HEAT AND HYDRATION

     Doug was in his element today. By 10 a.m., he'd finished the lunch sacks, the breakfast sacks, and most of the PBJs. He had started our planned pot of soup, and he had dinner in the oven. That boy was so proud of himself—and he'd not come in until 8:30!
     He was also proud to show me a slew of CDs he'd found in his old truck, and one of them was playing. Last week, he asked me to bring some Randy Travis music, so I burned all 42 of the songs I had, and Doug had a Randy Travis fest well into the afternoon, shifting from yee-haw to tears and sometimes having to forego a tune completely for its emotional draw.
     Anyway, the joint was jumpin', as they say.
     I took the leftover shelter foods I've been saving in my freezer and added them to the soup pot. Then we put in two cans of diced tomatoes and one of corn. The result was more like a stew, but we served many second helpings. Doug made plain cheese sandwiches to go with the soup, and we put little bags of chips on the side.
     The residents were extra cheerful today, except for Fancy Lady. She slid her hand under the serving glass to get "just the soup," and didn't speak to us until she was leaving. Oh! And earlier this week, she mentioned to Doug, "I'd like some eggs. Y'all have a lot of eggs in the refrigerator. Why don't you serve some?" The real question is: How does she know we have a lot of eggs?
     The new gatekeeper is still cheerful, and I hope he doesn't burn out soon.
     Kevin's "apartment" held piles of his belongings, but we didn't see Kevin until well after lunch when he came pounding on the back door. I gave him a cup of ice and a couple of drinks. Then Doug went out and gave him instructions to clean up his pigsty. Kevin asked for a broom and some hot water with bleach. His legs are twisted in knots today, but he energetically scrubbed those stairs saying, "It smells good, doesn't it, Miss Lady?" ...yes, but that won't wipe away the thoughts Doug and I have about bedbugs and body lice. It's not that Kevin seems dirty, but we know his fabric belongings have questionable origins, and his sleeping quarters… well.
     Another knock at the back door came from a woman who wanted two drinks and a cup of ice. She was laden with sundry garments and belongings, and Doug says she's pregnant but won't give up her drugs for a bed at the shelter. Sigh.
     For dinner, we plated chicken Parmesan (curly noodles topped with chicken and sauce) with carrots and a roll. I refilled the utensil dispensers, Doug mopped the dining room, I hit a lick of Chop Sticks on the piano and left smiling.
     Approaching my car, I saw a woman sitting in the shade on the sidewalk. All of her earthly belongings were in a baby stroller. She was smoking a cigarette, and she had a metal serving tray in hand. As I pulled out of the parking lot, she held that tray up to her face. God forbid I should recognize her? Too many far-out souls; too little time.