POWDERED SUGAR & SPRINKLES

      High winds were blowing the clouds away as I drove into town this morning. In every direction, the distant mountains were covered with a skiff of snow, as if dusted with a gigantic shaker of powdered sugar. The sun was shining brightly on the peaks, but town was gray and dismal.

       At the opposite end of the seasonal spectrum, I noticed masses of bright red tree blossoms sprinkled into heaps at the curbs, as if spring had only a moment to visit before being blown away. Circumstances crowded the dining room before and after lunch and called for another soup pot filled to the brim.

       Doug and I had the kitchen to ourselves today, and I admit that I enjoyed it! BOB has been denied a position he was hoping for there, so he probably won't be back. That leaves just me to open the door for the Christians, and today they were early! Fluffy didn't come. Perhaps she'd changed her mind about BOB or knew of his circumstances…

       Doug had a plentiful supply of chicken salad and #10 cans of fruit, but he didn't have anything else for lunch. The mystery box has been neglected lately, but I found several cans of Progresso Recipe Starters. I used 2 cans of "creamy portabella mushroom," one can of "creamy parmesan basil," and two cans of "creamy roasted garlic." They're quite flavorful, but not very pretty in a soup pot. To those we added a #10 can of pintos and another of green beans. We poured in 3 cans of chicken broth and a box of beef broth. There was a small can of Veg-All, and Doug had 6 bakers which I cut up and dropped in. This was stone soup's finest hour. When the brew was well done, I added five fistfuls of curly egg noodles to stretch it out. The huge pot was nearly full. In a small pot, I put another can of chicken broth, two cans of chicken noodle soup, and more egg noodles. This brew would come to our rescue if the main pot fell short. When all was said and done, there might have been 2 small bowls of soup left over. Doug declared it to be the best soup I've ever made. I reminded him that he witnessed it's creation, and there was a lot of luck in the pot.

       Angry Mom (and boys) are still with us—long after their allotted time. The woman had her boys seated at a table during the first 90 minutes I was there. She served them foods on plates (I don't know what foods). She stayed in that dining room right up until we had Gatekeeper announce that the pre-release could come in. She milked her remaining seconds by carefully wiping the table where she'd sat. She had come to the counter several times, asking for "cream" for her coffee and what's for lunch… and she knows my heart is hard where she is concerned. I need to work on that.

       To my delight, the pregnant pre-release was not sent back to prison "for being pregnant." Our generally mean and nasty Bureau of Prisons director decided the young woman could just "go home" 2 months early. Here is a rare opportunity to see the system get it right.

       The tall, handsome intimidator and the tall, handsome sweet one were at lunch together. They were both charming today. The nice one wanted some Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, but I could find none. I had put a marshmallow-filled chocolate heart (or a pack of gum) on each plate. While the mystery box goes begging, the candy box runneth over.

       Our homeless diners numbered about 30, and they stormed the dining room before being called in. One fellow has a rip-roaring case of pink eye (since last week), and I was warned to not touch anything he had touched—which begs the question: How do the others avoid that? Angry Mom did not bring the boys with her… When I asked her if they'd be coming to lunch, she said, "Not yet." They never came.

       "Somebody" punched a fist-sized hole in the hall wall, outside the dining room. His identity was determined, and Doug and Gatekeeper have the task of reporting him… or not. Doug was feeling "awfully guilty" when I left, but I reminded him that the next "wall" might be someone's face—a woman, or a child… It's not okay to do that.

       It was too cold to shoot hoops off the back porch; however, Doug has a friend who wants the loaves for her goats. This is much better than sending them to the landfill.

       As the tall, dark, handsome sweet one said on leaving, "Have a good week!"

ENTITLEMENT AND INELIGIBILITY

       After nearly a week of having "the crud," I dragged myself to the shelter this morning, knowing I'd feel the same here or there. Doug opened the back door and groaned at me—he has a sore throat. He'd brought his Millennial to work with him, and they were both miserable, but only Doug's discomfort was visible—he's a man.

       He was working hard to get lunch and dinner preparations in the oven, whining and holding his throat, as if he weren't going to be able to carry on much longer.

       I found two throat lozenges in my purse and gave them to him. His daughter and I didn't hear another peep about his throat, and everyone had a great morning in the kitchen!

       There were many of us there: BOB came in early because his church didn't hold services today. Dean (remember Dean from "before Doug?") Dean was in and out, doing custodial duties. That little turf was quite crowded for the first hour, and then we seemed to find a rhythm. Daughter and I sacked some PBJs, Doug put frozen pizza in the ovens and dropped some fries into the deep fryer. I put a bowl of canned fruit on the serving counter, and I made coffee at least three times. Others made coffee that many times as well.

       It's a chilly, wet day, and added to that is the fact that ALL of our pre-release are housebound for 3 weeks. Somebody brought beer into the building last week, and nobody wanted to say who, so everybody is being punished. Their families can visit with them on Sunday afternoons, but they are otherwise housebound unless they are at a job.

       I didn't get the whole scoop on one of our pre-release, but Doug found time to point to her, make the "she's pregnant" gesture, sweeping one arm out beyond his belly, and mouthing, "she's going back to prison." I watched her later as she came for more coffee, and I wondered…

       The 50-pound potato sacks of bread were piled deep near the back door when I arrived. Doug said they'd been delivered yesterday. The Christians who bring the bread are two women and a man. One of the women is extra fluffy. According to Doug, the fluffy one saw BOB working in the kitchen and asked Doug if Bob were married. Doug tried to squirm around giving specifics, but once the lady discerned that BOB is single, she told Doug to be sure and let BOB know she's available.

       First, there's nothing so outlandish about that. It happens all the time. It doesn't happen all the time when there are innumerable cultural differences dividing the lookees. So, while it's great that the bread is coming to the shelter fresher, I'd surely love to be there the next time Fluffy takes a shine to BOB. Come to think about it, who is going to open the door now?

       Tall, dark and intimidating, it turns out, is two people. I'm ashamed of myself for not seeing it sooner. They are both tall, dark, handsome, and sporting long, long braids. I have only seconds to look into each pair of eyes as I meet their needs at the serving counter. Today, TDI seemed to change personalities with each appearance at the counter.  He'd be grumpy and sullen, then sweet and kind. I was frankly relieved to realize there were two of them—otherwise, we'd have been looking at multiple personalities sharing a body, and that's just scary.

       A new member of the pre-release is gay. Sadly, Doug tells me, he eats alone and is extremely shunned. I recall how the gay homeless fellow we had a few weeks ago was not shunned.

       My little girl and the baby were at lunch, and I enjoyed giving them their goodies. On top of that, I found dozens of lollipops and tiny packs of gum in the candy bin, so I put a treat on every diner's plate. We served more second helpings than on any other Sunday I've witnessed. It must be the weather—but the comfort foods didn't hurt either.

       So that's about it. The crud and I held up for only 2-1/2 hours. I left Doug with two Tylenol and a couple of decongestant tablets. I can't help him with the Millennial—got one of my own.

是什么呢？

       Today was different in so many ways. Doug had plans with his family during the morning and lunch hours, so BOB and I were in charge. BOB sliced three large hams and had those baking when I arrived. He had sweet potatoes in the oven when I left. Doug was due in time to finish out the dinner hour, and I was delighted that we could afford him a few special hours with his family. There were numerous phone calls for Doug while I was there. BOB was quick to teach me how to say, "He's having problems with his truck, but he'll be here soon."
       As planned last week, I made the soup from the cans that I hauled around in my car all week. Thankfully, there were more usable canned goods in the mystery box, and I was able to make a very full pot of soup. It's raining today, and it's a cold rain, so we figured the crowd would need that much soup (they did). Doug had ordered a good supply of chicken salad for us, and mixed fruit.
       We had 17 pre-release, and about 25 homeless, but only one person questioned the food—a homeless Oriental man who speaks nearly no English. I tried very hard to understand his question, as he pointed to the chicken salad (or was it the soup?), and I asked kindly that he repeat it. Then I asked if he spoke French (any port in a storm). No. Finally, he gave up and thanked me for trying (not his words—I have no idea what his words were).
       It is most uncommon for us to have guests from other countries or of a race other than black or white. Our town is home to thousands of Mexican emigrants, but in my time there they have never taken advantage of the homeless shelter. I see them as a people who are most self-sufficient and tightly knit. Just reporting what I see…
       The tall, dark, handsome Intimidator was at lunch! I thought he had finished his time and moved on, but he hasn't. He has changed his hair-do, and I remarked on it. He's so laid-back anymore, just walking easy, and smiling… and coming to the counter to thank me for the "great lunch." I told him he missed the quiche, but he didn't seem to mind. He seems happy, and that is surely a good thing.
       So BOB and I were checking off the names, as the pre-release came to lunch. When all were seated, I counted 17 heads but only 16 checked-off names. Not knowing those folks as well as Doug does, BOB and I couldn't tell who had not been checked off, so he suggested I ask a fellow who's been there a long while and who is quite personable. I took the check-off list into the dining room and asked the fellow if he could identify the missing name. He said he couldn't. Then a young man came up to me smiling and said, "I didn't give my name! It's Johnson."

       "Thanks!" I said. Then, turning to the crowd, all of whom were listening, I said (completely without thinking), "Never mind. He turned himself in."
       I would have just died of mortification, except that the entire group was smiling from ear to ear, especially the guilty party. Whew.
       The homeless group has a lot of new faces. Oddly, they blend as if one enormous neglected person split into 20 people of both genders and all about the same size. Other than the mothers of some of our children, I saw no familiar faces, and none of the children was at lunch. Gatekeeper confirmed that Angry Mom's kids were with their dad, so I was spared having to report her for leaving them in the room…
       Right on time, the Christians brought their five 50-pound potato sacks of bread. BOB completely ignored their knocking and did nothing to help me greet and thank them, but he did shove several bags that I had deemed unfit into the dumpster. He had no interest in shooting baskets or going out for a long pass. I like BOB, but he's awfully serious! Maybe if he had a job, he'd be more upbeat… I know that works for me.

       

PLEASANTVILLE...

       Doug had today's lunch planned to be as easy as possible. He deep fried chicken nuggets, home fries, and onion rings. I cored and quartered a bowlful of apples (he says I'm spoiling the residents), and I took some little skewers with cubes of pepper jack and cheddar cheese alternated with black and green olives. Those are always a big hit.
       Other than cutting up the apples, I was at loose ends before serving time, so I made 35 PBJs for BOB to sack this afternoon. Yes, he still comes right after church, and that cute gal who helped with the Christmas meal and who has my same last name still comes every Saturday. If I quit this job, somebody would slide in there so fast I'd never be able to get back on the ride!
       Angry Mom and her boys spent some time in the dining room before lunch, and came again for their meal. My girl and the baby were seen earlier, all dressed up, but they didn't come to lunch, so I assume they had a better Sunday than would have been possible cooped up at the shelter… but I missed them.
       Next week, Doug has an event to attend with one of his own children, so BOB and I will be the Sunday lunch cooks—solo! Doug put a sack of canned goods from the mystery box in my car for soup (lest it disappear during the week), and he will order chicken salad for us to serve. We'll be fine, but I'll miss him.
       There is a lot of ill will and odd behavior among the staff, from the top down. Miss Lillian again had Joey as her helper, one day last week. Someone commented that it was "just like old times." Again, she did not order the foods that Doug needed, but he says the milk will run out on her day, so there will be payback. It was also mentioned that the head of the whole shelter went ballistic on every member of the staff last week. Another rumor has it that the Crusty Old Gal I like so much might be let go, and would Doug like to have her job? It is said that she is far behind in her paperwork and does little. To Doug's surprise, he learned that none of the "social workers" there has any sort of qualifying degree for their positions. Crusty is the "head" of gatekeeping-with-form-filling, and if Doug wanted her job, he could have it—along with more pay. He doesn't want it. Neither would I.
       So there you have it—this place that the destitute and the delinquent are obliged to call home is about as dysfunctional as anyplace else they might occupy. The state inspector is due this week. I understand that there will be hell to pay for the deplorable conditions in the homeless men's area. Crusty is in charge of that…
       The Christians came to the shelter much earlier this week, on one of Miss Lillian's days. They had dozens of fresh doughnuts. Lillian told them, "these people don't need that stuff," and sent the Christians packing. Lillian is right, to some extent, but as long as she will pour bacon grease on fresh broccoli, she hasn't a leg to stand on when it comes to nutrition. And rude is unacceptable.
       Maybe next week will be filled with laughter and warm fuzzies. This week was reality's turn.
     
     

SONS, SIGNS, AND SINS

       My first-born son came to town yesterday and accompanied me to the shelter this morning. I had introduced him to Doug some weeks ago, and he wanted to join us for the Sunday adventure. We went prepared to bake 12 quiches, and we worked hard to get them in the ovens in time. Doug took advantage of our cooking and mopped the dining room.

       All of the quiches had cheese, some with broccoli, some with mushrooms, some with sausage, and some with most of the above. Doug had the sausage cooked and ready when we arrived. It's not easy whipping up 12 quiches…

       I was tickled to have an extra pair of eyes watching the ovens. We had applesauce and cheese grits on the side. My son made the grits. Near the end of the first group's meal, we realized we didn't have enough grits and started another pot. Naturally, much of that was left over, but it will be devoured as baked squares tomorrow.

       The boys got on well. I was especially pleased, because that is Doug's kitchen, and my son is general manager of a restaurant. At the shelter, they were a team and Doug's place in the hierarchy was safe.

       No one complained about the food. Not a soul! We had a very few who carefully avoided pork, but otherwise, the food was not questioned. Angry Mom came to the dining room mid-morning to ask about the menu, as she always does. At lunch she demanded extras, such as, "go back to the walk-in fridge and get more grated cheese for me." Doug says her time there will run out in less than 2 weeks.

       But before the homeless were invited to the dining room, we needed time to get the new pot of grits cooked. Because the pre-release had come in a bit early, they finished early. The groups are not allowed to occupy the dining room at the same time, so as the last pre-release headed toward the door, I called to him, "Hey! Can you please stay in here 5 more minutes so we can get the next group's food ready?"

       I know this young man, and he has a sense of humor. "What'll you give me?" he grinned.

       "A pack of bubble gum!" I promised.

       "Make it three packs, and you've got a deal," he said.

       Yes, I had enough.

      Doug had some very interesting details to impart about this past week: Miss Lillian came in Monday through Wednesday—her new part-time schedule. On Wednesday, JOEY joined her! He was said to have been asking for his job back. It's too deep to go into here, and I'll never understand what makes that machine tick, but for Joey to have a job there, somebody would need to leave. I'm just wondering: Were Wednesday's events a sign of things to come?

       The other event of mention this past week involved one of our pre-release who was due to get OUT in just 3 more weeks. I liked that young man! He always seemed so agreeable and easy-going. Obviously, Sunday mornings aren't long enough to give me great insight. Mr. Agreeable left "to go to work" one day but spent the day with his girl friend instead. The chain of events involved his cell phone. The pre-release are not allowed to have cell phones. He was caught. Federal lawmen approached the shelter from the front and back doors. They told Doug to stay out of the way, in case the young man tried to flee through the kitchen. (Doug says he was willing to dive under the work table, no matter how little space might be under there.)

        The young prisoner was apprehended without incident. He was sentenced to FIVE YEARS for leaving the premises for a place other than his job. He was given ANOTHER YEAR for having possession of a cell phone.

       When you think about it, that young man truly did not want to be free. He doesn't feel comfortable in the free world. Prison can be so comfortable, with it's scheduling and guaranteed provisions. Well.

       The Christians arrived right on time with three 50-pound potato sacks of week-old bread. I sent my son to greet them and thank them. I wanted him to have the experience. Doug says a woman came to the kitchen a few days ago with 300 fresh doughnuts. She's from the stale-bread church, but she swore Doug to secrecy, because her fellow church-goers prefer to pick over the goods before giving them to the shelter, and she just wanted to give them to us while they were fresh—sneaking, sinning, subterfuge.

       In the end, we had two sacks to shoot hoops with. Good times.

       Angry Mom's boys got their goodies, after they made a point of ASKING, "Do we get goodies?" I hate it that she has taught them to expect to be catered to like that—as she expects for herself…

       As my son and I were leaving, the baby and the little girl were walking up the sidewalk with their moms. It's the baby's 1st birthday, and I was happy to have an opportunity to give them the goodies that I'd taken for them.

       We're tired. I don't have a not-tired place on my body.