DEFINE CRUSTY

       Doug's undies were in a major wad when I sloshed through the rain and up the steps to the kitchen's back door. He and the gatekeeper, Crusty Old Gal, were going over the Christmas menu—ham, potato salad, sweet potato casserole, green beans, rolls, dessert. Soon the old gal wandered back to her gatekeeper's post, leaving Doug free to unload, and unload he did!

       The dearth of gatekeepers is so bad that we have only 3 or 4 now, and they are working 12-hour shifts. Crusty hasn't had to work a Sunday in a very long time. I like the old gal, but Doug, he just doesn't understand her—or maybe he's a bit intimidated: she IS the senior honcho. Anyway, he let out a stream of discontent that would have frightened the pre-release! He was angry with attitudes around there; he was NOT giving up his two days off because the higher-ups couldn't get their business together… he would walk away from that job in a New York minute, and furthermore, he already has another offer with better pay.

       Of course, the other offer is not in a pleasant place, and he's totally in love with the shelter, but he was hell-bent on letting off some steam. I told him, "Don't make me take you out behind the barn for an attitude adjustment!"

       About an hour passed before he admitted that his frustrations were around the fear of having his Christmas meal compared with Miss Lillian's feasts—what a silly boy! Then I heard him explaining the morning's events to another person, and how he's "over it" now. He'd simply forgotten that Lillian's bacon-greased foods were nothing to live up to—not to mention the sour turkeys that she pre-cooked 2 weeks in advance.

       I did remember to ask after the man with lung cancer. He doesn't live there anymore. Make a note: When Crusty and I went to the food pantry for some canned goods, we noticed two people hunkered just outside the partially open front door. One of them had an umbrella. They were smoking. No one cared. The dying man, however, had been "caught" just outside the door, smoking, and was thrown out. It begs the question: do the people who run that place ever pray for those who live there, and if they do, as Joey once asked, "How do they fix their mouths to talk like that?"

       Doug spent the entire morning slicing large pre-cooked hams. He's preparing a pineapple glaze to drizzle over them. I made lunch for the 5,000 (which were only about 32). Crusty's letting me into the pantry made for the best possible soup—she ate a huge bowl of it herself, as always.

       We served tuna salad, fruit cocktail and crackers on the side. I made up four plates with sardines (instead of tuna salad), and those plates were sought-after. Two of them had the spicy sardines from the mystery box! I slipped a pack of gum to the man who wanted some last week, then had to remind him to put it in his pocket!

     Angry Mom—Honey, I was so ready for her! I made up plates for her and her boys, omitting the tuna salad which they do not eat. When she tried to pressure me about the food, I just pushed those three plates toward her and said, "Here's your lunch." Her boys each got a pack of gum. Later, she came to the counter asking Doug if "ham!" was the only meat he was serving for Christmas. I wonder if she celebrates Christmas and wants special attention about the pork thing. We get a lot of that.

       My boy came to lunch today! His smile and wave were just over the top. Remember those months when the child wouldn't even look at me? Today, I filled a large lunch sack with goodies for him. "Don't open this in front of the others," I warned him. "Yours is a lot today because you weren't here last week, and the week before that, and the week before that…" He grinned sheepishly, and I asked, "Can I have a hug?"

       Well… when all the feeding was said and done, Doug and I packed about 40 sack lunches, then about 20 PBJ lunches, and he was cleared to settle back and let tonight's dinner finish cooking. He's got it under control now, and best of all, his shorts are untangled.