Today, as I was walking to a meeting at a neighboring non-profit, a man in a white van pulled up beside me, rolled open his door, and proceeded to ask repeatedly if I needed a ride.
This leaves me to wonder one of three things:
Do I look like a prostitute?
Do I look stupid?
Or is he just crazy?
This guy doesn't quite beat the homeless man that jumped out from behind my dumpster one night, screaming that he had AIDS and was schizophrenic. Not a good sales pitch, to say the least. (Oh, yea, Mom, you're not supposed to read this.) The homeless man was actually quite harmless--at least I thought so once I ran behind my security gate. I gave him a banana I had upstairs. My cop friend of a friend says I should not give crazy men bananas. He says I should learn to use more safety precautions, and not be a crazy banana giver.
Anyway, the man in the white van went away, shortly after I pretended to be deaf. It was, after all, in broad daylight on a busy street. So I got to my meeting safe and sound.
The meeting was about food stamp qualifications for our clients. As a missionary, I have the odd experience of sitting in meetings learning about public assistance knowing that my income technically qualifies me for public assistance.
So, Mom, you don't have to worry about my ability to eat. If I ever need them, I officially qualify for food stamps.
