To say I'm still puny from last week's virus is… well, it's embarrassing. Apparently, "mature" people don't rally as quickly from surgeries and sickness as less mature people... pzzzt.
Daughter and Roomie went to the shelter again today. I had given them my orange goody bag and two toys that I deemed to be of equal value, for the boy and girl at the shelter. But the morning was hectic, and the toy distribution didn't go as I had planned. The boy got the big green dragon, and the girl was given a tiny stuffed dog and a toddler-level coloring book. While Daughter and Roomie thought those were appropriate gifts of equal value, I've been informed that I have spoiled those kids. They had rushed to the counter before the other diners, excitedly asking for their "prizes." The boy stood there firmly until his was produced. The girl, on seeing her tiny dog and coloring book, was distraught. She didn't like those things!
I think this is proof of a missing grandmother figure. I'm sorry; I truly am.
Doug went home from hospital, then returned to hospital. I don't know what the trouble is, but it's obviously serious.
Mr. A. is carrying a huge load and threatening to quit. To be honest, he was only a steady volunteer the last time I was there. If he's been officially hired for pay, I don't know about it. Today's lunch was pizza and fries. That pizza comes frozen, it's square, and the bread is thick. What little is on top of the crust is barely detectable—something reddish like tomato paste, and something white like shredded cheese. It looks like regular pizza topping, but one bite proves it to be fake. So when the shelter serves pizza and fries, it's just flavored carbs and carbs and grease.
The girls were frustrated by the lack of coordination, but one man is just one man. They dove in to make a stash of sack lunches and serve the residents, but it was not the jolly place of recent weeks, before Doug and Miss Joy went missing.
I will do my best to provide reports in the following weeks, but my vacation is supposed to begin now, and I don't have a crystal ball.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Monday, September 21, 2015
IT's NOT LOOKING SO GOOD
This song and dance are getting very old… but while I am not convalescing so much now, I did pick up a virus this week—so I and my sore throat stayed home from the shelter yesterday and went to the doctor today. Meds are being applied.
However, there IS a report from the shelter kitchen. While daughter slept off her jet lag, her roommate trooped into town, loaded with two sacks of toys for the girl and boy. She was greeted by a harried Mr. A. and a community service "volunteer"—working off a DUI. Gatekeeper was checking out the dinner menu, and Mr. A. was rushing to make hotdogs for lunch. Because I have been absent for so long, I have missed the news of Doug's illness. He's been hospitalized for nearly 2 weeks, but plans are afoot for a procedure to improve his condition. He's a super-great fellow, very talented, funny and bright. The shelter misses him.
Now we all have a better understanding of Mr. A's rush and the pressure that's on the modest crew left to serve three meals a day.
The pre-release came in 10 minutes early—with no apologies. One of the women became annoying, making demands, and Mr. A. had to give her a piece of his mind. Wish I'd been there.
Both the girl and the boy came to lunch, and Roommate very much enjoyed giving them their goodies. As always, our girl squealed repeatedly over the soft bunny I'd sent—named him "Fuzzy Fuzzy." Apparently, a slight modification of the name will suffice as the characters become somewhat redundant. She just doesn't mind. The boy loved his goodies too. All's well.
Roommate was impressed with Mr. A's peach cobbler-making skills and personal recipe. After lunch, she made breakfast sacks, and DUI Girl made PBJs. So the pace was fast today. The dinner menu was impressive, but the lunch fare was much more simple than would have been tolerated in bygone days. Things change. All we can do is try to catch a few cow chips as they fall.
However, there IS a report from the shelter kitchen. While daughter slept off her jet lag, her roommate trooped into town, loaded with two sacks of toys for the girl and boy. She was greeted by a harried Mr. A. and a community service "volunteer"—working off a DUI. Gatekeeper was checking out the dinner menu, and Mr. A. was rushing to make hotdogs for lunch. Because I have been absent for so long, I have missed the news of Doug's illness. He's been hospitalized for nearly 2 weeks, but plans are afoot for a procedure to improve his condition. He's a super-great fellow, very talented, funny and bright. The shelter misses him.
Now we all have a better understanding of Mr. A's rush and the pressure that's on the modest crew left to serve three meals a day.
The pre-release came in 10 minutes early—with no apologies. One of the women became annoying, making demands, and Mr. A. had to give her a piece of his mind. Wish I'd been there.
Both the girl and the boy came to lunch, and Roommate very much enjoyed giving them their goodies. As always, our girl squealed repeatedly over the soft bunny I'd sent—named him "Fuzzy Fuzzy." Apparently, a slight modification of the name will suffice as the characters become somewhat redundant. She just doesn't mind. The boy loved his goodies too. All's well.
Roommate was impressed with Mr. A's peach cobbler-making skills and personal recipe. After lunch, she made breakfast sacks, and DUI Girl made PBJs. So the pace was fast today. The dinner menu was impressive, but the lunch fare was much more simple than would have been tolerated in bygone days. Things change. All we can do is try to catch a few cow chips as they fall.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
STILL NOT READY
SO not ready that I just stayed home. I did send the toys for the boy and girl with my daughter's roommate. SHE has taken such a liking to the shelter that she went without me or my daughter (who is out of town). I'm thinking the kitchen has a new Sunday lady.
The report from Roomie was that few came to lunch today and "it was slow." Slow days are okay! I'm thinking the fresh fall air has drawn folks out to other pastures, and they need to get away.
I totally expect to have a personal, front-and-center report for you next week. Please forgive my infirmities.
The report from Roomie was that few came to lunch today and "it was slow." Slow days are okay! I'm thinking the fresh fall air has drawn folks out to other pastures, and they need to get away.
I totally expect to have a personal, front-and-center report for you next week. Please forgive my infirmities.
Sunday, September 6, 2015
I'M NOT READY!
Hoping to put in 30 minutes in my favorite place this morning, I went gaily to the shelter where I found Doug, Mr. A., my daughter and her roommate laughing and happily preparing lunch, dinner, sack lunches, and sack breakfasts. They were busy!
They had made tuna salad and fries for lunch. On the side were crackers. It wasn't very enticing, but no one complained. Well I remember the days when bad-ass prisoners (and even homeless folks) would complain bitterly about such a meal. Apparently, those days are over.
I put some chocolates on each plate—guilty that I could not do more.
Those foods had been arranged at the serving counter, so I could easily put a scoop of tuna salad and a handful of fries on each plate. It was far too obvious (and I love them for it) that this arrangement had been prepared especially for me…because they know how much I love to serve the people. No one else in that kitchen approached the serving counter during lunch. It felt like I was being hugged—silently.
Of the two 8-year-olds who remain at the shelter, only the little girl was at lunch. She seemed happy to see me, and obviously happy to have new toys. She made a great display of posing her new bunny and loving on it. There is never a need to wonder if she likes her gifts.
There were many funny moments between the guys and the gals working in the kitchen—far too many to note here. It's all about a camaraderie that is special only to that place. My 30 minutes became 60… and then 90. And then I limped to my car, smiling. It was too long for this convalescent person, but I don't think it did me any harm.
Mr. A. will give the boy his toys at dinner tonight—a super-fabulous stuffed dragon, a little kaleidoscope, and some school supplies.
Next week… oh, maybe 90 minutes won't feel like anything but a good time!
They had made tuna salad and fries for lunch. On the side were crackers. It wasn't very enticing, but no one complained. Well I remember the days when bad-ass prisoners (and even homeless folks) would complain bitterly about such a meal. Apparently, those days are over.
I put some chocolates on each plate—guilty that I could not do more.
Those foods had been arranged at the serving counter, so I could easily put a scoop of tuna salad and a handful of fries on each plate. It was far too obvious (and I love them for it) that this arrangement had been prepared especially for me…because they know how much I love to serve the people. No one else in that kitchen approached the serving counter during lunch. It felt like I was being hugged—silently.
Of the two 8-year-olds who remain at the shelter, only the little girl was at lunch. She seemed happy to see me, and obviously happy to have new toys. She made a great display of posing her new bunny and loving on it. There is never a need to wonder if she likes her gifts.
There were many funny moments between the guys and the gals working in the kitchen—far too many to note here. It's all about a camaraderie that is special only to that place. My 30 minutes became 60… and then 90. And then I limped to my car, smiling. It was too long for this convalescent person, but I don't think it did me any harm.
Mr. A. will give the boy his toys at dinner tonight—a super-fabulous stuffed dragon, a little kaleidoscope, and some school supplies.
Next week… oh, maybe 90 minutes won't feel like anything but a good time!
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