SEVEN INCHES OF SNOW—on THURSDAY

      "Doug? You got anybody helping you today?"

       "No, Miss Joy; all the volunteers called in, and the three people who're working had to stay overnight."

       "You want me to come in?"

       "Miss Joy, the roads are bad. You shouldn't come out."

       Right there, when he told me not to, I knew I was going, but first I had to shovel a path to my car and clear 7 inches of snow off of it. I let it run for about half an hour, and that helped a lot with clearing off the car itself. And, bless her heart, Car trekked right out into that deep, crunching frozen stuff, down the road, into town, and up to the front parking lot of the shelter.

       Every soul who is housed there was at lunch. I failed to count, but maybe 60. Doug made potato soup, cream of broccoli soup, and corn dogs. We're out of crackers, bread is running short, plates are running short. Canned drinks are being rationed for the sack lunches, but some benevolent secret soul left several dozen gallons of orange juice on the back porch.

       Tall, dark handsome Intimidator was surprised to see the Sunday Lady on a Thursday. "How are you?" he asked, big baby that he is… All of the RCC were in especially good spirits. Again, before their half hour was quite over, the homeless residents came boldly to the counter—it was noon, and they can tell time. Angry Mom took food for herself and her boys, but I never saw the boys. She said she wasn't bringing them to the dining room until she was finished eating, "because they just jump around and go wild." Of course they do; they're cooped-up children with lots of energy! Oh, sigh.

       The little girl and the baby were there, and I got to HOLD that baby! I haven't held a baby in years! She felt so good…

       The Crazy One appeared at the counter, the first thing out of her mouth being, "I don't eat beef."'

       "That's okay," I told her, passing by on my way to the sink.

       "I don't eat beef," she repeated.

       "That's okay," I said again. She frowned, took two bowls of soup and walked away. Of course, Doug misses nothing. He was gloating and listening. Shortly, Crazy came to the counter and asked Doug if there was pork in the corndogs. When he told her they were beef, she took one. She ate it, too!

       Besides serving up dozens of plates, I made 90 sandwiches and sacked them into 45 lunch bags with drinks, chips and some candies that I found in the back. I hurt pretty much all over.

       "You coming in on Sunday?" Doug asked, as I headed for the door.
      "Like having served my time on Thursday would get me out of Sunday? Are you kidding? Sunday here is mine."