Ah... Portland Hippie Homeless Goodness

Yesterday, after much running around and spending much time in traffic, we pulled in behind this car to park for dinner at Portland's Doug Fir. Maybe it was all the running around with a full vehicle of two dogs, two sisters, two paintings, and a napless child, or maybe it was the running around after too much (or not enough?) coffee on a typical (I find beautifully so having spent the last two years heat exhausted) drizzly dreary Portland day, but it was this bumper sticker that sent Kent over the edge and had him start yelling, "That is the gay gay gay. Not derogatory towards homosexuals gay, but kumbayah gay gay."

Granted, we could have used this bumper sticker earlier in the day, when we had parked the car on NW Broadway to walk over to the block of food carts on 5th and Oak for some lunch. Kent was pushing Fyo in the stroller while I was walking along enjoying my new green shoes when a woman walking towards me got in my face and yelled at me. I don't even know what she yelled; I just knew that it was in my ear. We both continued walking on our way. Kent turned to me and said, "How did you not respond? I would have hit her." But I was too surprised to respond. And really, what do you do in such situations except briefly lament deinstitutionalization. She was clearly crazy, and much like how in The Princess Bride Vizzini says to not get into a land war in Asia, it is equally pointless to get into a verbal street fight with Portland's crazy homeless population. But if I had had that bumper sticker in my hands, I probably would have smacked her with it - though I would have amended it with a sharpie to say, "If you lived in your heart, you wouldn't be homeless."