MONDAY?

       The kitchen seems to be falling apart at the seams. All the work Dean and I did yesterday to put Miss Lillian ahead of the game today… that was not even remotely visible when the woman arrived this morning—or is it ever. I know because I went in to help her.

       Careful scrutiny brought me to the facts: when the day shift leaves, that kitchen's fare is fair game. All the candy baggies I carefully prepared for sack lunches yesterday were scarfed up last night during "snack time." All the PBJ and regular lunch sacks that were made up ahead—gone.

       Lillian had a fellow wrapping doughnuts for her, but he ran out of steam and returned to the group home early on. I made up 25 sack lunches and 25 PBJ sacks. She helped me stuff in the cookies and fold down the bag tops. My back was killing me after 2 hours on concrete. Call me stupid, but I forgot to stand on the rubber mat (which stays UNDER the prep table).

       If you know any of our history, you'll recall how "territorial" Lillian and I used to be. That has fallen by the wayside. We are in this thing together now. She even turns on the CW music just for me—after all, she says, the gospel station was "just talking."

       I wish I could be there more often. Then again, it surely wouldn't be long before they'd find a way to get shed of me too. I'm too outspoken. Hang tight, you hear?