"I SOLD SOME DRUGS"

      Today's service to the shelter kitchen began yesterday. I bought two enormous cabbages, a bag of carrots, black olives, green olives, a box of cherry tomatoes, and two kinds of chunk cheese.

       I chopped up the cabbages and cut the carrots into sticks. It was all stored in 4 gallon-size zip-lock bags. Then I made 70 kabobs with the other stuff, on 4-inch wooden skewers. Then I rubbed a bunch of BenGay on my back and took half a pain pill. "Miss Joy," Joey asked today, "how long does it take to make those kabobs?"

       "Until the wine runs out," I told him.

       Our kitchen was joyously filled with help this morning. Hard-working Gal came again and set about making those !$@^%ing sack lunches. She does it with such cheer! And I make sure she is well praised. I got my cabbage and carrots in a HUGE pot with a bit of water, a large chunk of butter, some salt, pepper, and celery seed. It was at least a half hour before the bottom portion was cooked enough to turn the mixture over. Eventually, that mass of cabbage wasn't nearly so large, and I felt that it was ready, so I turned it off.

       In the meantime, I peeled a dozen huge potatoes and cubed them for boiling. Teacher's Pet came to help, as promised last week. He wanted to know, "What are you going to do with the potatoes?" Joey wanted to know too. I think they were disappointed to hear that I was only going to boil them, add butter, salt & pepper, and a bit of milk. When the spuds were finished, however, nobody questioned the recipe.

       Joey had boiled several dozen eggs, and I had prepared the mayo mixture for deviled eggs last night. So Pet cut them apart and filled them for me. We had a gigantic platter of deviled eggs, with the kabobs in the middle.

       It wasn't enough. Joey had intended to serve a pan of mac 'n cheese with this meal, but Miss Lillian wouldn't let him have one. She wanted those for "dinner entrees" (much too good as a side dish at Sunday lunch). Just saying… pzzzzt.

       So there we were with our eggs, our cabbage, and our potatoes. Not enough. I suggested we open some large cans of corned beef hash (after all, it's not that far from St. Patty's Day). I fried two huge pans of hash, and the plates did look sumptuous when they were assembled.

       Joey sure knows how to keep his mops running when he has kitchen help! He's never idle, but I am amused by how much he'd rather mop than cook. Doesn't matter. Each of us served our purposes well and fully. I don't know how all the work would have been accomplished without that team.

       Lunch was SO successful! We had only 7 or 8 pre-release diners and they were quiet. Eternally Hostile Woman left last week—she has earned her way to greener pastures. I wish her well. So, after the prisoners finished, we did expect a much larger homeless crowd, but I was surprised that thirty-two people showed up! Joey heated a large pan of leftover pasta, and we made do, as the food level went down. When the last two people came to the counter, all they got was pasta and deviled eggs. Still, the pasta dish was full of cheese and broccoli—so it was nutritious.

       Angel didn't come to lunch. Joey said that of all the people there, Angel "deserved one of the good plates" (corned beef/the works), and he told me to give his to Angel. We wrapped it, and set it aside. I never did see Angel, but he'll probably show up for the afternoon snack time.

       Because there was so much to do today, I'd gone in a bit early, and I was late leaving. I was rummaging through the refrigerator when two hands squeezed my shoulders. I didn't even have to turn around, "Hugs!" Yep, it was The Hugs himself. When I did turn around, he squeezed me again (oh, please). He asked how I was and said he was fine. I did forget to ask Joey for "the scoop," so you still know only as much as I do.

       Pet says he's leaving in 2 weeks—has a job and an apartment and a real desire to get on with his life—maybe even college. He plans to come again next week, and Joey and I made a soup menu, so Pet can see how we do that. We're planning chef salad, garlic bread sticks and soup.

       Before I left, Pet and I had a long conversation about life and stuff. I asked him what would he like to do? He'd really, really like to be a fireman! Now doesn't that sound doable? Not if you've committed a felony. If you've committed a felony, there are apparently many things that are permanently out of reach. He leaned way across the prep table and lowered his voice, "I sold some drugs."

       And I felt sad about that. But college—that is within reach, and he wants that. I wore a Paris t-shirt to work today, and Pet's eyes often fell on the Eiffel Tower. "Have you been to Paris?" Eventually, I came to tell him that if he goes to college (by way of grants, loans, scholarships—doable), he can study one year abroad in most any country, for the same price (except for airfare). HE has always thought only the very wealthy could to that! Boy, you just never know when you're carting around a BIG secret that might change somebody's life!

       Oh… and he's black. I showed him a picture of my child, and he was absolutely amazed. "Miss Joy, I never thought you had a black child!" And well, why would he have? He sees me differently now. It's an opportunity to make a difference—and I only have 2 more Sundays to do it. This is where my "spiritual" self says, "Joy, keep your mouth shut and let the Spirit speak for you!" (I'm not very spiritual until it comes to the important stuff.)

       Gate Keeper came by the kitchen, and I gave him some kabobs. We didn't get a chance to talk.

       The babies were at lunch, but I could see only the stroller. I left two jars of meat sticks for them—for a day when the shelter meal might not be as kid-friendly as today's. And the adolescents were there. I gave them little baggies with goodies, and I spread some art kits for them to choose from. A tall, scraggly fellow took one of the kits. "No, no." I said. "Put that back—you're too big." Isn't that sad? I wish I could afford to offer ALL of the residents a little art kit. I just know their days seem like eternities.

       It's dark today and cold. Spring is out there, blooming, but we can't feel it. Several people came to the counter after lunch to thank us for their meal—their one home-cooked meal in God-only-knows how long. I can see I'll need more wine for Saturday preparations.