The incessant rain has let up
long enough for folks to get outside, and outside they were this morning.
Sadly, no one got up as I struggled with my heavy bags. Prince
Charmings don't reside there very often. Lanyard Guy is back at the desk. Good
to see him.
Dean and his bride were hard
at the dinner prep—ham, sweet-a-taters, and green beans. Miss Lillian had left
the lunch menu written out:
Dean: chicken salad
Miss Joy: pot luck
I had taken a large bowl of
homemade spaghetti sauce with meat, so that made a great starter for the soup.
We had fresh potatoes (and new knives!!!). All that bitching I did about knives
did nothing. Dean comes along and mentions the need, and whammo—super-fabulous,
extra-sharp, assorted knives. He got other stuff too! It's amazing!
The soup pot got my sauce, a cup of
refried beans, 4 huge spuds, frozen peas/carrots/corn, several large cans of
chicken, a can of tomato sauce, a pint of green beans, a box of beef broth, 1/2
cup fresh celery, water, a cup of elbow macaroni, rave reviews, and scraped
clean.
One little old fellow with a
crutch came to the counter for a third
bowl.
A handsome 50-something guy called me "Babe," and
wanted a special soda. When he'd eaten, he complimented lunch and added,
"Thanks, Babe." We were not amused.
Children. Just when you think
there's a lull, there isn't. Our regular little girl was there with her
gargantuan parents. She was smiling today! And our two babies are gone, but we
have a new baby and its big sister
who is about 11. That child has "eye-roll attitude" all over her
face! I feel so sorry for her! It's not enough that she's been reduced to
living in a shelter, but her mother embarrasses her SO! No, her mother is not
abnormal in any way that I can see… it's just this child's time of life. She
refused to take any of the food, and
stood her ground, calling her mother down for not answering my "room
number?" question fast enough. So I stepped to the pantry and fetched a
bright blue Beanie bird and a little bag of candies & gum. I held them out
to the child, and she just stared at me. Then she looked at her mother. What to
do?
"Happy Sunday!" I
said. And her mom said something cheerful and approving, so the child took the
gifts and appropriately lit up with delight. Just made my day.
Every time Dean's wife and I
would try to put away the leftovers, another person would straggle in, rubbing
the sleep from their eyes. And the extra-large fellow visited the counter several
times. I did not want to give him the very last bowl of soup (and sure enough,
we needed it for someone who'd had no lunch), so I offered him a ham sandwich,
which pleased him.
Still, stragglers came in, and
in the end, we made several plates with just chicken salad, fruit and crackers.
That soup was GONE!
A dear man came to the counter
on his way out and asked if I had made the soup, saying he liked it so much, and I
hear stories about requests for "the soup" when I'm not there. It's a
shame the residents are not given that kind of nutrition every day. The chicken
salad had 35 mg of cholesterol per serving—prefab death in a plastic tub!
To my disappointment, our transgender helper
couldn't be with us today, but she's supposed to
be there next week.
Speaking of "not
there," we never see Mr. Huggy anymore. Word has it that Miss Lillian gave
him the BOOT about being in her kitchen! Works for me.
Another day, another 50¢.
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