BANANA PUDDING

       Today I went prepared with "stuff" to carry in. Yep, we had banana pudding. It was a crap shoot because you never know what folks (or which folks) will eat. The overweight 9-year-old turned up his nose. Some of my pre-release guys turned up theirs. Mr. Wilson, of course, was able to slide at least one helping into his blood-sugar ration.

       Joey made corned beef and scrambled eggs. The pre-release guys were ecstatic. I'm sure I've never seen them appreciate a meal so much.

       Our C&W music station really let us down today. The longer we listened, the more depressed Joey became. "Miss Joy, I'm just sure country and western music is depressing." And later, "They say this music causes divorce… all those songs about losing your woman because she died or ran off with somebody, or you ran off with somebody…"

       I had to agree, but only because today's selections were on the sorry side of sad. Yes, I have sent an email to the radio station. Next Sunday I expect some jammin' music!

       Kyle is back this week. He made 22 sack lunches yesterday, reducing my load to a mere 23! He made the PBJ sacks too. Just always a pleasure to see those sacks put together.

       Joey is still going strong with school. This quarter, his group continues their vocabulary work, plus they are reading a book. They read it in class, going around the circle. Wouldn't it be just the bomb to teach a class like Joey's? Maybe in my next life…

"NORMAL" IS SOMETIMES JUST OUT OF REACH

       Two guys were standing in my shady parking spot when I got there this morning. I smiled and wiggled a finger at them to let me in. It was going well until I stepped out of the car and they offered to help me carry in my stuff… I didn't have any stuff—no goodies—again today. I ducked my head low, and shuffled across the parking lot, shoulders sagging. At least they got a little chuckle out of it.

       My real job (the one that faded last winter and got me into the kitchen business in first place)—that job—has kept me hog tied to the computer night and day for months now. I am tired. I am almost too tired to play.

       So I slept in this morning, and did not apologize when for cruising into Joey's kitchen at 10 o'clock. I was well rested, thinking nothing could come between me and my Sunday-Lady fun.

       Joey and I began with lots of laughs—largely related to the MATH we needed for the sandwich count. Only two bags in the fridge! So… um… we needed 43 more sack lunches, or 86 sandwiches. Just made my eyes water.

       Then Joey suggested I make some deviled eggs—we had ONE HOUR to cook the eggs and prepare them—for 40 people. Adrenaline comes in handy sometimes. Those sandwiches came together so fast, I couldn't believe it myself, and Joey helped me put them in baggies. Then I threw the lot of them in the refrigerator, to clean the prep table for deviled eggs.

       Around 11 o'clock I began to think something wasn't quite right, but I kept up the pace. We served hot dogs in buns, potato salad, baked beans, and deviled eggs to both of our groups. Then Anna called to say she was coming in this afternoon, and I wouldn't have the PBJ duty! That's always wonderful to hear, but this time I knew it was more wonderful than ever because by noon I was completely aware of a full-blown UTI! I had to come home and dig out some medicine—right then.

       So there you have it. It was a wonderful morning in the kitchen, our music was better than ever because the machines were quiet today, and Joey has surely become one of the brighter lights of my life; but, today it was all abbreviated.

HOME AGAIN

       Joey was at his post this morning! Getting to his post proved to be a challenge. I knocked and knocked on the dining room door. Finally, I went back to the front desk and asked the person on duty to call Joey and tell him to let me in. As I arrived back at the dining room doors, the voice on the loud speaker announced, "Joey, there's a woman waiting for you. Let her in."

       I cut up three little sugar melons that Joey produced, added a large can of fruit chunks and a half dozen cans of apricots. Joey baked pizza and deep fried some onion rings.

       JOEY has finished the first quarter of school, with flying colors!

       Sixty-eight sandwiches, 18 sacks with PBJs, two lunches served, and I was ready to fall down, but we had enjoyed ourselves completely. Our C&W music filled the room, and we found the clients singing along with us as they came through the line.

       A precious little moon-faced 4-year-old boy came to lunch today. His eyes have dark, dark circles under them. He ate a good lunch, rubbing those sad eyes over and over. I stepped softly inside his little head, just for a moment: he's barely aware of the world around him, he trusts without question, and I hope he won't remember this time in his life.

        Mr. Wilson was sitting on the outside wall when I left—all 350 diabetic pounds of him. "Thanks for the fruit salad; I know it was you."

       Getting credit for free is okay.

HALLELUJAH!

       The Sunday kitchen was served with a twist today. Joey was not there! In his stead was Miss Lillian who's been there for ages. There's a plaque with her picture on the wall. Pics of her large colorful family cover the refrigerator door. Miss Lillian. I knew she was around, but we've passed like ships in the night—month after month.

     "You must be Joy," she said.

       She's nice. She's heard about my deviled eggs; says I'm spoiling folks.

       I went straight to work on 26 lunches—52 sandwiches. Lillian buzzed around the deep fryer and cleaned the floors. Because she was using the frier, she was running the loud exhaust fan. Generally, the fan annoys me, but today… today it helped drown out 3 hours of gospel singing and preaching.

       At one point I told Lillian, "That preacher is breaking out in a sweat!"

       On checking the PBJ container, I found it completely empty. "Nothing?" Lillian asked.

       "Not even a bug," I said.

       "Well the sandwiches are already made."

       "Wonderful! I said, "I'll sack them." Twenty-five sacks with drinks, PBJs, cookies, chips, napkin. No problem. Lillian pulled the giant container back into the dining room.

       We served corndogs (again) and fries. There were baked beans for those who got there first. There was a new guy in the pre-release group. He's well-spoken, approaching middle age, and handsome. When he asked for a second plate of food, I gave him a secretive nod, and he took it, as did another man. After all, at least six people weren't coming, and we had more than enough. Then he started schmoozing, "You're a good woman." He wanted to hang around and talk. He mentioned the radio selection, and I said, "Yes, I know. I've been saved and healed right here in this kitchen!"

       The resident homeless  were in great abundance today. Some of them didn't particularly want corndogs and fries. Lillian has no sympathy. "They're not hungry; they're picky!" she complained. Sigh.

       She won't be there next week, but said she was mighty happy that I made those sandwiches for her. Apparently, it's her least-favorite job. Lillian also said that when Joey is not there, the other volunteers don't show up. She was quite surprised that I had come at all, like I would not have come, had I known. She was wrong.

       AMEN!

AUGUST 1

       Well, well, well. Kyle greeted me at the back door when I lugged in 3 gallons of chocolate pudding. By the time I unloaded and looked around, it was obvious that we were a large group again this week. Joey introduced me to a young woman who was helping. He said Anna couldn't come this afternoon, and would I mind if Lucy helped me make the sack lunches... silly boy. We knocked those 27 lunches out in jig time, then put together 25 PBJ sacks. During all of that, Kyle was mostly stationed at the chicken sink, and Joey was scurrying around so that I couldn't tell exactly what he was doing. He has a large cut on one hand, so he wasn't able to do some things.

       There was no "menu" for lunch today. Joey served some deep-fried corn dogs and French fries, but most of the plates were made up of dishes left from yesterday—everything from sausage and eggs, to burritos. And I used the deep fryer by myself! Thank you, thank you very much... oh that's why my shirt smells so funky...

       Earlier in the week I told my husband I was going to make butterscotch pudding for the shelter this week—with whipped topping! "No! He said. "Nobody likes butterscotch! You've gotta make chocolate."

       So I made chocolate. Just before the first meal, I spooned it into little bowls with generous dollops of whipped topping. I put those inviting desserts on the serving shelf and waited. To my disappointment, about a third of the pre-release folks were out on family passes today. Mr. Picky stopped to look at the puddings. "There's no onion in that," I said. He smiled and walked away.

       Later I found him again at the serving area, looking as if he needed something. "Can I chop up some onions for you, Darlin'?"

       He's growing on me. Cutest grin. Leaving next month...

       The shelter's homeless had a much larger turn-out, but Joey was expecting a dearth of them as well, "Because it's the first of the month, and they just got their checks." Apparently, a fresh check will lure one away from the shelter dining room. Anyway, we had pudding left over.

       I sighed and said, "I told my husband I wanted to make butterscotch pudding, and he told me nobody likes butterscotch..."

       FOUR PEOPLE shouted in unison, "I love butterscotch." Then Joey said something about next week when I bring butterscotch. I dunno.

       Because of his cut, Joey had to get help opening several dozen cans of green beans for the evening meal. In fact, I think he cut his hand on a can before I got there. About 90 minutes after the pot of beans began to simmer Kyle said, "What's burning?" It was the beans. We tried to salvage some, but the burnt taste had ruined them all. I was moved by feelings of teamwork, as Kyle held up the huge pot and I scraped out the beans. We wanted so to save them. Only now do I recall that he's not a "Sunday lady," or even a volunteer... but we're certainly on the same team.

       Joey and I didn't have any "our time" again this week. I did find him alone long enough to ask about school. He said it's going fine. As far as I know, the only thing he's studying is vocabulary.

       Giving eye contact to the residents has become easy, but this has been a long road. I guess I used to feel ashamed or embarrassed for them, so I wanted to give them a bit of anonymity. Now, they feel like friends or neighbors. Me too.

       After 2-1/2 hours I'd done all the damage I could do. I gathered up my things and heard, "Oh, I hate the sound of that purse; my sugar dumplin' is going home!"

       "Joey," I smiled, "your sugar dumplin'  is pooped!"

       ...but in a good way.