SAD DAY IN MUDVILLE

       Mr. A., Doug and I were the whole crew today except for an hour that BOB spent with us. We had about 8 pre-release and about 20 resident homeless, so that made for an easy morning. On my way to the shelter, I zipped through the window at McDonald's and bought a ham biscuit, because I'd slept too late to eat at home. This McDonald's keeps open a "pay" window and a "pick-up" window. I'm not used to that. I paid and drove away. On arriving at the shelter, of course, I realized I didn't have any breakfast. Mr. A. gave me a freshly fried, chicken breast. Worked like a charm :)
       For lunch, we were serving the new nasty chicken salad—two whole tubs of it. Now that I know what to do with it, I rinsed both tubs of salad in a sieve until the water ran clear. Then I added a large chopped onion. Mr. A. wouldn't let me chop the onion because he said I would cry like last time, and he didn't want to see that…
       From the spice cabinet I ferreted out a bottle of parmesan/feta cheese blend, celery seeds, garlic powder, black pepper, and season-all for salt. We had no mayo, so I used ranch dressing and sour cream (we had a whole case of newly expired sour cream…). In the end, the salad was a hit. BOB's tester fork dipped into the bowl several times. On the side we had chips, crackers and little candy bars.

       The guys made barbecued chicken breasts, rice, and sundry green vegetables for dinner.
       Doug scrubbed out the drink container they fill with sodas and ice in the afternoons and evenings. Generally, he places it adjacent a floor drain and pulls the plug there. Not today. "Doug," I asked, "why is the container peeing on the floor and not in a drain?"
      He was nonplussed, "It'll get there," he said of the water and the drain. Sure enough, a little broom work, and the water was all gone.

        My 12-year-old was there today, but her first greeting was, "This is my last Sunday." She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, then closed them. I gave her a plastic box with a handle, once filled with sidewalk chalk, now filled with all sorts of goodies. At least she'll have a few distractions—wherever Mom drags her. Mom is at the very top of the staff's sh-- list for having told the child, "I wish I'd kept your sister, and not you!"
       One sentence has brought a shelter full of people mighty low. I was SO ready to bring the child home and start that long, wrenching journey through the teens years all over again. I did leave an email address for the child, in case she finds herself abandoned… God forbid.

ANOTHER "HOLIDAY" MEAL

       Just Doug, Mr. A. and I were there this morning, and with what little we had to do, we actually got in one another's way at times.
       To celebrate this holiday weekend, Doug had 100 greasy hotdogs boiling, that many buns, a huge pot of thick chili (I could NOT smell that stuff—it looked like chili, but if it had any flavor I'll never know). I was assigned to chop two large onions, and before it was over I'd shed a lot of tears. We served prefab potato salad on the side, giving it out generously as this was its expiration date. Some of the buns had already expired by virtue of having molded. Those were tossed, of course.
       Mr. A. spent literally hours bagging gooey doughnuts. I didn't help him for very long, as the sticky, sugary, frostings and chocolate kept gumming up my gloves. I don't know how Mr. A. tolerated the task, but he seemed to enjoy it. There were hundreds of doughnuts (and doughnut holes) to bag for sack lunches. Too, they'll be served out at snack times.
       We had no children today, and if there was an interesting resident, I don't recall them.
       The high point of the morning for me was discovering Doug and Mr. A. on the floor of the dishwashing side of the kitchen. Doug was excitedly retrieving a BOX from far underneath a counter. It had been shoved well out of sight by you-know-who. This was so enlightening! So here's the skinny:
       Miss Lillian doesn't like to bag sticky doughnuts for sack lunches. She prefers to drop Twinkies in the bags—no muss, no fuss. Doug had not seen any Twinkies (or cookies) all week—until today. OUT he crawled from under that counter, just bursting with delight, and with Lillian's huge stash of Twinkies! I was instructed to SERVE every one of those Twinkies for lunch. Any leftovers would be handed out for afternoon snacks. Oh, they are an interesting bunch!
       That was every bit as good as fireworks.
       

WHOLE LOT OF NOTHIN'

      Doug, Mr. A, and I were the whole crew there today. To top that off, we had a smaller crowd to feed than usual, and Doug had planned a meal that was practically effortless. I offered to go home, but he insisted that he needed me.

       We made up some sack lunches and some PBJ sacks. We put a bowl of fruit cocktail in the fridge to cool. When lunchtime approached, Doug threw come chicken patties and homefries in the deep fryer. We had some nice warm buns for the patties. Lunch was as "no brainer" as they come.

       I'd love to have some interesting tales about our residents, but there was none. The new baby's mom was readmitted last week, but soon left again and on her own. The t'ween wasn't there, and I surely missed her, as I had a whole box of special things for her.

       Crying Lady is back from hospital, having survived her heart attack. She was complaining of a hangover this morning. To tell you the truth, I think I understand where she's coming from.

       If you remember her, "Crusty Old Broad" who is a head gatekeeper/social worker was narced out for relieving us of our candy delivery. All I found were a few chocolate eggs—but enough for everyone to have one when added to the bag I saved last week. Where does a fat lady get off taking all the candies, and why did she leave all the dark-chocolate Hershey candy bars? If it were me, I'd take those first!

      So it was a quiet, almost boring day at the shelter, and that was a good thing for the residents. More outstanding were the folks plying the streets nearby. In winter, I see only bundled men heavily laden with their earthly goods, but now that spring is here, those fellows are sharing the sidewalks with tourists who also have backpacks and sometimes walking sticks. Were it not for financial privilege, we couldn't tell the difference.

JUST ANOTHER SUNDAY FOR MOST

       What would we do without change? Mr. A. didn't come today because he had some paying work elsewhere. Helpful came, and I'm sure Doug asked him to because, as he told me, he had "no help." Because I'm there only about 3 hours, I can see why Doug would want help for the whole day. Still, Helpful did a lot of nothing while I was there, and he was polite. As Doug said, when I was leaving, "At least Motor Mouth behaved himself today."

       I found 3 sacks of Hershey's kisses in the candy bin. I served out two of them and brought the other one home for safeguarding. Doug said he'd stash away any other such candies, should they come in.

       As for lunch, it appeared that they didn't need me at all. Doug said we were having "the new nasty chicken salad," fruit cocktail, potato soup, and pizza for lunch. For dinner, he made huge pans of chicken wings—some hot, some BBQ—we're talking TWO bottles of hot sauce!

       He told Helpful to make the potato soup, and some potatoes had already been cut up and boiled. Helpful has never cooked anything there, so it was interesting to observe his efforts. Doug helped him put a large pot of water on to boil. Lighting the burner was the first part of the lesson. Then he told Helpful to put some salt and pepper in the water. Helpful opened the lid to the pepper can on the "pour" side, and poured it in. The water was black! Then Helpful disappeared.

       Doug remarked that it was interesting how people just disappear in the middle of a job. Eventually, Doug added his own ingredients to the black water, even though I begged him to pour off at least half of that water and replace it. Not happening.

       Naturally, Doug finished the soup, and to my utter amazement, it was THE most delicious potato soup he's ever made!

       One of our newborns, his siblings, and his mother were thrown out this week. Mom was caught stealing. I don't think a little bit of money will get them very far, and the child is only a month into the business of life.

       My little girl got a teddy bear and some gummies. Her face just lights up SO, as if she didn't have another stuffed animal to her name! What a joy she is. I hope she and her mom get a place of their own soon; no tweenager needs to be living in a shelter.

       Today, it seemed that an unusually large amount of handsome fellows among our group are missing teeth. They look so cleaned-up, intelligent and competent—until they smile.

       About Death-In-A-Tub: It really is gone forever. The burpy stuff seems to be the only choice for pre-fab chicken salad. While it has 5 fewer grams of fat, the savings is lost on the palate. Just for kicks, I suggested to Doug that I might be able to rework the burpy stuff. I poured the whole tub of it into a sieve and ran cold water over it until the water ran clear. Then I put the mixture in a large bowl and added one chopped onion, mayonnaise, about 1/2 cup grated parmesan, garlic powder, black pepper, and two small cans of chicken. Doug and I both thought it was greatly improved. It wasn't "Death," but it was palatable.

       BOB arrived around mid-morning, so we had plenty of hands. Toward the end of the last group's mealtime, Doug noticed a young man eating in the dining room and said, "He's not supposed to be in here!" Then he grabbed the phone and called Gatekeeper, "What's HE doing in here?" Then the young man headed for the door, but Doug sent Helpful to bring him back, "Five!" they shouted. They call him Five (I don't know why).

       Five came toward the counter. "He looks hungry," I said to Doug.

       "Son," Doug said, "Eat some food," and he handed him a large plateful. THAT is the Doug I love so much. His convincing harsh head-master attitude is pure genius, but the real Doug is a pushover. The only times I've seen that fellow truly angry were when street folks had defecated behind the dumpsters, and then I'd bet he's more angry at their circumstances than their desperation.

       Happy Mother's Day!

WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?

       It's an absolutely gorgeous day, and the shelter residents are taking advantage of it. We didn't have a huge crowd at lunch. We served pizza and fries, with chocolate candies on the side. It was killer. Tonight they'll get fried chicken, cabbage and scalloped potatoes.
       About mid-morning, Doug told Mr. A. and me that Gatekeeper had called to say she thinks our wheelchair resident has MRSA (staph infection)—highly contagious and sometimes deadly. She reportedly has "sores" on her body. I think this diagnosis came from another resident. RUMOR in that place is alive and well. Shortly after lunch, we observed the wheelchair zooming down the street behind the shelter. She had better places to be.
       My back hurts. It's come down to getting to know a surgeon a lot better than I'd like. Meanwhile, I deal with it, and around 11, Doug gave me a serious look and said, "What's wrong with you?" So I told him my back hurt and, yes, I had taken a pain pill.
      "Take another half of one," he advised. So I did. About half an hour later, Miss Joy was much happier, but still in pain. We do what we can with what we have.
       In late morning  the Christians brought their tons of loaves. I haven't seen them in months, but they've been there. One of their cohorts was coming on Tuesdays with a load of doughnuts, but Miss Lillian was not nice to her! She'd take the doughnuts only because to refuse them might cut off all contributions from that source, but she'd snap at the doughnut lady, "We don't need those things!"
       So I learned today that the doughnut lady brings her goodies in large aluminum baking pans. All she asks of Miss Lillian is that the pans be returned the following week, so they can be used again. Now hear this: Lillian was giving the lady dirty burned pans. The lady told Doug that if Lillian did that again, she'd yank her off the back porch and set her straight. Then she decided to just bring the doughnuts on a day when Miss Lillian isn't there.
       Today was the day. I was busy making PBJs when Doug dashed past me with a handful of clean pans, heading toward the back door. The exchange was about to take place. Being the prankster he is, Doug stopped at my table and smeared some peanut butter on two of the pans. Then I heard him tell the lady, "These are clean. All you need to do is rub a little soap on there."
       It was a fine joke for both of them, and I'm sorry I didn't get in on it earlier.
       We had no children with us today, and the diners were fairly quiet. That pretty lady I gave the bunnies to at Easter had a heart attack last week, and she's in hospital now. These things give one pause, and I'm getting a lot more pause lately than I'd like.
       Have a wonderful week, NO pause, and no pain.