NINE DEGREES?

       Do we need a protractor or compass to figure this out? No. We need a thermometer, and we need only to set it outside—that is what we awoke to this morning—that and no power.
       I must tell someone why we had no power. Be a pal and listen. There is a high-brow condo complex across the road from where I live. The grounds that border the road have a 35-yr-old row of pines that are gnarled with vines and brush. In my town, LAND belongs to the owners all the way to the pavement of every road. There are no rights-of-way. So when a landowner is negligent, there is no recourse. Case in point: Last night, a fierce wind blew over yet another tree from the fancy property. The tree fell in the road, taking a power line with it. The power company (and more than three police cars came to remedy the situation (with taxpayer dollars), and the negligent property owners are scott free, as usual.
       So I put on thermals, top and bottom, heated my car for 20 minutes, and scurried out early to the shelter kitchen where I knew it would be warm. BOY, was it warm in there! Mr. A. and Helpful Guy were making sack lunches and cleaning. Soon, Doug came in and gave us the weather report—wind chill "minus 20." I knew it was cold!
       Doug had been up all night with a sick child, and by the end of the shift, he too was not well. I just hope he didn't share that bug. He did whip up a fine meal for the residents: scrambled eggs, biscuits, applesauce, and sausage gravy. He gave me permission to make "just one pan" of corned beef hash with poached eggs. That didn't take long, and I spent more than an hour making sack lunches with Mr. A. We made about 50… enough to last 2 days.
       Serving was the most tedious event I've attended at the shelter. The biscuits had to stay in the warming oven; the sausage gravy had to stay in the pot on the stove; and plates could not be made up ahead of time because… some people don't want gravy on their biscuits, and some don't want eggs… the permutations went on forever. On top of that, I was told to give small portions of the eggs.
       The pre-release group was small—maybe 8 people. We have a new gal among them. Doug says she's a kleptomaniac and not to leave anything of value (especially credit cards) where she could get it. I said, "Doug, that's not a kleptomaniac, that's a thief!"
       "Yeah," he said, "and she spent 15 years in prison for it!"
       The resident homeless group was also smaller than any of us expected. I don't know where they went in such bitter cold. However… the "little girl" who is sometimes said to be 14 and whose mother says she's 11, and who is listed on the roster as 12 came to lunch! I grabbed the most delicious stuffed bear in my bag and a big "car cup" of gum and presented them to her excitedly. The child was ecstatic! While she ate, the bear sat by her plate, and the gum was nestled between its arms. Good times.
       I was there more than 3 hours, and SO glad to get out! It was hot, we had too much "help," and tensions run high when Helper Guy is around. He often appears to be jesting, but there's an undertone that makes me awfully uneasy. Doug is going to tell him to find someplace else to go on Sundays; he, too, feels the aggravation.
       Thanks for listening. You faithful readers surely save me a lot of money on therapy!