Doug was in his place this
morning. He and my favorite
gatekeeper were in the kitchen, and Doug was running a bunch of hams through
the slicer that Dean pronounced "broken" last week. Not broken. Dean
even said that Doug had never used it and wouldn't know how to fix it… yada
yada yada… but none of that was true. Last week was just sour.
THIS week was sweet! Doug began by
ragging on me, "Miss Joy, I'm not helping you one bit. You're on your own;
I have these hams to slice."
Some of that was true, but it
was nothing like last week. Doug had
chicken salad in the fridge and plenty of fruit cocktail. The only thing I
needed to invent was a third dish. Pickin's were slim. I decided on a huge pot
of curly egg noodles and set one on to boil with a large chunk of butter in it.
I put a lid on the pot to encourage boiling. Then I began to forage for the
herbs. I wanted parsley and basil.
Doug told me that we were
going to have a fire drill, so again it was nice to be prepared for that. Then
that little wispy blonde who's working off service hours came to make the PBJ
sacks—poor little airhead. So there we were, all of us well occupied. The hams
were sliced and Doug was putting out drinks and tidying the dining room. I
still had my head in the spice cabinet, searching for the basil when Doug
shouted, "Miss Joy! FIRE!"
You know, those huge pots of
buttery water will boil over if you
put a lid on them… and the buttery water will
cause the gas stove's flame to rise quite high. It was as high as a small bonfire.
Doug turned off the burner and
the flames subsided, but by then the fire alarm was blaring. We weren't sure if
my fire had set off the alarm or if
Gatekeeper had set it off, as it was
time for that. Sadly, it was my fire. Happily, Gatekeeper had already alerted
the fire department to ignore our alarm—or was that almost tragic?
Airhead hadn't experienced one
of our drills, so she got her purse and stood on the back porch. All I got was
my sunglasses. Then we told Airhead to follow us across the street. Slowly, so
slowly, the pre-release and resident homeless men emerged from the downstairs,
and after quite a long while, a few women and children appeared in the parking
lot out front. The groups didn't amount to much, and I'm betting a lot of folks
just didn't come out. They are a
motley crew—some in flannel pajama bottoms, one combing her hair, some rubbing
their eyes from being awakened at 11:00. And I searched especially for
Bad-Ass-Tats. I never saw him in the group on the sidewalk.
When it was over, everyone
returned to the shelter, and at 11:30 we began serving the pre-release. Bad-Ass
was one of the first, and today he thinks he's hotter 'n a firecracker. He was
flirty and talkative and had nothing bad to say about the food. Then I saw our other "Indian" come in, and I
watched—oh, so intensely. The other fellow is much younger than Bad-Ass and a
whole lot better looking. They greeted each other with laughter and some body
nudges, like bumping shoulders. I was mesmerized. Then Bad-Ass began bragging
(not to me, but to anyone and everyone) that he was the "Big Chief" and the other one was the
"Little Chief." Their age difference alone verified that stance, no
power play intended.
I couldn't wait to get Doug alone and ask him about
the Indian relationship. "Oh!" he said, "They're best
friends!" Now isn't that just precious?
Very late, a mother with two
little ones, a boy and girl about 4 and 5, came to lunch. The chicken salad was
all gone, but I fixed them up with BBQ sandwiches, pasta and fruit. Everyone
got little candies today because the goodie bins are full again! And the
little ones got a stuffed toy and bubbles and gum. They were so thrilled. The
4-year-old boy took the gum (not yet knowing that bubbles were in the offing)
and said, "Thank you!" That
was a first. I've had a very few children say thank you, but this child
couldn't get it out fast enough or sincerely enough. Four years old. I told him
Doug could refill the bubbles when they run out, but I surely hope they don't
run out on a Miss Lillian day…
I just love it when I can
smile all the way home.
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