WHO'S THERE?

      The first thing I knew about today's experience at the shelter was that Doug wasn't there—mine was the only car in the back lot. Mr. A. was just opening the back door to take out some trash as I topped the steps. He was so cheerful! Helpful Guy was in there too… He had cleaned the dining room and eventually washed some dishes and made coffee. Boy, did I keep an eagle eye on him today! I left my purse in the car and kept my keys in my pocket. At one point, Helpful went into our pantry and just stood there, gazing at the shelf where I've always kept my purse…

       I gave Mr. A. another big stuffed bear, and we left it in plain sight, to see if it would disappear like the last one. Things always disappear at the same time as Helpful, though, and he was there when I left—so I won't know the bear story until next week.

       Doug was missing in action; i.e., "he'll be here in a little while." I was there 2-1/2 hours, and Doug never came, so whatever he was doing was known only to him and Mr. A. He wasn't on the job.

       Mr. A. was plowing through the making of two meals. He put those cardboard pizzas in the oven for lunch, but he sprinkled sausage, bacon and extra cheese on them, and I was impressed. He made French fries to go with the pizzas, and I opened two #10 cans of fruit. Lunch.

       For dinner, Mr. A. deep-fried chicken breasts. When the warming oven was full of those, he whipped up a huge pot of mashed potatoes. Then he began to sauté fresh baby asparagus. Honey! That stuff was awesome. Some dear soul donated a whole case of it, and Mr. A. was aiming to prepare it all (or I would have borrowed one of those little bundles…).

       Our little girl was there, and she chose a delightful stuffed seal to go with her "car cup" of gum and her St. Patrick's Day Beanie Baby. I know; I spoil her. And about the child: Helpful was complaining bitterly that the child's mother lets her sit smack in front of the big television, and the child "wears glasses!" So he thought the mother was not parenting properly. If I had to guess, I'd bet the child is doing whatever she can to "escape" this place that she must call "home."

       Mr. A. and I put together nearly 50 sack lunches before serving time, and overall I stayed too busy to do a lot of bonding with the residents. It did seem as if we had an unusual number of grumpy folks, though; especially the very pregnant one.

       Rumor has it that the shelter might sell their property and buy elsewhere, creating separate housing for pre-release and homeless. Mr. A. is hoping for an opportunity to become the paid cook at the homeless unit. Of course, rumor is just that.