holiday drunks. This seems a worthy pursuit so I don't give them too much attitude. I try a little obfuscation with them though when they inquire about my destination and plans for the evening. It really isn't any of their business and I have no legal responsibility to tell them, nor do they have a right to expect an answer. We established together that I hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, that I lived about 8 miles North of where they had detained me. Despite the fact that again it is none of their business, I listed one of my planned destinations, omitting a couple of planned stops for dumpster in between. Slightly suspicious, the younger one asked how I had come to decide to get gas in my car at 1:30 in the morning. I explained that I hadn't I had noticed it low as I ran other errands. Tiring of the exercise, though I could have kept verbally entangled if I had wished to, I decided to out with it. I explained that my primary mission for the night was dumpster diving. The older cop smiled, having no doubt seen a reasonably articulate and apparently not indigent diver before. The younger was puzzled but didn't know what to say to that.

Had they come upon me actually in the dumpster ignoring the no trespass signs the conversation would have been about the same but with a bit of explanation of what it is I intend to do with my finds and a caveat about my ethics in general about privacy issues and leaving the surroundings as I find them or better. I have had maybe a dozen conversations with cops in the middle of the night over the years in and around dumpsters and it generally goes amicably.

Later I found several stuffed animals, some more legos, and misc toys that may or may not be something that will interest Santa's elves.

Boots and Heels.

2007-12-08T16:41:00.001-08:00

My wife grew up in a small town where cowboy boots were de rigueur She had a pair of good quality pointy tipped style boots when she was 13. Three to four years later the boots had held up but local fashion, slow moving as it was, had moved on. Justin "Ropers" were the boots to have. They come to mid calve and had rounded toes and frills. This was when Urban Cowboy came out and the country folk were going out of their way not to look like that. No fancy stitching or adornment of any kind. She wanted a pair too.

Her family couldn't afford Genuine Justin Roper's so they got the next best thing for about $125 she was proud to own a pair of ACME (like the coyote's supplier) "Ropers". This was a birthday present they got her even though they were rolling change to meet the mortgage. So she loved those boots.

As of late we have considered moving to the country. My new job will take me out there every other week as it is. The 12 year-olds biggest hesitation about moving out to the country is the lack of dumpsters, but I think she'll adjust to scrounging off the land when I show her how.

I haven't dove much lately, so I thought I'd write about some earlier finds. The first pair of serious grown-up heels that the 12 year old got came from a dive. She still gets compliments on them. She now has at least a dozen pairs at least 1/2 or more of them came from various dives. If not for the first dove-for pair I might have vetoed the idea of a 12 year old in heels.

One night we found some shoes of various descriptions and what looked like a plain pair of boots. I got them home and they were - you guessed it - a pair of Genuine Justin Ropers in my wife's size. Today we found me a pair of Gen-you-wine Justin "Western" pointy toed boots at a thrift store for $7, which wasn't free but cheap at twice the price as it were.

Here we are in our dove-for and thrift-store finest! Now, when I have an assignment out in the country, I have "dirt road cred". I think I will include our thrifting finds on this blog too in the future rather than starting yet another blog about that subject.

Dumpster diving in a hand-made English suit.

2007-11-25T14:23:00.000-08:00

We do a lot of shopping on Thursdays at Goodwill when every item with a certain colored tag is $1. On one of those days, I bought a great Saville Row style suit that was hand tailored at a high end hotel in British Hong-Kong. I wore it to church today. I generally eschew diving for manna on the Sabbath, but I make exceptions.

As we are leaving the parking lot, I see someone has draped an area rug over the edge. I pulled up to the dumpster, mostly screening the view from the building, had the kids open the sliding door and hop in the back out of the way. I envisioned stuffing it in and going in seconds. I remembered my suit. I ditched the jacket and handed it in through the door. I went to grab the rug but it was hung up on some also "neighbor trashed" cheap assemble -it-yourself furniture pieces. I finally worked it loose and bundled it into the van with a cloud of dust...It apparently wasn't vacuumed before discarding. People have no sense of propriety when it comes to the care of items before placing them in my path.

I got it home and laid it out in the driveway. I used some laundry detergent and a stiff brush on the few faint spots, and hosed it off. It cleaned up nice. I kind of wonder if the people that tossed it will see it out to dry as they drive by.

New Family Room Set...

2007-11-23T16:27:00.000-08:00

No Interest, No payments, till, well NEVER!

Someone "neighbor trashed" two serviceable wingtip chairs. Now we have to donate something in our overstuffed house to make room. We have a very comfortable double recliner couch that we bought from Craig's list for $20. It will probably go. We found a charity that runs a warehouse for the needy. Their clients are mostly starting over perhaps finally getting an apartment after being homeless a while or fleeing domestic violence.

Much as I appreciate finding quality goods in my favorite dumpster, I can't be there very night to catch the easy pop-flies. People are so lazy and worse than lazy is stupidly wasteful. It is MORE work to risk a $500 fine and ILLEGALLY dump things, when any number of charities will pick it up from your house!

I just donated 12 T-shirts, 3 Levis,5 dress slacks, a coat, a sweatshirt, 2 CD Towers, and an overstuffed chair. All of them were dumpster finds.

The Apple of my Pie.

2007-11-23T14:57:00.000-08:00

Cheated and spent 58 cents on some Jiffy brand pie crust mix.

You just add 3-4 tablespoons of cold water and cut in with a pastry whisk or fork. I formed two equal balls and rolled one for the bottom crust and cut the other into strips for the top lattice work with a pizza wheel. The trimmings I re-rolled for the apple medallion.

Any apples will work but Granny Smiths or Fujis or some other tart crisp variety is best. As divers cannot be choosers, I used what was available. 4 Golden Delicious and 4 Gala apples. I peeled them, cored them and sliced them in 1/8 inch slices. I arranged them in the bottom of the pie.

Meanwhile I preheated the oven to 425 degrees.

In a sauce pan I added:

1/2 cup of butter, melted
3 tablespoons flour mixed into melted butter to form paste.
1/2 cup each of brown sugar and white sugar.
1/4 cup water
Spices to taste. I like nutmeg, cinnamon, and allspice.

Then I brought to a full rolling boil then took off the heat.

I poured over the apples.

Next I built the lattic work. Over under, over, under....

add the apple,

brush with a little beaten egg.

Bake at 425 degrees for 15 minutes then reduce heat to 350 for 35 minutes more.

Eat, preferably ala mode.

Cranberry Bread Pudding

2007-11-23T14:29:00.000-08:00

TRADITIONAL BREAD PUDDING with CRANBERRIES

6 (day-old) glazed cinnamon rolls.
6 (day-old) bear-claw pastries.

Preferably fresh from the bakery department discards. Dice into 3/4 inch cubes. spread on a tray and toast in a 350 degree oven for 10 minutes or so till dry and stale tasting. (You see, if fresh from the dumpster you have to work at it to get them to taste stale, otherwise, nuke them for 10 seconds each and enjoy in their original form.)

Combine basic custard recipe until sugar dissolves:

4 cups whole milk.
8 eggs, beaten
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 tablespoon vanilla, I like the Mexican version.
1 cup sugar

Spread out cubed pastries in a large baking dish. maybe 10x13 or so.

Sprinkle over the top:

1/2 cup of dried sweetened cranberries.

Pour custard mixture gently over the top. Press any floaters down to saturate all the pastry. Place uncovered in a 350 degree oven for 45 minutes.

Enjoy the corner pieces before anyone else gets them with a dollop of wHipped cream.

NO ONE??!!!!

2007-11-23T14:17:00.001-08:00

No one in the whole wide web was searching desperately for recipes from the dumpster? Not even for the carbon footprint reducing factor of not only NOT using additional fuel to produce ones food, but also saving the carbon that is required to lift the entire dumpster to the compactor truck and then cart it all the way to the dump where it rots and produces methane?

I think it is just an inconvenient truth that diving is the best way to save the environment.

Diner went well, with plenty of leftovers. The best was the dumpster bread pudding with cranberries.

I'll add the recipe later.

Diving for Dinner.

2007-11-22T12:58:00.000-08:00

The average nationally spent on Thanksgiving is something like $65 for the basic meal. I took my oldest daughter diving last night. We got:

Flowers for the table.
Three loaves of crusty french bread to cube for stuffing.
Two ready-made pumpkin pies perfect except the pieces of the edge crust that had cracked.
A dozen orange, red and green peppers.
Two large packages of portabella mushrooms.
Four onions.
A zucchini
Three Cucumbers
Four nice ripe on the vine tomatoes.
A bunch of fresh spinach
A head each of Romaine and Iceberg lettuce.
Two bags of carrots, one mini peeled for snacking, one whole length.
A bag of donuts for breakfast while we cooked.
A bag of cinnamon rolls and bear claws to make bread pudding with.
Eight apples for a pie.
Half dozen sweet potatoes.
Ten pounds of Idaho Russet potatoes.

The only thing I couldn't find on "the list" was celery and cranberries.

A couple of days ago I dove for 59 number ten size cans of longterm storage items. I got several cans each of flour, sugar, dried apples, dried carrots, rice, powdered milk.

For dinner I defrosted a turkey that has been in the deep-freeze since the sale on turkeys last Christmas. It was just fine. I only had to buy eggs, butter, milk (could've used powdered, but whole milk is richer), some dried and some fresh cranberries, some sage and vanilla because I was out. I could've made my own pie crust, but I spent 52 cents on jiffy mix.

I also used a pound of ground beef to make some sausage for my sausage stuffing. I added sage, fennel seeds, garlic salt, pepper for seasoning. I then mixed in chopped celery, bell peppers in orange and green, onions, portobellas and the toasted, cubed french bread. Made great stuffing.

For bread pudding, I diced and toasted cinnamon rolls and bear claws, and then poured a mixture or 8 eggs, 4 cups whole milk, t teas cinnamon, 1/2 cup each brown and white sugar and some vanilla. I added dried cranberries at my wife's suggestion instead of raisins that was really good.

So the math turkey $12 plus electricity to keep it cold a year and the rest probably less than $10. I figure I saved 2/3 diving for the rest.

Not really relevant to the dinner, but while we were out we saw some illegally dumped furniture. It is a $500 fine for using a dumpster that doesn't belong to you, It is a little muddled about the legality of taking things OUT of the dumpster. Technically it belongs to the cartage company but they don't want it as they don't salvage/ They pay by the pound to dump. So when I went back and grabbed two serviceable wing-back chairs and a matching footstool, I figure the stores will forgive my trespass, as it made room once again in their dumpster.

Manna from Heaven

2007-11-22T09:52:00.000-08:00

We have come to think of these finds as manna as in the food that feel from heaven to feed the Israelites. same rules seem to apply. If you gather more than you need it spoils and stacks up.

Once on the way out the door several years ago, my wife said to look for clothes, she explained that the youngest ,then 3 year old, boy had outgrown most of his clothes and shoes and with winter coming had no long pants. Initially I scoffed at the idea. I remarked, "Its not like shopping! You can't go down aisles 3-6 and pick out some new shoes. That night I found in a dumpster a box and a bag exactly as Hoffman describes it neatly folded, still smelling of laundry soap. Inside were Levi's pants, Osh Kosh B'Gosh! overalls, Disney shirts, Nike shoes. Every piece was a fit for the boy, everything neat clean and in perfect condition. I have never doubted again. If she sends me for something I go find it.

Divine Providence aside, I have thought long and hard about why these were in a dumpster at all in a land where people in need do exist. What it comes down to is that people have good intentions and good hearts but are poor at planning and execution. Little junior had apparently hit a growth spurt and quickly outgrown all his clothes without much wear or tear. The problem with what to do with the clothes didn't exist in my family of origin. With 9 bodies in the household they would fit someone eventually. IN modern small families, there isn't anyone to hand down to. Maybe they boxed up the best condition items intending to give to a friend or cousins child, or to donate to charity. At some point they got tired of tripping over it or there was no room in the trunk during a move to a new apartment and into the dumpster it went.

I had a few years of plenty followed by the last two being again lean. I like to dive best when I don't have to when I do have to, it is a little hard on the ego. I have a 12 year old daughter who is very understanding of our impoverished condition but also aware of the expectations regarding fashion of her peers. This summer in anticipation of school she made a few modest requests about style and basics she needed to keep the teasing to a tolerable level. It makes me so sad not to be able to easily provide these things and for the society we live in that creates these little consumer-terrorists.

She is a night-owl and regularly begs to go along on some of my forays into the night. She sees it as a grand adventure filled with the prospect of treasure as well as quality time helping dad. I was explaining the concept of manna to her between dumpsters once and related the story of the box of clothes. She excitedly remarked that's what we need to do about my school clothes. She closed her eyes and channeled something. Whether she pictured the hand of God lovingly placing her wardrobe in a dumpster, or a more pragmatic imagining of where someone that wasteful would live, I didn't ask. She meditated then, eyes popping open, announced her vision.

"I see a big building, apartments with a red-tile roof next to the water." That rung true to me, newer apartments cost more, meaning more discretionary income to waste. I find that the really high end and low end tenants don't waste Its the upwardly striving ones that haven't yet maxed their credit cards that are the mostly like to discard and upgrade. I applied my very best ESP to read her vision and saw a complex on the water I knew about. If not that one, there were plenty nearby.

In the second complex, there was an automated gate, which bothers me not at all, but the cop sitting next to it doing paperwork did. Not dissuaded, we parked on a side street on the opposite end of the complex from the cop, and found the security error where a utility box provides easy access to the top of the fence and over we went. I rarely have to go hand over hand to scale a fence and its good to find the flaws for the heavy laden return trip.

The third dumpster hit. We found a large trash bag from what was obviously a size zero, skin baring coed at the local university nationally known as a party school. My 12 year old loved the tops which she wears modestly with a plain long shirt underneath, giving visual interest while staying comfortably covered up.

She believes now too.

Last night our assignment was to scrounge up a Tanksgiving meal with all the trimmings. I shall relate our success on that next.

Thankful this day for the wasteful ways of the ungrateful .

2007-11-22T08:23:00.000-08:00

We live in the wealthiest country n the history of the world as measured by the availability and affordability of everything from those things necessary to sustain life to those things that add some spice to life. A wise elder looking into my future once told me with a puzzled tone in his voice that in additions to those things things necessary, I would always have access to those things that make life pleasant.

Years later in a dumpster it hit me what he saw. Times were lean. My wife had mentioned that if we could spare it in the budget, our oldest would like a Razor scooter for Christmas. This was before such became ubiquitous. I hadn't yet seen one, but she described it to me. Within a day or two I was rooting around in a dumpster of a chain drugstore, and found what later proved to be the handle of a scooter. It wasn't Razor brand but a fair copy. I puzzled over it, having found several semi-broken Ab-slide tummy exercisers recently, but this handle was different. I searched around for more parts and found the basic deck part. Aluminum is always worth money so would have grabbed it regardless of what it actually was supposed to be. My native curiosity dictated that I figure out how it worked. I figured out how it unfolds and with dawning recognition I realized I had the basic parts for a scooter.

With glee I sorted the entire dumpster bag for bag, and retrieved every piece that could possible be related to the scooter. Seated comfortably on a bag of trash, I worked out what went where by the light of my dive light. When I emerged from the dumpster 15 minute later I had a fully assembled version that was short only one nut that apparently was left off or lost in the manufacturing or packaging process. This scooter was returned most likely because without the nut, you can;t tighten the handle height. For less than 15 cents at a bolt counter at ACE hardware, I had a scooter.

We were easily the poorest people in our affluent neighborhood, but pleased as I was with the find I couldn't wait for Christmas so I proudly presented my son with the first scooter on the block. The other kids, whose parents had no doubt already purchased them that season's hot selling toy had to wait till Christmas. The envious kids raised in a consumerist society extracted their petty revenge Christmas morning when they decided that my son's off-brand was inferior to their off-brand. None of them had genuine Razor brand, but they decided the color of the urethane wheels denoted quality.

A week later work took me a dozen miles south of me and I was feeling brave and up for some diving in broad daylight.

A word about that. My wife describes my actions when I do this as showing aplomb when in polite company, and a little more colorfully when we are giggling together about a more adventurous snatch. It is interesting that in some ways it is 'safer' diving in broad daylight because people see what they want to see. Divers are invisible. If you look neat and drive a reasonable vehicle, people assume you are looking for boxes or maybe responsibly throwing away the detritus of a fast food lunch.

In such a mode, I loath to pass up a dumpster by what I think of as the most wasteful chain in the country. I have often wondered if I should short-sell stocks based on the costs of the waste I can quantify in a dumpster, but in our consumer driven society it is unlikely to work. The "turn" is everything in retail. How fast they can empty a square foot of store and refill it again dictates gross sales, which seems to matter more than actual profits. These thoughts run through my head as I stalk a dumpster, feeling the rhythm of the employees, timing my approach to provide the maximum uninterrupted privacy. As I cased the place, an employee came out and threw some items in the trash. She paused and gazed into the dumpster a while as if lost in thought. This is a good sign. If something is in that dumpster that gives an employee who is PAID to waste things cause to stare, and its not a dead body, it is definitely worth a look. I hopped and skipped over as soon as she went back inside and saw I was going to need to pull my vehicle next to the dumpster to screen as I dove. Turned out that there were no less than SEVEN scooters in the dumpster, new in the box, but now that Christmas was over, they were making room apparently. Two of them were Razor brand with ruby red transparent urethane wheels. By the peak of the season those were priced at $110 each.

My son then had the scooter that was the envy of th neighborhood. The second one, my wife got some exercise on it to the wonder and delight of the small kids in the neighborhood about a MOM on a scooter.

We came to know that with attention paid to where a dumpster was located and its uniquer habits including seasonal and time of the month characteristics, I could find with a certain degree of reliability anything.

I consider myself to be a person of faith, not so much religious (although I attend church regularly) but more superstitious and inclined to assign other-worldly explanations to what may be coincidence or happenstance.

I find an attitude of prayerful gratitude, seems to clear my mind to consider where my needs or even wants might best be met. I often think of people even less fortunate than I, perhaps even kneeling in supplication for the help they need.

I was in very "Greenie" infested Eugene Oregon once. The very same paper that was reporting ways to reduce your waste stream by such things as composting had an article about a woman working in the local welfare office being disciplined for her xeroxed tip sheet that she had handed out telling people among other suggestions on budgeting and dollar stretching that people sometimes leave things behind stores like cribs and high chairs, ironing boards, bags of unwanted clothes and the like. I call this neighbor trash. It was good tip. For her to be disciplined for it was nothing short of crazy.

A local homeless shelter here sent men in a truck around to grocery stores to scrounge culls from the produce departments. I am pretty sure that what happened was they were a bit late getting there and were directed to the emptied daily and surprisingly clean dumpsters where within a short while culled produce was placed in the same arguably clean boxes it came from the fields in deposited there. Somebody called the news station that had someone close enough to video this 'disgusting practice' and the shelter was maligned and the homeless probably ate canned veggies instead of fresh fruit that night.

I once saw a homeless man sitting in the gentle rain, his guitar in a scavenged trash bag for protection smoking what was probably a butt scrounged from the ashtray in front of the store.

I assumed anything good in the dumpster was probably already gone. On the one hand I figured he needed it more than I, but I was a little annoyed to have my favorite seemingly private reserve poached upon. My neighbors do not compete with me for the treasure. I checked anyway thinking maybe he left some items because on foot he cant do the volume of scrounging I can. I was SHOCKED to see boxes and boxes of cigars.

I decided then and there that some people cannot be helped. I try anyway, when I have more than I can possible use, I donate to thrift stores and occasionally if it is non-perishable items to a soup kitchen. I expect to find seasonal items AFTER a holiday,but it is amazing what you find BEFORE the event from mistakes in ordering, freight damage, and just plain miscommunication.

I found two cases of cranberry sauce in October once, most of the cans were dented but it is a myth that a dented can is dangerous. As long as the can isn't bulged there is little risk. Even then the risk exists in things like canned meat, not fruit, fruit that goes bad it turns to alchohol.

I found 3 gross (144 units) of Christmas stockings weeks before Christmas, and gave those and bags and bags of found candy to a shelter that helps homeless people with children.

I was able to donate cases of personal items and sundries to a battered women's shelter including 150 bottles of nail polish.

All this is after my needs are more than met time and time again.