LOOK WHAT THE BUNNY BROUGHT

      A full parking lot forced me again to park behind the building and climb the stairs to the back kitchen door. I knocked often and hard, and I could hear voices inside, but there was no response. Finally, I called the front desk and Cutie Pie  gatekeeper let me in. I haven't seen him in weeks, so that was a nice surprise. The voices I'd been hearing were pre-release folks having coffee in the dining room. They aren't allowed to enter the kitchen, so all they could do was listen to my knocking.

       Yes, the kitchen was half dark, and Cutie was expecting Dean and our newly hired cook but, there at nearly 10 a.m., neither had appeared. I was preparing to rummage through the big fridge when Dean unlocked the back door and stepped inside. What a relief! He had Miss Lillian's little instruction sheet for the weekend meals, and we started by gathering the things on her list. Dean's undies were in such a knot! Last night he'd made a nice meal for everyone, but when someone asked who had cooked it, Mr. Huggy loudly took all the praise. I don't think Dean is going to let that go anytime soon.

       We were getting our lunch ducks lined up when Doug, the new guy, arrived. Dean met him yesterday and had said he thought I might like him. By the end of lunch today, we were both certain  that we like Doug. He's easy-going, cheerful, knowledgeable about food (we've been needing that), and he has a face with unforgettably character-filled features, as are his charm and good nature. Mr. Huggy has at least three people to avoid in the kitchen now!

       Lunch evolved somewhat from the original plans because the leftover soup had soured and Doug threw out the leftover pizza and fries—Go, Doug! He will not serve gooey, non-nutritious foods, and on top of that he diced onions and bacon to add to our pot of green beans. Unlike Miss Lillian, Doug thinks our people should be spoiled.

       So Lillian isn't leaving for another few months. I was wondering how such a drastic and sudden change could work. Now I know. Dean still wants to have a secondary position in the kitchen, and he's very interested in going for his GED—as a grandfather! I really admire the man, and I promised to help in anyway I can.

       For Easter, I boiled and dyed 5 dozen eggs, for the shelter. I put them in a huge bowl in front of the serving counter, where folks could help themselves. The first pre-release to stick his hand in the bowl took FOUR! Others were taking 2, 3, and 4. I had to speak to them! Still, they persisted in being greedy, and I guess some of the "Sunday" will be missing from my "Sunday Lady" name now (or maybe the "Lady"). Anyway, there were enough to go around to both groups, so all's well.

       Yes, I took Beanies and crayons for the little girls, but they are away for the weekend. Lanyard Guy (who came in around noon) will give them the treasures I left. Dean has taken to expecting a toy for his grandson every Sunday… "Did you remember the toy you promised me last week? — That's why I love you so much!"

       They're all kids—every single one of them—sneaking, grabbing, waiting for toys. Well… it gives me something to do.

       I had fun asking Doug why he wasn't using the electric can opener, as he deftly opened a #10 can with the "good" one. He can't make the electric one work, he says. Neither can Dean, and they both think the newer one is wonderful. I gave Doug its history and its cleaning record. He indicated that he'd be on top of that from now on. Something tells me he will, too.

       Dean and I showed Doug how we serve up 40 meals, filling the plates assembly-line style, and he showed us his great food skills. Doug says he's going to enjoy working with me—we both love to give the people all they want to eat, as does Dean. Of course, if Huggy is in the building (as he was yesterday), he will tell Doug in a New York minute that "NO, the people cannot have bigger portions!" Doug is anxious to show Mr. Huggy that he is the paid cook and Hugs is just a volunteer.

       I am on tenterhooks to see how this all plays out.

       Dean and I made up 25 PBJ sacks and explained why they only get sugar-free drinks. That "rule" has been changed right in front of my face lately. Joey taught it to me; Miss Gloria denied it; Dean brought it back, and now it's been passed down to Doug.

       All in all, it was a very satisfying morning. I would like to be a fly on the wall when Hugs strides in this afternoon to orchestrate the evening meal (which, by the way, is not his job and is already planned and underway). Doug said something about having to put his foot down with Huggy, and I demonstrated the bug-smashing step for him, so he could add some of my wishes to that. Okay, we're not nice. We don't care. It's high time the place returned to some semblance of normalcy!

HELL IN A HAND BASKET

      There was plenty of parking out front, so I entered by way of Gatekeeper's desk today. For those of you who remember Brenda (health food nut/took over my prep table nuisance), she is now the night-shift gatekeeper. One of the residents let me in, and Brenda never looked up. Passing down the long hall toward the dining room, I was shocked at the hoards of rolling dust bunnies. Dean was so obviously not having time to be a full-time custodian and a half-time cook.

       He was rushing through some dinner prep when I arrived. In fact, he rushed through everything. Several times, he left me alone to mind the deep fryer, and I noticed when I left that the floors had been swept. Poor man.

       We were going to serve onion rings and corn dogs, but the fryer stopped working every time we dropped a basket of (frozen) corn dogs. Apparently, those need to be thawed before deep frying. We did cook onion rings, and Dean found some fresh chicken salad, so lunch was good.

       The little girls were in attendance, and were again surprised with their Beanies and candies. I marvel at how well adjusted they are. Their mom is quiet and kind, but I can see the weary on her face.

       We've an older man among our homeless—white hair, suspenders, a painful gait—where does he go from here?

       When Brenda's shift ended, last week's new fellow took over—Lanyard Guy. He came to the kitchen and we exchanged pleasantries. Seems like a hard job, but those who assume it appear to ride easy, even if they don't last long in the saddle.

       As the second group cleared out, Lanyard Guy came to ask us if we could feed one more. "There's a man out there who says he hasn't eaten all day."

       Dean said to just send the man back to the dining room. I was looking for some poor, ragged street dweller, and was surprised when a very young man strode in with a large backpack.

       "I'm on spring break," he said. "My parents threw me out."

       So that wrapped up lunch. Dean and I used the very last two clean aprons. The kitchen floor hasn't been swept in awhile. I did clean the awfully nasty wonderful can opener. It had never been cleaned…

       The scuttlebutt is no longer so vague. Miss Lillian has turned in her resignation. No one has been found to replace her, but one person has applied. Dean gave up his second job to fill in when Joey left, and now he won't be able to get that back. He would like to have a place in the kitchen, but they told him he'd need a diploma… The shelter offered to help him get one, but the person in charge of prisoners said they still would not allow him to work in the kitchen. We've no idea why or how he is "allowed" to do that now. Mr. Huggy is not a paid employee, but he is working often in the kitchen, in spite of his nasty personal habits.

       I stood at the hand-washing sink this morning, looking out the little window into a cold rain. Joey was like a pin that held up a bridge; the whole thing has crumbled. I can't see past the rain.

HEALED BY MEDICAL SCIENCE— WORKING BY THE GRACE OF GOD

      I was sick, I tell ya! Two weeks of pillow fluffing and chicken soup. Boy was it good to get back in the shelter-kitchen saddle today!

       Spring is toying with us! The windows are open. The parking lot and the shelter are full. I was sure these circumstances were paired with bone-chilling weather. Not.

       Dean had the back door open, and I found him lying on the floor, trying to crank up the deep fryer. Miss Lillian had ordered pizza and onion rings for lunch, but the fryer refused to budge. A phone call soon enlightened Dean: the fryer had been "turned off" in such a way as to keep it off until some special person did some special thing to it. Doesn't matter.

       He looked at me. "What can we make to go with this pizza?"

       I found some fries in the freezer, but they too required deep-frying. I'm sure you know my ultimate solution… and the brew was good, if I say so myself.

       We had a dozen or more cold plates of beans and cabbage with cornbread and macaroni 'n cheese, and Mr. Huggy had left instructions to serve out a half gallon of beets. We were going to throw those out and keep it a secret, but I decided to put the beets on the serving counter in little bowls, just in case someone had a taste for them. They did.

       There's a new gatekeeper, and he seems capable, but he's just learning the ropes. I was shocked to learn that Dean has not yet figured out who eats first (and what), after his many weeks in this service. So I told him, "The pre-release eat first and best." Now he knows. I can't imagine the stink that would have ensued if he had served the homeless residents first!

       The new gatekeeper didn't know the drill either, but he's a nice guy, and I guess I'll see more of him. It felt quite odd having two middle-aged men looking to The Sunday Lady for guidance.

       Dean had the best time feeding people today! He even took food into the dining room and served extras—Lillian would have had a stroke! He complained often and bitterly that Mr. Huggy is stingy with food and gives child-size portions. Of course, I don't witness those meals, but Dean says the people are really disappointed and unhappy when they leave the dining room after a Huggy meal. While Miss Lillian is still chief chef, these guys taking up the Joey slack aren't yet cutting muster—Huggy because he's stingy, and Dean because he's cowed. He loves it when I am there and we find ways to give the folks all the food they want, without cutting into Lillian's meal plans. Maybe some of my attitude will rub off on Dean. I hope so.

       We had two little girls today, about 9 and 10. I gave them each a Beanie bear and a candy bar. You should have been there! Those kids and their mother are some of the most appreciative that I've seen. It's a joy to give them things. They reveled in their new "babies," and very soon had those babies swaddled in little blankets and were skipping through the lunchroom in animated play. Dean watched them with a big smile on his face.

       And there was this fellow in that homeless group who saw me with the bears. "How cute!" he said. "I want one…"

       So, I got him a beautiful red-breasted robin from the toy bag, but he wanted a bear. "I don't have anymore bears today," I said.

       "What have you got?" he asked.

       "I have a rat…"

       "Oh! I'd love that!" he said. And he did. Then he slid it stealthily into his pocket, lest there be a run on the "me too" thing. He's got a child in mind for the rat—a little boy, I think. Dean had seen the bird and decided it would be perfect for his grandson. Everybody's happy.

       Well, this appears to be the new routine—the new staff. Joey won't be back, and he did nothing to precipitate his requested departure. It's just one of those very sad things that comes from places of authority and cannot be changed. Of course, he's still my buddy and I'll keep you posted on his GED progress.

NEW ROUTINES

       The parking lot was full this morning. I can only guess that the cars belong to the residents and possibly two workers. I wondered if it had anything to with the sub-freezing temperature. At any rate, I had to park behind the building and go in the back door—the door that I'm always so hesitant to answer. Dean let me in.

       Given time, everything changes. On Thursday, I was well. On Friday, I had some sinus issues. Yesterday, I stayed in bed with a sore throat. This morning, I felt much better, but I have a really snotty nose. Looks like an ordinary cold. So I sallied forth to the shelter, knowing I'd be wearing gloves all morning.

       Dean was glad to see me. He explained today's plan of attack and that he needed to finish some custodial duties while I held down the kitchen fort. Really, there was very little holding down to do. Several stacks of leftovers were on the stove and work table. One group of plates held hot dogs, coleslaw, and baked beans. The other stack, however, held only thick (mostly bread) pizza and fries.  Here, have some starch for lunch… 

       Dean gave me a pan of cold meatloaf which I put in the oven. He found three bags of coleslaw for me to dress, and I found some applesauce. There was chili warming on the stove and we had a small bowl of chopped onion.

       Mr. Huggy was in charge of Miss Lillian's prewritten dinner plan, and Dean was to get that ball rolling while the Hugs was at church. The list was chicken, peas, and broccoli/cheese. I asked if those were "green" peas? Dean thought they were.

       "Surely," I said, "he means some sort of brown or dried peas! Nobody wants two green vegetables at once!" (Not that such a menu would harm any of those nutrition-deprived shelter residents.) As I scanned the pantry, I saw several #10 cans of black-eyed peas. They're simmering now. Dean washed the chicken wings and put them in the cooler to await Mr. Huggy's administration.

       As the pre-release came through, I offered them their choice. I won't repeat the menu, but clearly, giving them so many choices makes a big difference in attitude. They really enjoyed lunch! The next group did too. Even Dean and I enjoyed it. We got to give people what they wanted and all they wanted. That's a first. Our gatekeeper was the lady I like so much; I left toys with her for the children.

        Dean thanked me for coming in, but I am The Sunday Lady; what else can I do? Miss Lillian never did do Sundays except in an emergency. Mr. Huggy has church bus duty, and I don't see any hope for turning back this clock.

       I didn't hang around after 12:30; changing gloves every time I needed to blow my nose was challenge enough. At the moment, things are going downhill again, but it's just that time of day.

       Went. Saw. Served.