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!