BASTILLE DAY!

     Daniel emailed first thing this morning to remind me that it's Bastille Day! I wasted no time hanging a reminder for the whole neighborhood.

It's Bastille Day!

     All was well in the shelter kitchen. Kevin's "apartment" in the center of stacks and stacks of drink cartons was hidden from public view but overflowing with his belongings. Kevin wasn't around, and the stairs were clear.
     Doug was proud to tell me about the meals he had planned for today. His sole focus was on using what we had, which has not been the norm lately, and donations have made it nearly impossible to plan a balanced meal. Today, the donations fed the residents two nutritious meals for the price of styrofoam plates and plastic wrap.
     We made 12 breakfast sacks, 50 PBJ sandwiches, and 25 PBJ sacks.
     The walk-in fridge held a large tray of sausage patties and applewood bacon which I had seen  on Friday, and there have been dozens of eggs in there for weeks—so for lunch Doug opened a can of sausage gravy and heated some very old but edible biscuits, and voilà! For dinner he used some donated ground beef to create a pan of spaghetti sauce. Being without spaghetti, he cooked a pot of curly noodles. Then he warmed a pot of mixed vegetables and a pan of donated bread sticks. Those looked good! We made up 35 plates.
     Serving lunch and plating dinner were easy tasks, and I found myself puttering. The pantry was in need of organization. Kevin turned up after lunch and strewed his latest collections all over the back stairs. Then he went around to the front of the building where he and another fellow had an argument… Kevin's cast has been removed, and his previously broken arm is now a bit swollen and covered in red marks. I gave him some antibiotic ointment for the marks. Then I filled a baggie with ice that I crushed with a can of tomato sauce. The can didn't fare very well. 

Kevin struggles with his ice pack.

     Odd soul that he is, he vacillated between brushing off my ministrations and letting me comfort his boo-boo. He also spent a couple of hours cleaning up the mess he'd made on the stairs and putting cardboard in the cardboard dumpster, all the while talking to someone we could not see. His body is stooped and twisted today, so I assume he is "medicated" to a fare-thee-well.
     For my efforts, I was rewarded with a bag of stones, each one carefully described, and I was assured that the little flat round one was no doubt a very old coin "from that castle."
     Then Doug took Kevin a lunch plate, and he too was paid with "coins."

Not exactly valuable but SO collectible.

     Yesterday the young man from Friday was there, finishing his community service. Doug had a long, LONG talk with him. That beautiful, healthy, educated young man has needle marks all over his arms. His community service was punishment for having been caught "in possession." It hasn't been 2 weeks since Doug buried a loved one like that… so his speech to the young man was as passionate and fresh as one can be. I just don't get the feeling that it made any difference.
     There's a new child living at the shelter with his mother, a boy about 11 but large enough to be two boys about 11. He was pleased with his full-fat lunch of sausages, bacon, biscuits, eggs and gravy, so I thought he'd be extra pleased with crayons or colored pencils. "Would you like some?"
     "I need jelly!" he demanded.
     I gathered some large recyclables to bring home, did some sweeping, bleached surfaces, refilled the coffee filters and organized a box of breakfast bars. Sounds silly, but those bars were scattered all over the pantry, making it difficult to find a few dozen of them when making breakfast sacks. Mission accomplished; another four hours in Paradise.