ME AND MY OLD MAN

      Poor Doug stopped at McDonald's this morning to get a coffee on his way to work. The drive-thru was backed up, so he went inside. They sold him a "senior coffee." That did not go over well, seeing as how he's several years shy of senior. The cashier then took the extra money he thrust at her (for a "younger person's coffee") and apologized, using his graying beard as her excuse.

       Apparently, that wasn't enough hounding for Doug—he told the story to the pre-release fellow who hangs out in the dining room on Sunday morning, and that guy pushed the issue even farther. "As his wife," I said, "I can certainly understand why people think he's a senior." Bless his heart.

       He's still puny with the upper respiratory bug he was coming down with last Sunday, but today he's putting in his first whole workday all week. One day, the boss even made him go home. So I'm glad to see him rallying.

       For lunch, Doug made his famous potato soup, and I took a gallon of vegetable/beef soup that I made last night. We served crackers, chicken salad and fruit on the side. As she does every morning, Angry Mom strode into the dining room around 10:30 to ask about the lunch menu. Doug has to bite his tongue every day; that woman is hell-bent on getting as much attention as she can, and manipulating things, whether they need it or not. When she learned that the menu contained no pork, she had nothing to complain about, so she asked what was for dinner. That too is porkless.

       We served at least 50 meals today and many second helpings of everything on the menu. It was a good feeling to have an abundance of food. And speaking of that, one of our sources has cut us off because of other commitments, and we're having to buy more of our food than usual.

       The pre-release were in good spirits, and I was anxious to see what sort of greeting the tall, porkless intimidator had for me today. I checked his name off of the lunch chart and greeted him warmly. About 15 minutes later, he came to the counter for more soup. "Which kind would you like?" I asked.

       "Potato—two bowls," he said seriously. I'm guessing he was looking for a fight because I was stingy with the quiche last week, but he got two bowls of soup and a smile. Later, he returned to the counter to talk to Doug, and he asked when were we going to have that "egg stuff" again. I told him it was quiche, he practiced the word, and I said, "If you'll bring me 5 eggs, I'll make you your very own." No, he wants to share it with Doug. One of these days, maybe I'll make him a quiche and slip it in there on the sly. See? Almost nobody is as badass as some folks want us to think they are. He's just a big baby underneath—asking for more egg pie.

       When the residents came, their line went far into the hall. Many of the faces were familiar, and many were new. Angry mom was front and center, of course. Her younger boy wanted one of my sardine plates, but Mom told him he wouldn't like it. She wanted hers and the boys' lunches and some special grape-flavored bottles of water. The drinks that we'd provided at the drink station didn't suit her. Then she wanted honey bread. I told the twit, "You'll have to wait until I've served everyone else. Come back in a little while."

       As soon as the line went down, Doug pulled me aside and said, "I am so proud of you!" Of course, I hadn't done anything heroic, but I had done what he yearns to do himself, and he got the vicarious thrills of watching.

       Our newer family (with 3 girls) is so very delightful! Last week, I reported two girls, but the oldest one is a teenager, and I didn't realize she was a kid. The baby's nose isn't running today and she took quite an interest in the lady who brought two little bowls of soup for her and smashed up peaches for her dessert. Her older sister gasped with delight when I appeared with gum  and a white angel Beanie bear for her.

       As I approached Angry Mom's boys with round, plastic containers each holding 60 pieces of gum, one of them sneered, "Baby toy!"

       "Not," I said.

       Someone in the room snickered.

       "What are you supposed to do with this?" one of them asked. I told him it was gum but not to chew it all in one day or he might get plugged up. (More snickers.) I ended with, "You could share it with everyone else."

       So the boys took their big caches of gum, but a few minutes later, the younger one came to the counter and wanted to exchange his, "Can I get spearmint; I don't like peppermint." He'd already begun to peel off the seal.

       "No," I said. "I don't have any more, but you can say thank-you." I don't have any more smiles for that child either. He is his mother's boy.

       Again, Doug was dancing a jig behind the warming oven, like a devious elf in the forest… "I'm just so proud of you, Miss Joy!"

       When everyone had left and I was up to my elbows in huge dirty pots, the Crazy One came in. She always comes late, but we'd put six plates away for latecomers, at Gatekeeper's request. So she came in chatting effusively about her new volunteer position with an exercise program. After a month there, she will have a paying position, and (surprise) the exercises actually made her feel more energetic. Doug said that last week this woman had taken him to task about the ingredients in her Twinkie—were the listed ingredients actually what was IN the Twinkie—because she got off of drugs 3 years ago, and she's not about to go back! I'm thinking her brain has suffered quite a bit from that sojourn.

       After that, a young man came for his lunch. "Are you one of those who went to church?" I asked. No, he was just late. "Well, next time," I said, "just say you were at church because you're really, really late."
       I put together PBJs this morning—as many as 4-1/2 loaves of bread would make. Doug wouldn't let me sack them after lunch, so I signed out—another 3 hours in my favorite place. It's time to make a Play-Doh run. I wonder if the Greedy One will call it a baby toy.

Sardines, crackers, potato soup, and fruit cocktail.