LESS IS MORE

       There's a new pre-release, and he's awfully good-looking. I met him last week (shaved head, great smile, and very personable). We don't get too many who are endearingly outgoing. So there he was, walking some laps in the parking lot, when I arrived with my music just "out there." I got a big grin.
       Cutie Gatekeeper (no, I am NOT infatuated with every male in the place) let me in, and Doug was hard at work putting dinner together. Tonight they're having turkey baked with gravy, green beans (a Sunday-night ritual), and some bodacious candied yams. For lunch Doug said we could have anything I wanted to fix. Have you noticed that in the beginning I was there only to serve up what he had planned... and that now he's quite liberal with the soup ladle?
       There was more than enough in the mystery box to put together the best-yet soup. Honest. We served egg salad and applesauce on the side, and diners are always free to make a sandwich with their egg/chicken/ham salad.
       I finished making sandwiches for the PBJ sacks that Doug had started. Then I served up most of the lunch plates—we had about 35 guests. Several of the pre-release seem to be treating me more like a mom than a stranger lately. I like that. There are resident homeless to whom I've become attached also—no secret.
       One lone child lives there now—my little boy. The little girl's mother took her, and because the "dad" wasn't blood kin, he had no say. Also sad, no longer having a "dependent child," the man was put out. The report is that he was already beyond his limited time to stay there.
       So the three 400-pound people were nearly all gone, because the single one was critically ill and hospitalized last week. This week, she has returned to the shelter (or HE—truth be told). Having been clued in about the gender issue, I was eager to see this person again, just to understand how FAR OFF my gender-meter IS. It is FAR off. "She" came to the serving counter with "her" long bleached ponytail, her big earrings, makeup and pink shoes—and of course, "her" girth.
       Doug ASSURES me that "she" is a complete "he" underneath. And that's okay... it's just outside the box, and it takes one by surprise. SURPRISE!
       I had to leave a few minutes early today, to meet a friend, and I didn't see my little boy until I was passing through the foyer. I told him I had left him some candy and gum. (I don't like to leave a Beanie in a child's absence). Then I pulled the cutest orangutan Beanie from my bag. "I have the cutest-ever monkey, if you want him," I said. The child reached out his hand, barely touching the monkey. He wanted it, but he was awfully shy about letting that be known. I teased him unmercifully. "Oh," I said, after his first little tug, "only if you really want it." He tugged again, but oh, so gently... and I teased him until he gave it a sincere yank. "Good boy!" I said.
       I think we were both grinning from ear to ear as I left my Sunday "job." Really... I'm sure I cannot afford to pay for this exalted position—and yes, I still feel like I have some ownership in it. Don't say anything!