The Prostitute's Toaster + The Drug Dealer's Spoon

Years ago my neighbors, two sisters, gave me a few items from their garage. Would you like a toaster, we don't want it, it's the prostitute's toaster, Lisa the younger one said giggling. Their sister Andrea had been on the dark side for many years with drugs and prostitution and they were fed up with trying to help her. We don't want her junk, Lisa said.

Sure, I said wondering if it can stand up to my homemade whole wheat bread. It seemed like a toaster that was built for air bread. I'll take it!

As an orphan I see inanimate objects as homeless creatures that need adopting. This is the root of my scavenging. 

Yesterday I found a can of unopened grape soda on my dog walk and took it home and rinsed it and placed it in my fridge. Someone will want it, I thought.

My husband is used to this. Where'd this come from, he'll ask? Holding up a can of Boost. I found it in the bushes downtown, unopened, I'll answer.

Manna from heaven, found in the gutter could be my epitaph. 

Years ago a grill sat in the parking lot through many winters, abandoned. One day I opened the grill top and looked inside. There was an olive green ceramic bowl and a sturdy metal soup spoon and black mold fuzz growing in the bowl. I knew what to do. I brought the bowl and spoon inside and washed and kept them.  I knew this was the resident drug dealers grill, bowl and spoon. She has been terrorizing the neighborhood for over 5 years. In my opinion she had left them unattended for too long.

Now, of course they are my favorite bowl and spoon and each day I think of the Jewish story of Hamen's hat when I eat out of them.