NOTHING TO REPORT, SIR

       I took a physical-health day today. Joey had two gals working off their community-service hours, so my presence wasn't all that necessary. Selfishly, I took the morning off because I was helping with an art exhibit ALL afternoon, and I knew I'd be on my feet for 4 or 5 hours (and I was).
       The exhibit was held by our neighborhood Fast Frame shop. The owner is an accomplished artist, and she presented her own works, some of mine, and one other person's. We had many pieces on display, and it was an adventure helping prepare for this! I learned how to put backing on pictures,wire them, and hang them... we used cutting tools, power drills, and staple guns—heck, I felt like Tim Allen on "Tool Time." When it was over, we had each sold two pieces.
       The exhibit began at 12:30 and lasted until 4. Because this frame shop is next-door to a popular restaurant, some of our guests wandered in after their meals—as we had hoped. One gentleman is a well-known artist from a town nearby. He chewed the fat for quite awhile with another exhibitor, then he sought me out for questions: What kind of paper do I use? How do I make those soft blends; do I use a blending stick? Do I use charcoal or pencil, and what kind? Last, do I use a kneaded eraser?
       That was SO embarrassing! I had to admit: I use "drawing paper" from the crafts store. My pencils come in a 3-pack—dark, medium, light. I use my finger and a blending stick. The kneaded eraser IS with me at all times. Otherwise, I cannot talk the talk. But I had so much fun!
       Hope you had a good day too :)

FEAST & TURNED-UP NOSES

       We made salmon puffs again today. I took the chopped onion with me, and Joey deboned the salmon before I got there, so it was ready well before serving time. We had another helper today, and her expertise is in restaurants, so those salmon puffs fried up in a jiffy! We also served canned fruit and a hearty soup left over from earlier this week.
       Nobody complained about the soup or the fruit, but salmon puffs are just not on some folks' list. "I don't eat those," one eternally hostile pre-release woman said. "That's okay," I smiled.
       Some of the guys in her group asked for seconds, and thirds. "Who made these?"
       We had enough to share with our homeless group, too. No complaints there. And we had a child today—a boy about 11. I made up a baggie for him with a cheese stick, bubble gum, a sucker, and a pack of gummy bears. I miss the kids, but I'm glad when none is forced to be there.
       Our Angel was as charming as ever—his hair, I noticed today, is nearly snow white. He's really a striking fellow, and his smile is endearing, even without teeth. What a sweet soul.
       And there was a new kid, maybe 18, in the group. He's cute. He's lost. He's so lost. I watched him sitting with his lunch. He wasn't eating. He had a large coffee. He looked down and around, never focusing on anything. His movements were jerky, and he looked sick.
       "Joey? What's wrong with the young fellow in the gray shirt?"
       "Too many pills, Miss Joy."
       Too many pills. What a beautiful young man—all wasted and lost.
       Speaking of lost, Mr. Huggy has been missing for days. Some said he was sick; some said he had a sick relative; nobody seems to know for sure. Joey thinks … well, no need to gossip.
       Our helper made the sack lunches, and I enjoyed giving her all my tricks for that project. In fact, our little threesome had such a good time that I was "late" leaving!
       Gatekeeper is well.
       Next week we're planning sausage-gravy biscuits, scrambled eggs, and spinach.
     

THE GOOD, THE BAD, & THE HUNGRY

       Have I mentioned how no two Sundays are even remotely alike? When I entered the main lobby this morning, a young couple was standing there looking anxious. "M'am, could we borrow your phone? We got stuck here, and we're from Washington."

       I wasn't about to hand my phone to a total stranger, so I told him I'd need to ask the gate keeper. "Oh, she works here," I heard the young man tell his companion. Apparently working there gave me a certain amount of power. Works for me.

       Once the gate keeper let me in, I mentioned the young couple and the phone. "I don't know what they're up to," he said, "and I'm not letting them in." So I headed on back to the kitchen where Joey was waiting.

       "Miss Joy," he announced, "This is Molly! She's going to be helping us for a while."

       There stood the cutest little college kid you ever saw—not shy, been working there 4 days already,  just loving the place.

       "Are you working off a boo-boo?" I asked her. She is. I didn't ask for details, but she said she has assured her father that it was her very last boo-boo. She even talked about coming back to volunteer there after she finishes her community service hours—because she likes it so much. I told her she'd be the first to come back, but we'd love to have her.

       Not surprisingly, she comes from an educated, professional family. I told her she was in good company on that issue.

       Anyway, the sack lunches were already made! All I had to do was open two huge cans of pork 'n beans, and cut up 71 hot dogs. Go in your kitchen, get out your butter knife and slice 71 hot dogs. Then you'll know what I was up against. I meant to take my own knife today, but I forgot. 

       Joey didn't get to order the fresh fruit we were going to have for fruit salad BECAUSE Miss Lillian wouldn't let him. SHE said "the people were just eating it up," so she didn't see any sense in getting more for them… Some days, it's hard to remember the simple good manners I was taught as a child.

       But Joey did have the coleslaw, and I doctored it with dressing and celery seeds. We heated some yeast rolls and called it lunch. Nobody complained. Wouldn't have done them any good.

       There was a pall over the pre-release group. Joey said they were mad about the new rule: "If you don't eat beef, chicken, or pork, you'll need a note from your doctor to get a special plate."

      I really respect the new rule. It had come to the point that too many folks were sashaying up to the counter and turning up their noses at the food. That is not the place for such behaviors. In time, surely, the rule will become accepted and life will go on—perhaps with a smile or two.

       So… I haven't seen Mr. Huggy in weeks. And Joey wanted to get into his office today for some supplies, but the Hugs wasn't there! And he's the one who usually ferries folks to church and back. I allowed as how I thought Huggy was probably embarrassed after having Pretty Woman strip him of hundreds of dollars, but Joey said, "NO! She's staying with him!"

       That was the big shocker of the day. Beyond that, any news I might have brought home is paltry.

       No children at lunch again today. Good for them!

       I didn't eat the grease-dogs and beans; Map is on a diet, so he didn't eat at the church luncheon. I picked him up at 12:45 and we came home to tuna salad… and maybe a glass of wine.

       If your morning was half as rewarding as mine, we're bookin'.

WHAT WAS I THINKING?

       Joey was at the chicken sink when I arrived. He had spread a ton of ingredients on the prep table for my salmon patties. It looked a bit daunting, but doable—until I got in knee-deep. First: there isn't a sharp knife in that kitchen (anymore), and I had to dice four onions, stopping midway to remove my gloves, blow my nose, wipe away my tears, wash my hands, and re-glove.

       We opened about 15 tall cans of pink salmon. It's been decades since I cooked with salmon, and I completely forgot that I like to pick off the black stuff, and the white stuff, and the spine. Messy, messy, messy. In the end, we invited one of the pre-release fellows to help me with that, and he was a cheerful worker.

       It was 10 minutes 'til feeding time before I began dropping little balls of my special salmon/onion/egg/flour/milk mixture into the deep fryer. Joey dropped some French fries in the other basket. We were late; we were late; we were late. That's when I looked up and saw 8 or 10 pre-release folks sitting at tables in the dining room, looking right at me. I tried to make light of our lateness, but those people can be a tough crowd. They did eat well and without complaints.

       We had fresh salad to go with the fried foods, and I admit that my own fingers slipped into the salmon pan a time or two. When we realized that we had a few extra, I took them into the dining room and went from table to table, offering another. Two guys looked up, eager to have another, but wanting to know: "What is this? We thought maybe it was tuna, but we don't know."

       Our Angel looked extra dapper today. I think he might have some new clothes. He was certainly spit-spot and smiling.

       The C&W oldies were finer than fine; Joey had it cranked up loud because, he said, the selections were so fine. I wrote two numbers on a little slip of paper, to download later.

        Our gate keeper is well. He enjoyed the salmon thingies and took a plateful back to his desk. The children are visiting elsewhere, and I didn't see Mr. Huggy. Miss Anna is coming this afternoon to help Joey make sack lunches—not that I had the steam for it if she weren't. I don't know when I've done that much hard labor in 2-1/2 hours, and I smell like deep-fry grease and fish. I hurt all over, and just as soon as I download some songs, I'm hitting the shower.

       Next week's menu, Joey said, was up to me… First, he said we'd be having "the usual," but after last week's major soup failure, I don't have the nerve to get back on that horse. So I chose beans and wieners, coleslaw, and fresh fruit salad. Joey promises to order the slaw and dogs.

       Bon appétit!

ONE ONE ONE TWO

       It's gonna rain. I woke up with the rain headache. I did not want to zip off to the shelter kitchen. As a reward for hauling myself up, I stopped at McDonald's for breakfast biscuits for Joey and me.

       A young man opened the locked door to the inner sanctum, and I greeted our gatekeeper, as always.

       "You make my day!" he beamed.

       "I do?"

       "You always come in here like a ray of sunshine!"

        Hadda leave the pity party at the door… besides, our Angel walked up at that moment. "Hey, Angel!" I hugged him. Oh, that one does tug at my heart. What pity party? Where?

       Joey was mopping the dining room. There were a few dozen plates of cold leftovers on the stove and no sign of lunch. "What's for lunch?"

       "The usual," he grinned, nodding toward me (soup lady on call again). And I do love to make the soup, but today—oh, today—we just didn't have the right ingredients. Joey put large containers of frozen corn, peas, and pole beans on the prep table. I dug through the mystery box, but came up a bit short. Then we added half a huge can of stewed tomatoes—it just had too many frozen vegetables. They don't make good, homemade-tasting soup.

       For his part, Joey made grilled ham 'n cheese and turkey 'n cheese sandwiches. Only the pre-release folks got those (like they were special—not).

       So it's January 1st, and last night was tempting to a lot of people. Six of the shelter's homeless were thrown out, having been found to have alcohol on their breath. After all his experience with those people, Joey is still amazed when people choose a beer over a warm bed in the dead of winter. "Miss Joy, it's cold out there!"

       The pre-release weren't even allowed to go out, for fear they would be tempted.

       While we put together several dozen sack lunches, I asked Joey if our Angel ever wore his white outfit again. Are you ready for the skinny on that? I was not ready for this information. Our Angel lives in the homeless part of the shelter (he is not a pre-release federal prisoner). He was a state prisoner, and now he is free, but when he left prison, all he had was the "prison whites" on his back. He came directly to the shelter.

       This thin, frail, old man with missing teeth has hands that look 80 years old. He's reticent and thankful. Joey and I cannot imagine how such a soul wound up in prison.

       Well, as I said, lunch was way less than appetizing. I felt guilty making it; I felt guilty serving it. When anyone mentioned the food's source, Joey and I took turns blaming it on one another. The children didn't come to lunch, but I left them some cheese sticks and bubble gum for later. Mr. Huggy didn't make an appearance either.

       For next week, Joey and I talked about deep-fried salmon cakes, or beanie weenies. I'm voting for the salmon.

       Joey says he hopes this whole new year is just completely wonderful. I suggested that he might wake up every day and begin with the idea of a wonderful day, because I think we sometimes forget that whole years are made of days—some of them rainy.