SOUP & THINGS

      Doug had all the stove burners in use when I arrived. He begged my forgiveness and said he was hurrying to get his dinner dishes prepped, so he could give me "my" stove. That called for an uh-oh.

       When I was able to get to the stove, Doug handed me a large pot filled with macaroni, macaroni with ground beef/tomato something, and a bit of corn. Miss Lillian had left it last Wednesday with instructions to feed it out "as soup" on Sunday. Sigh!

       I don't kow-tow to Lillian's directions anymore, but the food smelled healthy, and it was a good base—for something…

       After scooping off about 3 pints of the macaroni, I put the rest on the stove and added two cans of spaghetti sauce and a #10 can of Veg-all. The mix was thick and stiff. I asked for bullion (of any sort), and Doug directed me to a box of wee packets of "tomato-chicken" bouillon. I cut open a half dozen of those and added them to the mix, along with a cup of water for each packet. I mean… it was SOUP! Who knew?

       Doug ate two bowls of the stuff—but I never tasted it…

       In another pot, Doug made his famous broccoli soup (made with the potato buds base) topped with grated cheese.

       On the side we served crackers, applesauce, and one chocolate candy per plate. It was not the hearty, filling lunch that we usually have, but it was quite good, and we had enough to offer seconds and thirds. Plus, we had 15 plates of fried chicken from yesterday. There was food aplenty.

       Last week, I telephoned the new head honcho (still sight unseen) and introduced myself. I had two requests for him: 1) Now that Mr. Huggy's new duties come between him and fetching snacks from the food bank, would he (the new master) please call the food bank and tell them that I am approved to get those provisions? And 2) if I could find a playing piano for our dining room, would he allow one to be brought in?

       This new director of more than a month now had no idea about the piano. "What piano?"

       "The one in the dining room," I told him. "The peddle is missing and many of the notes just don't play. I asked about replacing it last year, but I was told, 'That piano is not to be touched! It's for church!' And, frankly, I can't see how it could be for anything since it doesn't play."

       Still, Mr. Big had never laid eyes on the instrument, and he declared that he'd have to look into it—maybe somebody's dearly departed grandmother donated it and it's sacred… he suggested. He said he'd get back to me. I never expect him to.

       So today, Doug says the goodies box got filled on Thursday! (It did). Also, he said that Mr. and Mrs. Director came to the dining room and took turns trying to play the piano. They declared that it doesn't play. Maybe now he really will get back to me… Doesn't this just take you back to the days when we needed a can opener?

       Both the pre-release and the homeless groups were unusually upbeat and ate very well. Only one child came—the 14-year-old—but she brightened my day with her cheer. Bad-Ass had a 4-hour pass, and to tell you the truth, I was disappointed that I didn't get to see him. When all was said and done, that Muddy Waters fellow came thru the kitchen with a sack of trash, and I was compelled to ask him, "You put any words down?"

       "Yeah! I done laid 'em down," he answered proudly.

       "Good man!"

       "Yes, ma'am!"