POTPOURRI ON WHEELS

      Doug was at his post, filling baking sheets with pizza when I arrived. First, he apologized for "being an ass today," in spite of having only said hello. He wanted to get a jump on anything unseemly that I might see in his behavior, as he had taken yesterday off to bury a loved one, and Miss Lillian had left the place in ruins. Needless to say, Doug's attitude was in a knot; but, after sweeping up a load of spilled coffee grounds and other trash, he threw those pans of pizza in the ovens and settled down.

       "I ain't givin' them nothin' but pizza and fries today," he announced. No amount of whining on my end would sway him to give "my children" some fruit. Furthermore, Lillian had left him practically bereft of sack lunches, then she'd had the nerve to leave a note about their distribution (all must be accounted for), and she had signed it "Staff."

       The head cook and bottle washer was not happy with any of that, but I made him 32 sack lunches, and by the time I left, we'd fed everyone and he had dinner in the oven. His brain had already gone home to watch the race (don't know anything about no races, but it's a big one).

       As always, I poked around in the pantry for goodies, and I found about a dozen packages of cupcake decorations—little cars from the Disney movie, "Cars." Those candies are very hard, but that's what makes them stand up to being set in frosting, and they're awfully cute! I took them from their packages and added them to the bag of tiny packs of gum for additions to each plate.

       So each plate had two pieces of pizza, fries, gum, and a candy car. I feel the need to say here that today's pizza was the worst we've ever served. The bread didn't rise, so it was gummy, and instead of a tomato-based sauce, there was something white and seemingly nonexistent on top. If there was cheese, I missed it. That menu was nothing but baked starch with deep-fried starch on the side.

       About 15 minutes before the pre-release were called in, Doug made an announcement for one fellow to come to the dining room. That was the man who shies away from the crowd. Doug wanted to let him eat his lunch alone and in peace. Humanity is alive.

       Our teen sisters were there, our 9-year-old, her 1-year-old cousin, and the 6-month old. Doug swears the little ones come to lunch only on Sundays… and well, they're in school, so I think he's being harsh on them. Anyway, I didn't feel like making sure each kid got the same thing today, so I let the three older girls draw numbers, 1, 2, and 3. According to the number they drew, they were allowed to choose from a selection that included a paddle ball, Play-doh, and bubbles. All got gum and Christmas candy canes filled with Hershey's kisses. I had a toy for the 1-year-old, but I skipped over the infant. In fact, all I saw of her was her stroller. Her mother was there, of course, and I watched to see if she would be trying to take food out, but she didn't. She does have a sense of entitlement that precedes her.

       Oh, that tall young Chinese fellow… I've been digging. It's reported that he's from Beijing via New York. It's also said that he came to our shelter from prison, but he is not one of our "pre-release." The report on WHY he was in prison is sketchy, and I came away with the notion that he had moved something illegal from one state to another. His English is so very limited that I must imagine he was used. I took him a can of sardines and a tiny can of anchovies, but today I learned that he doesn't want the anchovies. There was another fellow, however, who snatched them eagerly.

       I did make a special plate for the 1-year-old, with cheese and turkey. Doug was verbally thrashing me for coddling the folks, though he's got a deadpan sense of humor that always catches me off guard, and I know he's got a soft spot for the kids. I pretended to be appalled at his attitude.

       That's about it. I was hanging around after the last diner left and suddenly realized that nothing hurt! This is BIG! I've been seeing a trainer at the gym for 3 weeks, and he's been telling me that we're working to strengthen my body core. Today, I left the shelter pain free for the first time in more than 4 years, so it appears that my trainer is worth his weight in gold—pure, French gold…

NOTHING TO REPORT, SIR

      If ever there were an uneventful Sunday lunch at the shelter, it was today. Doug was slicing raw hams when I arrived. The greasy mess was all over the work table, and he was just going about his work as he always does: first in a frenzy, and then relaxed because it's suddenly all done. He always exclaims about being finished and organized, as if he weren't expecting to arrive at that point.

       For lunch, Doug's order of chicken and egg salads had come in, and I found enough canned goods to make a large pot of soup. "I know I always say this, Miss Joy, but this is the best soup you've ever made," Doug said as he poured himself a second bowl.

       I was a bit surprised to find two expired cans of beans in the mystery box—one died in 2010, and the other last year. The edges of their lids had a bit of rust around them. We didn't use those…

       We had a large pan of fruit to serve with the salads and soup, and every diner got a wee pack of gum. Our pre-release were of good humor, but our homeless were pushing my buttons 10 minutes before the first group had finished. I sent the two troublemakers out to wait for the announcement. Two or three minutes later, they returned saying that lunch had been announced… The pre-release were unruffled and continued to finish their meals, and I sent the scoundrels out again. In due time, Doug called Gatekeeper and asked for the announcement. Kids.

       That young woman who was double dipping last week to take food outside to her boyfriend came to the counter for her plate. "Can I get two bowls of soup?" I'm guessing she saw something in my eyes that spoke to her. "I'll come back after I finish this one," she said. She did come for another bowl later, but she did not leave the dining room.

       Our 14-year-old and her sister 17 are still with us. They are so appreciative of the goodies I give them, and the goodie box had overflowed into two more boxes this week! There were candy canes filled with Hershey's kisses from someone's Christmas stock, and Russell Stover chocolates from the Easter supplies, and heaps of other goodies. I carried away as much as I could, so it will be available to give to them in subsequent weeks. Things that are left there seem to disappear.

       So the soup pot was literally scraped clean, as were the salad containers. I had the pleasure of treating the tall, young Oriental fellow to a can of sardines and another of anchovies. "Twenty. Thank you," he said clearly, giving his bed number.

       The Christians didn't show up before I left, but I greeted them last week, and those 5 huge bags remain unchanging. A homeless woman spent the morning cleaning and doing chores for Doug, and two fellows from that group volunteered to help after lunch. Compared to having nothing but a bed and a sidewalk, mopping looks like fun!

       You know, "nothing" was a really good morning!

MOTHER'S DAY…

      I parked in the back lot, as I have for months now, to climb the metal stairs to the open kitchen door. On the lower landing was a chicken's leg bone. I assumed it had fallen from the trash bag on the way to the dumpster and kicked it aside so no one would trip on it.

       Doug was having a hissy fit over all that needed to be done, so I began by assuring him it would all get done. His nerves are always so near the edge that it's easy to imagine he was a colicky baby. Among his grievances was the fact that people had taken two dozen sack lunches last night without signing for them. I made more.

       Mother's Day always brings out sentimental feelings and kind behaviors in the folks at the shelter. Doug assumes they're recalling better days. Looking forward, I watch our adorable 6-month-old while I listen to Doug's review of her mother. How will this child feel on Mother's Day when she is older? Her mom is somewhat unsavory, and she leaves the baby with anybody who will tend her. At lunch, the baby was with a woman who just got out of jail—a crack head and ex-madam. We know these things because another resident who was also in jail has shared them with us. Before Doug gave me the skinny on that one, I had remarked that she has a very sweet face—a sweet countenance.

       I like to think I'm a good judge of character, but that's being disproved.

       We served fruit, chicken salad, Doug's cream of broccoli soup, chicken nuggets, crackers, and little skewers of cheese cubes and olives that I took from home.

       Among the pre-release we have a fellow who seldom eats in the dining room, but comes there on Sundays. Doug says he's got anxiety issues with being in groups. When the group cleared out, that fellow stayed behind to bend our ears for awhile. He's been in prison 10 years and out 1 month. When I pick apart the many things he said, I feel that he's terrified, but hopeful. He can't believe he lost 10 years. I'm guessing he needs more people on the outside to talk to—all he has now are other prisoners—and the kitchen help.

       Among the homeless is a tall young fellow who slides up to the counter and bellows, "What's going on here?" nodding toward the food.

       "It's lunch," I answer turning away.

       "Well, what is it?" he demands.

       So I give him a verbal menu and turn away again. He takes the food. Then Doug leans in close and says, "I can't stand that guy; he does that at every meal!" Doug's days are fraught with irritation.

       Our Oriental fellow got most of my special ministrations today, as I took a can of sardines just for him. When I mentioned it to Doug, he reached into a cabinet where he squirrels away delicacies and handed me a tiny can of anchovies. Our target was so pleased with his gifts, and his "thank you" was perfect.

       Children: I was told that we had one baby and two teenage girls, but the 1- and 9-year-olds are still there, and I did not take enough goodies for everyone. After some hand wringing, I gave all the big girls two packs of bubble gum and the babies nothing.

       Bitty Baby's mother is also manipulative. After first taking her plate, she returned to the counter and asked Doug for some Saran wrap. We thought the request was unusual, but harmless. The woman then wrapped her plate and took it out front to give to her boy friend! Gatekeeper was livid!

       Returning to the counter, she asked me my name, then told me hers. Later she came again, calling me by name, "Joy?" (It feels out of place… really out of place.)

       She wanted another piece of Saran wrap. I just gave her a blank look. God forbid I should become an accessory to feeding the boy friend. When I wasn't forthcoming, she reached toward the piece of wrap that was hanging from my cheese/olives dish and asked if she could just have that.

       Miss Lillian again did not order what Doug had put on the Wednesday list. Later in the week, one of the budget heads called him in on the carpet for "over spending." She accused him of spending $6,000 in only two weeks! He was quick to point out to her that he had not spent anything…

       The worm is turning, slowly but surely.

       I left knowing that everyone had a full stomach—even someone we had not intended to serve… Squarely centered on the landing at the bottom of the steps was the leg bone, and each end had been gnawed off.

       I returned to the kitchen and fetched Doug. He descended the stairs and perched himself on a stool. Then he flipped a switch to raise the big metal "lift" used for bringing heavy deliveries to porch level. Surely something was under there, and Doug didn't want his feet exposed. We both examined the underneath area long enough to determine that it was nasty and offered numerous places for a nest. Then I headed to my car, and Doug returned to the kitchen, tightly closing the door behind him.

       Like I said, everyone had a full stomach.

WHEN COOK IS HAPPY

    …everybody's happy. This week, Cook is happy! Of course, it's all about the scuttlebutt, and things are changing, so we'll cross our fingers. Again, Miss Lillian did not order the foods on Doug's list on Wednesday, so the cupboard is pretty darned bare! When I asked him about the dearth of food, he said things were looking up because THE director of the shelter is being replaced. Doug met the new director this week and likes him a lot. The new guy says anybody who's not pulling their weight is out. Doug thinks Crusty Old Gal will be the first to go! Furthermore (and here's the best part), the new director thinks the kitchen should have two full-time cooks and none of this part-time/helper nonsense. We agree!

       So I'm excited to see how all of this shakes out.

       Meanwhile, the candies/gum box was filled this week, as was another whole box! I spent about an hour digging through them for things for the children and for tiny packs of gum to hand out with lunches. We have no cookies to pack with the sack lunches, so those packs of gum have been used instead… Rare is the day when we have no cookies, so I wonder if it has something to do with Wednesday's order.

       Guess what??? The 1- and 9-year-olds have left, but we have a new 6-month-old, and she's so cute! I gave her a stuffed infant toy and she hugged it and smiled and kicked her feet, jumping in the arms of the girl who was holding her. What a happy baby!

       The teenagers are still there, as is our Oriental fellow. He can say "twenty," his bed number. He is impeccably neat and clean and polite. He is wretchedly quiet, as there is not a soul for him to talk to. Doug says he's as smart as I imagine him to be, and I look at him and wonder: Wouldn't some benevolent family be blessed to take him in and help him acclimate? Where can I find one of those?

       Doug made his divine potato soup today, and we served chicken salad and fruit with it. The young woman who's been working community service hours for several weeks now was there again today. I was already aware that I don't fit in with younger people (anyone under 50), but she makes it painfully evident with reports of local events she's attending. She's a good worker, though, and takes a lot of the sweat off of me when it's time to sling the hash or make sack lunches.

       As soon as the pre-release were seated and eating, one of them began to banter with Doug, and Doug told me the guy needed putting in his place (all in jest of course). So I got a Snickers bar from that full candy box, held it out of sight, and walked out into the dining room. "Doug says you need to behave," I said, putting the candy by his plate, "and don't let me see you showing out again!"

       Five or six voices rang out, "We need to behave!" as I knew they would, and we did have enough candy bars for everyone. These are the times when I can fully appreciate being the mother in the kitchen, even if I cannot talk about popular events in town.

      Not wanting to bring home 10 pounds of tiny packs of gum, I hid two bags of them in the pantry. One bag is squeezed between two sacks of flour in the back of a box of sacks of flour, and the other bag is at the bottom of a box of tiny packets of salt. Hiding things in that kitchen is difficult, so I'm eager to see if my stealth works. (More importantly, will I remember where I hid them?) Doug said that between last night and this morning, the contents of one of the large candy boxes diminished by 4 or 5 inches…

       It was over when it was over, and my back was done long before it was over. And about my back: I have engaged a fellow at a local gym to teach me to strengthen it. So far, his ministrations have given rise to great pain in much of my body, but it's far too early to complain. If he were not French… but he is… 
       So I believe that one day I will leave the shelter kitchen with a spring in my step that matches the smile on my face.