One of those hours was spent wiping peanut butter off of the inside and the outside of an enormous plastic bag. It's a thick bakery-size bag of peanut butter. The peanut butter is in the bottom of the bag, and it's easy to scoop out a few cups for PBJs. The bag had remained pristine for weeks, as we dug out the goo for our sandwiches then twisted and folded it over. The bag was in a nice cardboard box.
Today, I found the box simply nasty with peanut butter oil and the bag was slathered inside and out from the base mound of product to the top. Someone had taken out large servings and simply smashed the bag down into itself… difficult to describe…nearly impossible to undo!!! I mean @$#%^&!!
For lunch we were going to serve ham, but someone stole two big hams from the refrigerator last night, so Easter Sunday lunch was donated foods. Fortunately, there was a mass of fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, long tender green beans and a large pan of cobbler. There were pans of food to throw away… The cooler also held many pans of other donated foods from high-dollar restaurants, but those just don't seem to get served very often.
Understand that Doug has been on vacation all week, and Buddy has been working as gatekeeper and cook. This is not good! It's not safe!
Someone had put a huge baking sheet in the warming oven with a large piece of plastic-covered paper which had melted and was stuck on the sheet. I spent at least 30 minutes soaking and picking at that.
Buddy had prepared the 12 breakfast sacks, but there were only 6 lunch sacks, so I made another 15. Bread is running very low, and what we had was dry. Buddy says it's okay because Doug is coming back on Tuesday. "Yes, but he shouldn't come back to find that we're out of bread!" Buddy's not worried…
My dyed eggs didn't go over as well as they used to, and while the stuffed bunnies were eagerly accepted, they didn't inspire the free-for-all of times past. Lunch was only about 20 souls and no children (thank goodness). Oh... my daughter came to help, and help she did! She served those donated lunches and tried to check off the names of the diners. When Fancy Lady came to the counter, Daughter asked, "What's your bed number?" Fancy Lady said nothing. Daughter asked again. Fancy lady had no answer. Daughter tried again. Fancy Lady said, "I'm Susan. I'm in transitional housing."
That information didn't help Daughter at all, so I took the pen and marked Fancy Lady as having come to lunch. BOY, does she think she's fancy!
Autistic boy was not there… but his mom was, and she was so quiet. She also appeared exhausted. Of course, if I had to deal with that boy every day, I'd be exhausted too.
Only one of the guys from the hotel across the street came for a lunch. He was surprised to see our kitchen in such a disorganized state, but he enjoyed his plate of food.
For dinner, Buddy dropped some chicken and fish fillets in the deep fryer; Daughter prepared and steamed donated cabbages, we heated biscuits, and the mac 'n cheese from lunch will be served again. So that's it. I've eagerly anticipated this day for months… but that's it. Life is like that.
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