NOW WE KNOW

       Do you have any idea how long it takes to make egg salad from 5 dozen eggs? And I don't even have a container large enough for that. I finally squeezed the stuff into my largest pot, but not before entertaining the idea of mixing it in a trash bag.

       One was in the front hall as I came in. "Is Joey here?" I asked. Because if Joey weren't there, I was sure enough planning to drop the salad and turn around.

       "Joey's here."

       I don't know why, but Joey was especially excited to see me this morning. He couldn't contain his usual "air hug" and had to give me a real one. In retrospect, I think it was his pain that was working on him—he had a horrific toothache!

       "Where is it?" I asked. "Where's the can opener?"

       "Oh, Miss Joy," he said, "they're putting it in this week. I showed them where you said it could go, and they also said it could go here [on the main work table]!"

       He went ON to describe having several supervisory staff come to the kitchen last week to ask him if he'd seen the new donated can opener, and wasn't it wonderful? So I'm shelving my worries—there are bigger fish to fry…

       While I packed 19 sack lunches, I told Joey about a memoir I'm working on for a friend. I wanted to tell him a funny story in the memoir, but first he wanted to get straight just what I was doing with it. "You're writing it?" he asked.

       "No, I'm editing it and taking out stuff…"

       "So it won't be redundant," he said.

       CHILD, I was so proud of Joey at that moment!

       One brought some stories to the kitchen—always amusing to get his take on events at the shelter. A resident was giving a sound tongue thrashing to another resident for drinking… but the thrasher was smashed as well.

       Another resident called back to the kitchen, gave me her name, and said she was going to church. I gave the message to One. "Oh, yes!" he said, pretending to quote the woman, "I was snorting crack through my straw when I found God!"

       He admits that he has "only minutes" when he doesn't love his work;  he is the specially gifted person for this job.

       Joey's making steamed cabbage for dinner, but he said he didn't know how to cut up cabbage. He surely has a way of getting me to do things for him—and I surely don't mind. I DO mind that there are no sharp knives in that kitchen. My hands are sore, but I got through it, and Joey taught me how to turn on the deep fryer! Scary stuff.

       I left Joey today with instructions to see a dentist before next Sunday. I'm thinking his pain will send him forth. Meanwhile, my own pain is hunkered down in this chair—right where it belongs.