This morning, after finishing my shopping at my town's farmers market, I found myself in the following Portlandia sketch:
Yep, someone had left their dog tied up outside. Two other people were asking everyone as they left whether or not that was their dog. Seriously? Tying up your dog to a pole like a stripper? Who does that? It's not like it's a sunny summer day - while it's the warmest winter we've ever had, it is still cold, damp, and miserable out there. I know I was shivering in my Columbia Polar Fleece. Poor puppy.
I kind of love Portlandia. Each of their sketches seem to start with a familiar situation. Like, the dog tied up in a public place. Then, it escalates, gradually, to a heightened place of ridicule, but you're laughing at yourself for that moment of insight.
So, this morning, before the dog moment, I found myself talking to my chicken lady, who grows free-range birds and sells the most beautiful eggs you've ever seen. She's even branching into cured poultry meats (raised too many turkeys last year), so I'm now buying free-range turkey lunch meat. She takes pictures of the livestock, will give you detailed descriptions on how all of the animals are slaughtered, and will even pass out driving directions to the farm if you want to check up on the conditions yourself (please use the second drive by the barn, not the first drive that goes to the house). It makes me feel really good about where my food is coming from, and I know that my food dollar is going completely to the farmer who raises the food... with a little syphoned off for the rental of booth space to Parks & Rec and the private alternative school (i.e. the Hippie School) in town.
Portlandia had Carrie and Fred drop their forks, go to the farm, then join a cult. I hope one of these days, the end of the sketch does not look familiar to me, even if the situation starts as a vignette of my life.