Fleas in my Bento

They started going around the room, one by one, explaining what they planned to do for the semester. Their projects. The australian accent of an older student, actually a professor at Dook, forced my thoughts from what I was going to do to his own well-thought out plan. He would be observing surgical teams, if possible, and interviewing members of those teams. Accidental needle sticks. I had to keep thinking,

to make up for what I didn’t know I hadn’t know. I should have realized when the professor didn’t call my name as she went over the roster. It seemed like such a non-issue, a minor hiccup in the registration process. I wasn’t sent the assignment that had been emailed to the rest of the class. Submit a topic, in writing, and be prepared to share it with the class. I thought about the medical Hogan in Pinon. The chairs in the room were arranged behind long tables forming a U along the sides and back of the room. I was in the middle of the back. On my turn, I said that I would be observing alternative medicine practices and interviewing those who receive alternative care. The remaining half of the projects all sounded better.

It wasn’t long before I decided that it was a bad idea.  I don’t know what made me think of Zern’s, of the smell of fried everything, the tables piled high with jeans, vendors talking, sleeping, watching each other’s tables, even taking money for other vendors.  I decided to study the flea market instead. After all, the flea market is an alternative medicine of sorts. In a world gone insane with sanity, who couldn’t use a little disorder.

That class was over about a year ago.  Since then I have continued to go to the market periodically, sometimes as a vendor.  A lot of the stuff that I have brought for sale was donated by my roommate Andrew, Gale, her former housemates and others. Most of the money I make I have given to Gale to support missions trip to Greece.  For information on how to join me in supporting Gale, send me an email.

I will be posting pictures of different items periodically. The first is an old copper fire extinguisher that I bought at Liberty Thrift for $20. It had some stains but it was eye-catching.  I wanted to get $50 for it, but I settled for $30 at the end of a short, cold and rainy, miserable day at the market.

 
Reliance
 

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