It's a HOMELESS Shelter

     The back porch lift was so crowded with drink crates that I assumed Kevin was elsewhere this morning. No, he was curled up in a space about 4 feet square, sleeping like a baby. On mentioning it to Doug, I got an earful of information that will last me awhile.
     Yesterday, Doug came to work to find that the contents of our dumpster were on the ground, and he had to shovel them back into the container. That job is nasty beyond belief. It's hard to understand why the COOK must do that job. They didn't get trash pick-up on the 4th, so now the bin is completely full, and there are 3 more days until pick-up.
     Then Doug hauled Kevin in on the carpet and asked him who had made all the mess. Kevin pled ignorance. Today, when Kevin awoke, Doug instructed him to clean up his present mess. Period. I watched them come to an agreement. Kevin was in another world; I've never seen him that stoned before. Doug asked repeatedly, "What have you been doing? What did you take?" But Kevin didn't have an answer. Kevin did understand the instructions, and he cleaned his area before leaving for the day.
     

The father figure in Doug was front and center.
"Kevin! Look at me, Kevin! What did you do?"

When he's full of drugs, his legs absolutely give the impression
 of multiple sclerosis, but when he's sober…

     Doug and I filled 12 breakfast sacks with bagels, and that was that. The lunches and PBJs had all been done, and dinner was in the oven. We plated the baked chicken quarters, green beans and sweet potatoes before lunch! Today's hot lunch would be deep fried, taking all of 10 minutes to prepare. Doug was so pleased with himself! "Look, Miss Joy! I can leave early today! Can you believe this?"
     Gossip. We had a lot of that! One of our residents has been given the position of gatekeeper. Another resident became hostile with Gatekeeper earlier in the week. Gatekeeper is still sore from the altercation, but the resident chose to have himself committed—a process that entailed a lot of threats and four policemen.
     While my Ph.D. friend repaired the kitchen sink on Friday for about $8 and a decade of higher education, the shelter's hired plumber repaired the water fountain in the foyer, at a cost of more than $400. Doug says the fountain is only precariously attached to the wall and one leaning drunk could easily pull it down again.
     All three kids from the hotel came at lunchtime. Only one still works at the hotel, and one  still wears his ankle monitor. It was good to see them. While they were chatting with Doug, I answered a knock at the back door—me—by myself. You never know who is there, and I've always shied away from opening that door to strangers, but I am changing. An older gentleman stood there humbly asking if Doug was around. I told him yes and I asked him if I could help him. Would he like some food or something to drink? Yes, he needed a sack lunch, so I gave him one, just as I've learned from Doug.
     Many of our most interesting characters were at lunch in the dining room. The tiny old lady with missing teeth always approaches the counter with an unusual smile. Today, I figured out why it's so interesting: She smiles as if she and I have a secret.
     The other toothless gal wore her teeth to lunch and proudly smiled for me saying, "See? I wore my smile today!" Her hair was fixed nicely, and she didn't have her freshly off of drugs look. Her autistic son was in full bloom with a new haircut.
     My little boy and his dad made a Sunday appearance for the first time in weeks. I gave him bubbles and gum—and all the extra fries he wanted. That is the sweetest child!
     Doug gave me an earful about the kitchen's neglect during his absence last week. He had written his food and supplies order, but an office worker decided to "improve" it. No. Now the dishwasher area is stacked high with boxes of things we cannot use and have no place to store. The napkins are too large for the napkin holders, and the health department WILL give a low grade for not having napkins in the holders, plus, people will steal napkins that are in open piles. This is not a "simple little shelter kitchen." We may serve only fries and corn dogs for lunch, but much more than meets the eye goes into doing that.
     The walk-in freezer is stacked to its ceiling with donated pans of food from restaurants. The institution will not turn away donations, so now the freezer doesn't have adequate airflow and again the health department won't like that. I didn't look in the walk-in refrigerator, but I believe Doug said he threw away those five 5-gallon containers of expired black beans. Boy, was he mad about those!
     He was also angry that I was asked to come in and cook last week. They told him they want me to come tomorrow too, but I assured him I would not. That place is much like a stray cat: Feed it, and it comes back for more. Not to worry; I'll be back.