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.