DEFINE YUMMY

     The roads are clear, and the sun is out. It was exciting to be going back to the shelter, and I took the dozen eggs I'd boiled last weekend plus 4 heads of cabbage and a sack of carrots. Doug went to work immediately, chopping the cabbage and carrots and spreading the mix thickly in two aluminum baking pans. He sprinkled on a lot of seasoning and popped both pans into the steamer. That dish will be served for dinner tonight, along with roast beef, scalloped potatoes and rolls.
     Crazy was there. He's still surprisingly jolly. And, BTW, his grandmother fried cabbage. It was said to be "the best." I'll bet she fried it in bacon grease…
     For lunch, Doug had made a huge pot of his famous potato soup to serve with grated cheese and mini-corndogs. Because the pantry had some donated packages of expensive rice crackers, I took blueberry-laced goat cheese, mostly as an experiment. A few of our residents bravely tried it, but the rest withdrew from the word "goat." A class act can be a hard sell.
    During the pre-lunch hour, the laughter in the kitchen was awesome. Doug, Crazy and I were rocking out with country-westerns. Doug likes to play "Who's singing that?" He knows all the artists, I know a few, and Crazy even less. While those events played out, I made 50 PBJs and sacked them with drinks. Then I helped Doug put 25 more in baggies for tomorrow. He was thrilled to see those sandwiches stack up and his afternoon chores diminish.
     While we were singing, Crazy ate several bowls of Doug's potato soup. Then Doug began taste testing it. Then he brought me a spoonful. Soon, we'd all had at least one bowl of it—divinely creamy, thick, filled with diced spuds, peppered just right (I brought home two bowls).
     Crazy filled bowls for the noon lunch group and put them at the serving counter, while Doug deep fried the corn dogs. Hottie strolled into the kitchen several times, perusing the lunch fare. Finally, he stepped very close to me and leaned in secretively, "If one of those bowls of soup disappeared, would you notice?"
     It's so hard to think when little wafts of aftershave are curling around your nose. I wanted a fun comeback, but the teenager in me got tongue tied and was lucky to say, "Me? Um, I'm counting impaired."
     The residents were quiet today. The fancy lady who acts like she works there was front and center wanting favors. She asked Crazy to fetch her gray sack from the refrigerator. Later, she returned it to him. The children have me a bit stymied. Our 9-year-old girl seems slow. There's no bright light in her eyes, though she did announce during lunch that her birthday is this week and she'll be 10. The "boy" is another story. I gave him a pencil eraser shaped like a little elephant. He happily accepted it, but his mother quickly took it saying, "Let me keep it for you." I have a feeling the boy is not sharp enough to deal with a pencil, much less an eraser. He is adept at coming to the counter for seconds and thirds. No problem.
     I so miss those pre-release prisoners and the mix of homeless that included people with stories. This month's motley group is mostly women, mostly quiet, and looking mostly hopeless. I hope that's not their final grade.