IT IS WHAT IT IS

     Yesterday was a fairly typical Sunday, under the new circumstances of our group and the shelter's budget. Someone had donated two enormous beef briskets, and Doug cooked them to perfection. I had never seen so much GREASE in my life!
     The "lean" portions were lovely, but I was NOT going to put a slice of brisket on anyone's plate, leaving it capped by a large slab of fat... so ex-gatekeeper and I were very slow filling the dinner plates, as I was stopping to cut off all the fat slabs. It's over. Nothing else mattered at that point.
     Around late morning, I found an interesting bottle of donated salad dressing in the pantry. Assuming "the guys" were in typical guy mode, I shoved it under their noses and waited for chuckles.
     They checked the name of the product, the source, the ingredients. They tasted it and gave it a passing grade. I SO WANTED them to just be boys! They were supposed to howl with laughter and make unseemly remarks. I left the door of opportunity wide open! I don't know when I've been so disappointed.
     Otherwise, it was a fairly typical Sunday.

TWO, TWO... two days in one...

     Friday was uneventful. In fact, I barely remember Friday. I do remember telling Doug that my throat felt scratchy from time to time, and we both agreed it was allergies. We planned to make "the soup" on Sunday.
     Yesterday was spent entirely in my PJs in bed, pampering what is obviously a real, hang-dog cold. When I awoke this morning, I knew in my heart that I would not be going to the shelter, so I texted Doug, "I'm SICK."
     Twenty minutes later, I was dressed and had texted, "I'm coming in!" The gravy for our soup had been in my freezer for 2 weeks, and I had thawed it expressly for today. One cannot renege on the gravy duty. Besides, after making the bed I felt better.
     So we made the soup and some grilled cheese sandwiches to go with. Ex-gatekeeper was there too, and he made some sack meals. Lunch went well. The sun is shining, so the crowd was not overwhelming. Doug's throat is scratchy… and by the time I caved in and crawled home, he was mentally sketching out his next few days, bad days, even worse days, then hopefully better days.
     My son called this afternoon. He has the very same germ. We don't yet know when to expect the better days.
     Wish I could spin a fun tale for you, but it's just not in me today. Keep those hands washed, and whatever you do, don't touch your eyes or nose with your fingers. Apparently, most people do that…