PATIENCE AND HENS' TEETH

       I was told to "take it easy" for a few weeks, and that's all well and good for other people, but I have things to do, places to go, people to see… Medical types just don't understand who they're dealing with. "My way" was working fairly well until this Friday… Having missed a whole Sunday at the shelter, I was certain that I'd be able to spend half an hour there this week—at the very least! Too, I was way overdue with my toy shopping. So I set out to dig through the toys in the baby crib at the local thrift shop—no bending allowed. I took my kitchen tongs for deep treasures and plundered to my heart's content.
       No, that wasn't enough, and I found myself raiding another shop later in the day. I ran a couple of business errands and ended the afternoon playing with my new toys. All were disinfected, cleaned and made spotless. Today they are crowded together on the kitchen table, waiting to belong to the perfect child.
       Meanwhile, I packed four bags of carefully selected treasures for the boys and girl at the shelter. Oh, what fun to see their faces on Sunday!!!
       Around 6:30 on Friday night, I wobbled up to bed. When I awoke for the day on Saturday, it was 11:50! Somebody had played a little too hard…
       Today, my daughter and her roommate took the bags of goodies to the shelter and went to serve in my stead again. This is hard to accept. I am not patient. I do not want to "take it easy" for weeks. @#%$;*!@!€

       The little boy and toddler brother are gone—left this morning—no other information. Kinda worrisome.
       The other two kids "really enjoyed their gifts."
       Doug and Mr. A. gave the girls a hard time about being late, when they arrived at 10… his typical teasing. Mr. A. likes to call my daughter "Joy Jr." All of the guys spent a lot of energy accusing my kid of being like me… right down to the looks she gave them.
       Roommate had fun too.
       For lunch they had breakfast—biscuits, bacon and eggs.
       Doug asked the girls to throw out some old foods, so they threw shots into the dumpster—like mother/like daughter.
       A good morning was had by all—really sorry I missed it, and especially sorry to have missed the boy—I had the coolest rubber snake for him…
       The remaining boy got a pup, a book, and some other toys. The little girl got a wee bear with a tiny t-shirt. I figured her other bears needed a baby. There was a book for her too, and some other small things. I'll miss shopping for the toddler, but I so hope he and his brother have gone someplace more homey and permanent.

REPAIRS TAKE TIME

       …and patience. The medical system discharged me with, "No driving for 2 to 3 weeks. No bending, no stooping, no twisting, no reaching, and buy a grabber!"
       Buy a grabber? What? While I'm not driving or reaching? Buy a grabber?
       Fine! These long toes and flexible legs will come in handy.
       Kids come in handy too! Mine took her roommate and today's stash of toys and zipped off to the shelter to save my place. The toys were carefully selected, labeled and bagged last week.
       Naturally, only I see the shelter as I do. The report I got was okay, but it wasn't mine. The little girl is said to have "squealed and squealed" over her bag of goodies. It's hard to imagine a stuffed toy, a notebook, and a pen eliciting such glee, but that's the report I got. Yes, I sent her the softest little pink and white pup in my collection. I really, really need to go shopping!
       The boys each received a stuffed black bear, a notebook and a pen.

       The baby got a Fisher Price monkey that makes cute noises when its head is turned. I hope Baby makes everyone crazy with monkey noises :)

       Mr. A. reported that one of the boys put extra effort into returning to the counter to say thanks. I know which one…
       Doug served pizza and fries again. These are not the olden times when Miss Joy contributed to the design of the shelter nutrition. It's pretty bad when you miss yourself!

JOYEUX ANNIVERSAIRE!

… or as the whole kitchen gang said in English on my arrival, "Happy Birthday, Miss Joy!"
       Now how did they know? Hmm.
       Doug planned pizza, fries and fruit for lunch. He and Mr. A. were in charge of baking the frozen pizzas, we shared dropping the fries close to serving time, and the fruit was just a matter of opening a #10 can. Otherwise, there was still much to do. We had to make 50 PBJs and pack them into 25 sacks with drinks, chips & cookies. We had a dozen breakfast bags to assemble, and there was not one lunch sack in the refrigerator. So there was plenty to do.
       To my dismay, Crazy was the first one to greet me, and he stayed right there in that tiny kitchen far too long, I thought; but, he finally made his way to a table in the dining room where he read the paper and checked off names as our diners came to lunch.
       Doug's been sick, and he worked toward lunch prep, but I often saw him straining to stay afloat, struggling with pain, and figuratively wiping his brow. Poor baby.
       Mr. A. was the strongest among us and pulled the most weight.
       Then… around 10:30 I saw a very familiar car pull into the back lot, next to mine. It was my daughter's. "Hey, Mr. A.!" I called, "come look at this!" Mr. A. did not rush to the window, but did say, "Oh, I've known about that for days."
       My daughter and her roommate were getting out of the car with their arms loaded with cupcakes and a huge shopping bag! I'd been caught off guard again! If you hate surprises as much as I do, don't tell my daughter. THIS surprise, however, was by far her very best! She had brought three dozen cupcakes and as many adorable little gift boxes for the shelter residents. Each little box was lined with a bright paper, some rainbow-colored gum, a little glow stick or bracelet, and a handwritten note saying, "Never lose your glow."
       She's her mother's daughter.
       The girls wanted to stay and serve lunch, so they dashed out for breakfast and came back in time to serve, beginning with the pre-release. I find it amusing to watch my daughter greet those burley prisoners with, "Hey, Sweetie! Would you like a cupcake?" Truth be told, she taught me how to smile and greet all of "those people," because in the beginning I was lost as to how to greet them or even how to give them eye contact. Experience is a good thing.

     When the resident homeless came in, of course I was on tenterhooks to give "my children" their goodies, but only the girl and one boy came for lunch. The other two boys were out on pass, but will be back later today, so I left their goodies with Mr. A.

       The little girl was the first to arrive, and my daughter handed her a cupcake, then the little gift box. "I get TWO, Mommy!" she cried. "I get TWO!"
       "No," I said, "you get three," handing her the bag of goodies I'd prepared: a yoyo, a book, some PlayDoh, some bubbles, and a very soft little teddy bear.
       "Mommy!" she cried, "I get three!"
       My daughter and her roommate were taking it in. The joy in watching a child's delight does not exist in the rest of nature.
       Later, the girl came to the counter to explain that this little teddy bear was the softest thing she'd ever touched to her face. "I named her Fuzzy because she's so soft. She and Princess are going to be best friends!" (You may remember Princess from last week.)
       Now the little boy was another story. When he came to the counter, all I wanted to know was whether or not he'd received a yoyo on a previous Sunday, because I wanted each boy to have one and I knew I'd gifted one a few weeks ago. So I asked him, "Did you get a yoyo?"
       "I just got here," he said innocently.
       "I know, Sweetie, but did you get a yoyo before?"
       "No. I just now got here," he repeated.
       "So I've never given you a yoyo?" I tried again. And, no, I hadn't. So he got the sack with the yoyo. The other boy will get a Frisbee when he comes in later. All's well. Baby's sack contains a Snuggles (fabric softener bear hand puppet), a book of baby's first words, and a Fisher Price Poppity Pop Dump Truck. I am fresh out of little trucks; it's time to go shopping!

      Next week was going to be the start of vacation, but the healthcare system thought that having some repairs made would be in my best interest, so I'll probably be convalescing on Sunday. Vacation was rescheduled. Daughter plans to serve lunch in my stead, so the children needn't miss their goodies.
       Oh, and Mr. A. says our little girl loves to "play" the piano. It really is time for me to bug the head honcho again; a piano needs keys that play—and a peddle.
       

Have You EVER?

      I was tipped off yesterday that there are now three 8-year-olds and the 2-year-old at the shelter. I hate it that children must live in a shelter, but I love it when I have opportunities to brighten their days there. So I packed four bags for the kids, carefully selecting items that would not be repeats from last week. And thanks to my neighbor, I have a stash of school supplies, so the older kids got a good start on those.

       When they came to lunch, I gave each child his or her bag. If only you could have seen the glee in their eyes, the open smiles of surprise, the little leaps of joy. If only you could have heard the high-pitched "What'd you get? What'd you get!" And the lunch half hour stretched far longer as the children plundered through their goodies. The boy who got the Beanie snake must have come to the counter 5 or 6 times with, "How'd you know reptiles are my favorite?" Then, "He already likes me, see?" brandishing the snake curled around his wrist. And "His name is Hissy, you know!"

       That was irresistible. "He could have a real hissy fit, couldn't he?" Laughter continued.

       The little girl brought her purple Beanie bear to the counter to tell me that one of the other residents has begun calling her Princess, and that her Beanie's name is also Princess. It is—right there on the tag.

       The boy with the snake came several other times to say, "I just want to thank you again." We're talking about 8-year-olds—8-years-olds who are living with hard times but who apparently have so much support that they don't know they have hard times. It's a beautiful thing to see.

       I've saved the sweetest for last. The 2-year-old sat in his highchair rolling his Fisher Price Bug back and forth across the tray until its wings lit up. I thought he might be too old for it, but he's just right. He also got some big crayons for little fingers and a fuzzy lion to sleep with. Pardon me for saying it, but i had the best time ever!

       As for the food, we served that nasty chicken salad (after I rinsed it in a sieve and doctored it), home fries, fruit, cucumber salad that Mr. A. made, and chocolate cake. Too, in the pantry was enough candy to choke an elephant, so I put several pieces on every plate.

       Our C&W music was spot-on all morning, and Crazy didn't show up today (always a pleasure). Another pleasure was meeting our newest gatekeeper, a young man fresh from college.

       All-in-all, the lunch event was a happy time for many of us, and I found it hard to leave, even after 3 hours.

THE MORE THINGS CHANGE…

       I did take a friend with me, Sunday before last, and we enjoyed our endeavors at the shelter kitchen. The others there enjoyed meeting my friend too. After our kitchen duties, we continued the week with many adventures that lead to enough fatigue to keep me home last Sunday. Even shelter kitchen volunteers can have a life, from time to time.
       Today, truly, nothing has changed at the shelter. Mr. A. was hard at it, putting together tonight's dinner; Doug was organizing boxes of foods, and Crazy was busying himself well out of my way. As for me, I began by sacking a few hundred sticky donuts, then I served hot dogs and fries to the pre-release. I put some chocolate candies on the side.
       The resident homeless got the same meal, and the food ran out with exacting precision—like the biblical loaves and fishes. When I called yesterday, I received word that there were no children at the shelter, but that was wrong! There are three children there! Two fathers are living there with their 8-year-old boys, and one also has a 2-year-old boy. Fathers! This is rare.
       Though I'd been told there were no children, I never trust that report, and I always take something for children. Happily, today my bag contained a funky Beanie ostrich which the toddler loved, a box of colored pencils, and a yoyo. Everyone was happy. Next week, if they are still there, I'll certainly do better by them. Shame on the people who don't give me correct information, even tho they have it!
       Doug is leaving his resume here and there; Mr. A. was depressed, saying things have irrevocably changed for him; Miss Lillian is being less responsible about her assigned workdays; I suppose more change is in the wind. Perhaps now is a good time to nag the head honcho again about that raggedy piano in the dining room.