SO, HOW'S YOUR MATH?

       Apparently, my math is in the toilet. There were 32 sack lunches in the fridge this morning! I was so excited! Quick check: need 15 more. Made 26...

      Joey served deep-fried corn dog bites and tossed salad for lunch. For dinner he's making rice, sweet potatoes, green beans, and pre-fab country-fried "steak" (super salty ground turkey, pattied, fried, & gravified). No gourmet foods today.

       It's Slick's last day. Tomorrow he heads out into the free world, to make his own way, to be a father to his child, to be a good citizen. I'll miss him in a very selfish way.

       There were two children and a baby at lunch. Joey and I put a lot of effort into preparing a "baby" plate... he started with baked beans (repercussions?), fish nuggets (removed the breading, broke up the meat), then a bit of rice. Later, I thought to give the baby a slice of cheese.

       So we struggled to find foods for an 11-month-old. Of course I got all motherly and wanted to provide better, but it's just not there. What I didn't know was that our sheltered homeless get $200 in food stamps per month, per person. Joey gets really agitated when he shares this information—he doesn't understand why a system would feed people twice. In fact, he tells me, one of the residents is soon going to retire from a job he's had 20 years, and is also working another job. Joey wants to know: what are they doing with the money? Good question.

       I gave him the downside: people who will live in a shelter when they don't need to are lacking the self-respect that he and I have. "You love your independence, don't you, Joey?"

       "Oh, yes, Miss Joy! I surely do!"

       "Me too."

       We had a lot of sharing time today. I am increasingly amazed at Joey's talent, his intelligence, his abilities... and those nagging disabilities. Today I just asked him, "Joey, do you think you have a little bit of dyslexia?"

       He thinks he does. No wonder nephew keeps coming out ne   h   p...

       In school he was placed in a "slow learners" class. That group got "certificates" instead of diplomas. But when I look at Joey, when I talk to him, when I observe him, there is nothing "slow" about him! Somebody has miserably failed that child. Thank God he has this wonderful niche in the shelter kitchen where many of his talents are put to use.

       On the upside, he's ready for his third vocabulary test, and shooting for an A. Who knows? Maybe something will click during the course of working on his GED, and he'll find a way to show how much he knows.

       And speaking of knowing stuff... I'm finding my way around the kitchen pretty well now! Today I even answered the phone—three times! Stop laughing. That's always been Joey's job, but today he was out in the dining room, mopping, and that phone just kept ringing. One call was a request to open the locked door, so a prisoner could come in and do some chores. Another was to open the locked door, so a man could get a sack lunch to take to his job. And the third was... oh dear... apparently that has fallen in the dark hole with my math.

       C&W music rocked the kitchen. I wrote down three long-forgotten oldies that I want to download. It's amazing how many things I have forgotten in my 64 years.

       Anna was due later this afternoon—PBJ duty for her!

      Slick was paged to the kitchen so I could get a good-bye hug. "Now go out there and kick some butt. I know you can do it!"

       "I will," he promised.

       Took a pain pill around noon, slipped away by noon-thirty—smiled all the way home.