SUNDAY LADY, WHY DON'T YOU GO TO CHURCH?

      First, I want to apologize to those who may have tried to access the blog and been denied. Some cyber gremlin did it, I swear. Anyway, I have opened it again to the world—so let them read.

       Gatekeeper today was two enormous fellows I've never seen before. One of them occupied the official chair, and the other apparently was there to keep the first one company. It IS impossible to gain passage around the work table when either of those fellows is in the kitchen, so I was glad they only came in a time or two for coffee.

       Anyway, the head keeper told me that Joey wasn't in yet, but that Brenda was! Oh! I had counted on beating her to the work table. Feeling trumped, I headed down the hall, and it hit me: why don't I just offer to HELP Brenda make her PBJs and then she can leave? What an idea! Godly, even…

       When she let me in, I made so nice… and when I offered to help, she happily, humbly, accepted. We had to fill the big rolling tub with PBJ lunch sacks for the street people (25 sacks). Each sack had 2 PBJ sandwiches, a bag of chips, a cookie, and a soft drink. Brenda has a system for assembling them, so I got in line and we got the job finished in no time. I had told her that I'd be needing the prep table for my lunch preparations.

       After we finished the PBJ sacks, Brenda found another work area and began making more PBJ sandwiches to store in a box for the next day. Her reason for suddenly appearing in the kitchen on my day is that the woman who usually helps her is on a month's vacation. Before long, we both had softened a bit, and by the time I left, I liked her! It's true that she will not touch a diet drink (with artificial sweeteners) or anything with MSG, etc. She makes all of her own bread. She freeze dries squash and zucchini for soups. She'd probably gag on a glass of wine. But she's a good egg.

       Mr. Huggy limped into the kitchen very early today. "You looked peakéd!" I said.

       "Well, I ought," he said. "I just got out of the hospital." I'm thinking he JUST got out, as in hours ago. He did not perform any duties.

       I had spread my fresh vegetables all over the work table by that time and was doling them out into 51 little bowls: each bowl had a bit of cauliflower, broccoli, carrot, celery, cucumber, squash, tomato, and one black olive. Huggy waited there as I made a bowl especially for  him (some of the veggies are not on his to-do list). "You love doing this, don't you?" he asked. Silly man.

      He took a sack lunch and his bowl of veggies and went home. It's worrisome that heart attacks and blood pressure can be so sneaky. Maybe he could use a prayer or two.

       Joey and I had never decided what to make for lunch today, other than my fresh veggies served with ranch dressing. We were going to deep fry some chicken fingers, but when I got there Joey said Miss Lillian had served fried chicken yesterday, it was all consumed, there were no leftover plates, he didn't think the people would be happy with chicken two days in a row, and he didn't know what we were going to serve.

       We finally settled on boiled hot dogs, buns, baked beans, and the fresh vegetables. Joey put the dogs and beans on, and I had nothing to do but wait for serving time, so I went back to help Brenda who was again working at the prep table. We sacked 25 more PBJ lunches.

       Joey had told me that we'd have a full house today, including the pre-release. They aren't allowed to leave the building this weekend because there's a crowd fest in town, and too many opportunities to break the rules. To my disappointment, only about 10 of the 17 came to lunch. Nearly all of them ate the veggies (a few asked for seconds), and several threw their hot dogs in the trash. The woman who can't eat wheat asked Joey to please get her pizza out of the fridge… 

       Vegan-heifer didn't show.

       There's a new guy—"older gentleman" with white hair. Big fellow. Joey introduced us. Looks can be so deceiving. I guess in time I'll come to understand how he got in trouble. Phil's propensity to trouble is certainly coming to light. His "attitude" is showing sometimes—kind of cocky. Still, I like the boy, and I wish all of them well.

       Serving that group took only 5 minutes, so I went back to Brenda's table, and we made up 30 sack lunches for the residents! She was most appreciative of the help—she'd been there since quite early, and works like a Trojan, occasionally nibbling on a chocolate (we all have our weaknesses).

       When 12 o'clock arrived, the residents came in… 2, 3, 6, 10… and then I saw the line! It stretched to the door and out into the hall. "Joey!" I called, "I need help!" Our serving counter holds only about 10 plates, and I had not prepared them fast enough. Brenda put down her sandwiches and came to help dish up the food. Her eyes nearly popped out when she saw the line. In the long time she's worked there, I guess she'd never worked during "feeding time," because that line was shocking.

       That group's lunch was a great success. They especially loved the vegetables. My 6-year-old loved them most, I think. I had prepared just a few of them for her, so we could have a vegetable lesson. I went out and sat beside her. I picked up a tiny cauliflower and said, "This is a flower."

       "I know," she said. She did not know that the broccoli was also a flower, but she told me exactly what happens to them if you don't pick them—they go to seed. She loved all the vegetables in her bowl, dipping her tomato in the dressing, eating it slowly and with great relish.

       Her parents have found work! When I asked them, the child piped up, "YES! He's got two jobs, and she's got one!" Dad does have two positions, and Mom has a grant to return to school. They are so pleased with these events, and I'm so happy for them. In a week or two, I'll be missing them. I gave the little one a Beanie Inchworm today. She loves it.

       Our 2-year-old was there as well. Her mother can be awfully cold. The child, too, withholds reactions. I gave her a little Beanie, and she snuggled it under her arm, but there was no surprise, no joy, no nothing on her face. Joey says the child's mother locks her in their room (in her crib), and goes to the dining room to eat. I can understand Mom's needing some time alone, but surely there is an alternative to that.

       The little girls and their mothers were the last to leave the dining room. My 6-year-old came to the counter and asked, "Sunday Lady, why don't you go to church?"

       I felt smugly secure with my answer, "Oh, I couldn't be here if I went to church!"

       She never missed a beat, "They have early church, you know."

      After 3 hours, I was SO ready to leave, but Brenda had just a few more sacks to pack, and then… and then someone donated a bag of fresh squash. "Joey! Why don't you cook these for dinner?"

       There was a stash of fresh squash in the cooler too, and you know that preparing fresh vegetables is not on Joey's or Miss Lillian's list. I could so see all those beautiful squash going to waste. So I put my apron back on and put about 3 gallons of chopped squash in a pot with salt, pepper, onions and butter. They were simmering when I left, and I threatened Joey severely if he let them burn. Brenda jumped in and promised me she would not let that happen.

       Church. Amen.

WHAT A CROWD!

       And it wasn't in the dining room. It was in the kitchen!

       One is keeping the gate, as we expected. Several times he brought his great good humor to the kitchen. But the first thing I saw when I entered the kitchen was Miss Lillian!!! My brain was making tons of adjustments—how to make nice—how to cooperate… then I saw her taking OFF her apron!!! (Thank you, God!).

       "Oh, don't go!" I called to her, but her preparations for tomorrow's special event were finished. She stayed only a minute more, laughing heartily with Joey and calling him sugary pet names. It was kind of creepy, looking into that part of their world.

       "You look pretty today, Miss Joy," Joey said. "And you smell French." Talk about a compliment!
       Mr. Huggy popped in the back door early; he'd had no one to take to church (what's the world coming to), and he barely stopped to say hey (again… what's up).
      So Joey indicated that aside from putting 3 dozen eggs on to boil, he'd done nothing toward lunch. He wasn't able to access the pantry yesterday for soup makings, and I was on my own… So were the eggs—after an hour their water was barely steaming, and that's when I realized he'd covered those eggs in gallons of water. After he poured most of it off, we got boiled eggs. Then he boiled another potful. I was making deviled-egg sandwiches (with toothpicked olives on top). For reality, we had fragile, dry bread.

       Soup. To my delight, the mystery box was heaped with good things for the soup. Joey gave me some diced frozen potatoes to add, and I made a huge pot. One and Joey were both saying we had a full house! One said maybe 50 people. I was skeptical, but put my shoulder into the cooking anyway.

       Just as I was about halfway through mixing the first batch of eggs, a woman came to the kitchen, put on an apron, washed her hands, and got out a pair of gloves. Joey introduced her as Miss Brenda. Apparently, she's a regular volunteer. It seems that Brenda's day job was going to interfere with her making the peanut-butter-jelly sandwiches for our street folks tomorrow, so she came in today to get those done. She appeared to give NO CREDIT to the fact that EYE was working at the worktable. She loaded herself up with supplies and came forth, as if she were the only one in the kitchen. I slid my bowl, Cuisinart, loaves of bread and utensils to one end, as far as possible. Then Brenda made herself at home on the other end of the table. It would have helped if she'd had a sense of humor, but she's a bit sour-faced. She does enjoy talking to Joey by herself, and talking about the "sad circumstances" of our residents.

       Maybe I'm cold-hearted, but I often lose sight of the residents' circumstances on Sunday mornings. They are my friends; I am making them lunch; I laugh with them, and I always give them as much food as they want. Maybe Brenda has never ventured past the peanut-butter 'n jelly table… It's possible. Come to think of it, Miss Brenda did make over Mr. Huggy's uniform quite a bit! Girl doesn't get around much.

       My little girl got a beanie ostrich today. She loves it. The 2-year-old girl got a kitten. Joey saw her hugging it to her chest and said, "That's a Kodak moment, Miss Joy." There were no other children at lunch.

       We don't have a plan for next week; we're plum out of ideas. Salad came to mind, but it's hard to get excited about salad. And, oh my, that enormous food freak waddled to the counter announcing that she "couldn't" eat egg sandwiches (doesn't eat embryos) and "wouldn't" eat the soup (doesn't eat meat). I shrugged my shoulders and walked away, not offering to find her anything else. Joey offered her some leftover corn and rice. No sale. OBVIOUSLY, she eats.

       The faces are changing, though Phil is still a running thread. He was mopping the dining room when I arrived and in good cheer. I told Joey it was nice of Phil to do that, but Joey said Phil was "assigned" the chore for an infraction of the rules. Apparently, he infracts from time to time. Speaking of such, my own Joey announced that he'd scored a 19 on last week's vocabulary test because he cheated and the teacher caught him. He said he promised her he'd never do that again—after he got through crying. Joey's just taking on too much—failed to study—thought he could slip one by. Well… lesson learned.

       My readership has dropped to two, or I'd ask for menu suggestions. Heck, I'll ask anyway. Either of you have menu suggestions for this hot weather?

GATEKEEPER, GATEKEEPER…

      Change is not only in the wind, it's inside the house—Wendy is leaving, Rick is leaving, and some fellow I've never met is leaving. One is, apparently, the loneliest number, and One will be keeping the Sunday gate until further notice. You'll hear no complaints from me!

       Joey and I had planned ham salad for today, and I took some embellishments and tools for its preparation. To my surprise, the stove was piled high with Styrofoam containers from prior meals—leftovers. Miss Lillian had insisted that those people EAT those leftovers before anything new was prepared!

       Joey and I were fine with that! Tossing boxes of lunch at the residents was easy enough! Then, complications set in. Someone donated a gallon of fresh (delicious) chicken salad. I minced some celery and dill pickles to add to it. Someone else donated 6 fresh, hot pizzas, and yet other donations included water melons and salad. Miss Lillian's directives didn't stand a chance… york york…

       So there were many comments about the food. Many came to the counter expecting to find one of my "Sunday creations," and were downcast when they saw the Styrofoam boxes. Pizza lifted their spirits, though. Still, they wondered why I had not created something special, and I told them honestly that I was following orders from the top. They understood. One fellow stopped to talk about a particular piece of meat that Lillian and Joey serve. "When Joey cooks it, I like it; but, when Miss Lillian cooks it, it's like getting a slab of raw beef!" Uh huh.

       In the end, only one box of BBQ meatballs was taken, the chicken salad and pizza were consumed, and everyone left satisfied. They didn't leave without mentioning how nice it would be if I made quiche again… Which reminds me: Joey made up a pot of "my soup" one day last week, and he followed my "recipe" for which cans to open… and he said he got rave reviews. Yep, a can of spaghetti sauce and a can of refried beans can make most anything else pleasing to the palate.

       Two tiny boys came to lunch with their mother. I gave each of them a stuffed toy. My 6-year-old darling was there with her parents, and I took the dearth of other children as my opportunity to give my little girl a special bag of goodies that I'd fixed for her weeks ago. The child is so reticent—her eyes grow big when she sees her Sunday treasures, and she smiles brightly, but her thank-yous don't come out until Mom and Dad remind her. Mom brought her to the kitchen later, saying the child wanted to give me a hug—probably Mom wanted to give me a hug. Sweet little things, both of them.

       Oh, and the tall, handsome, extra heavy fellow who left last week? Joey says his disability is that he hears threatening voices… sad.

       Another tall, handsome resident came in today, late. He nearly missed lunch, and he was so upset about the bad week he'd had. He started right in telling me how bad it was. Seems there was a nearby company that promised him work, say, on the 20th of June… then it was pushed up 5 days… and another 5… until his time at the shelter is running out and he still hasn't a job. I never thought to tell him to have more than one fish on the line… maybe I'll get a chance next week.

       Mr. Huggy showed up around 12:30—with a hug. He's feeling much, much better.

       Joey's making fried chicken for dinner. They're gonna love that.

NO. 109

       Hard to believe, but this is shelter-kitchen post #109. Looking back, much has changed, and not much has changed. I'll never take the can opener for granted, and I've come to accept that there will never be good knives that "stay" in that kitchen.
       Joey has a knock-down, drag-out sinus infection—so he "let" me prepare all the food. I was going to anyway. We made 8 quiches (cheese & broccoli for the vegans), and bacon and cheese (and broccoli) for the normal folks. We served steamed broccoli and fruit cocktail on the side. Each slice of quiche was finished off with a black olive on a toothpick. Just like last time, there were wonderful reviews and many thank-yous, but I'll be honest, that kitchen was hotter 'n hell today, and I won't be planning to BAKE anything until this "real summer" lets up.
       Rick is still keeping the gate. He's much more relaxed than when he first came there—and why not?
       Phil was at lunch, and obviously happy. Still can't imagine how he got in prison in the first place. One of our other pre-release fellows is having his last day today. He was almost sad to be leaving. I asked him what kind of job he was going to, and he said he was "waiting for disability." Here again, the world confuses me. This is a tall, very overweight, strong, handsome young man. He's been working out, so he pumped up his arm, and asked me to feel his muscle. It felt like a boulder! So I encouraged him to lose weight (he's lost 40 pounds while at the shelter), and let him know that he's a handsome man. Then he gave me a full rundown of his recent physical: perfect blood count, blood pressure, blood sugar, cholesterol... everything. Healthy as a horse. It's true that he may be emotionally disabled, but it just doesn't show when he comes to Sunday lunch… I wish him well.
       The family with the 6-year-old girl is still there. I think a lot of that young couple. The family with the greedy kids has left, and another family has come in—a mother and four pre-schoolers. I didn't get to meet them. The adorable 2-year-old is still there, but she wasn't at lunch either. Honestly? It was NICE having an opportunity to spoil my favorite 6-year-old without having to consider the feelings of others.
       On the whole, today's time at the shelter was fairly bland—probably a good thing. Stay cool.

NOT TODAY, SORRY...

       Joey took today off, Miss Lillian is working in his stead, and she brought her own help. (My feelings are absolutely NOT hurt.)
       I hope the folks aren't too disappointed—there's no way to let them know. I'm sure they're stir crazy with this heat, too. Nothing we can do. Next week, God willing.