THISTLES & THRILLS

       Doug was working on dinner prep when I arrived: peas & carrots, sweet potato casserole, rolls & meatloaf with gravy. It took him about 30 minutes to have all of that food in the ovens and the steamer. Dinner was ready by the time lunch was.

       Lunch was again an unknown. He was cleaning out the freezer and giving thought to both meals. Finally, he said lunch would be chicken nuggets, okra & egg rolls—all deep-fried. Of course I suggested soup—something needed to be greaseless… didn't it? He said if I could find anything to make soup with, I was welcome to try, and he said we'd need a big pot of it because it was chilly this morning (can you believe it???) and most of the folks were in-house.

       On my knees, several times, I dug through the mystery box. It hadn't changed much from last week, but there were two tiny cans of chicken. There were also many cans of beans (red beans, black beans, soft red beans, light red beans, almost-black beans…). I took all of those and three large cans of spaghetti sauce for my starter. I added freshly chopped onion and celery, and lots of water. I thought it would never come to a boil. Meanwhile, I found three cans of chicken and rice soup (the source of the chicken broth I wanted). I strained the solid contents out of the cans and added the broth to my soup. The rice and chicken were set aside. Then I boiled a pot of elbow macaroni. When the basic soup finally boiled, I added the macaroni and its water as well as the rice. Then I turned off the heat. The taste tests went well.

       [Unless something miraculous happens with the mystery box, next week's soup would need to be made from canned salmon, condensed milk, sauerkraut, and pork 'n beans. I'll need a recipe for that, so feel free to contribute yours.]

       Just as Doug was dropping his first basket of nuggets, Gatekeeper called to say we were having a fire drill in 5 minutes. I loved being on the inside of that surprise! (New tidbit I learned: any homeless resident caught in the building during a fire drill is put out.)

       When the horrible racket was set off, Doug and I exited the back door, down the steps and across the street to the sidewalk where I saw a beautiful purple thistle blooming and thriving among the shrubs. The pre-release were close behind us as they emerged from the basement like ants. One man in particular drew my attention. He's what the locals refer to as "an Indian," meaning Native American. There are many and varying tribes, and this man has made the name of his tribe well known. That's because we have another "Indian" at the shelter from a different tribe, and they are known to be enemies, according to Doug.

       The homeless shuffled out the front door and into the parking lot, one with a walker. Gatekeeper and Doug had a clipboard for making the head count. I noticed they were "still waiting" for one fellow,  but he finally crawled out, rubbing his sleepy eyes. When all were accounted for, it was over.

       But here's the deal: the new guy caught my eye because he is literally covered in tattoos. His skin is quite dark, so the tats blend in well, but he is covered, from his neck to his feet. There are faces of several beautiful woman on one arm, and I did wonder what roles they'd played in his life. So later, when Doug brought him to my attention, I was familiar with the man of whom he spoke. "He's been in prison 35 years," Doug said. "He broke his shackles and has attacked four guards. He is volatile and will 'go off' easily, so we are especially concerned about our other Indian."

       Just as Doug finished enlightening me, Bad-Ass Tats came to the counter to ask a question. Lunch was way over and I heard Doug say something about "no food." Scared me speechless. I happened to have a plate of food in my hand, and as the guy left and Doug spoke to me, I lost my grip, and the food went flying. Doug doubled over laughing! As it turned out, the man was wanting to take food out of the dining room, and Doug was just giving him the low-down on the rules. Still… send prayers.

       Everyone ate well today. Even those of us in the kitchen did some serious nibbling. When the last group had thinned out, BOB arrived to help during the afternoon. He'll be making sack lunches. He, too, was hungry. And the Christians brought their bread donation, but I was too busy to get to speak with them.

       Our young police-department volunteer begins her experience with that next week. I told her I'm expecting a full report.

       So Sunday lunch at the shelter today was mostly normal (even counting the fire drill), except for Doug's Indian report. That was a doozy.