PERMUTATIONS

      Doug broke his foot! There's talk of surgery. I know no more except that he's out of commission, and the cooking situation at the shelter is back to pre-Doug status. Dean and I are "it" for Sundays, though today he brought his wife to help. She did a lot of dinner prep, but she's a bit handicapped and is slower than the average bear. For me, the best part of having her there was seeing how much Dean loves her.

       When I crossed the parking lot this morning, some of the guys out front let me know that they were hoping I'd make my soup. It's nice to be appreciated. Lanyard Guy let me in with, "You look nice today!" I've no idea where that came from, but I was feeling a glow and apparently it showed.

       Arriving at the (now never locked) dining room door, I heard raucous laughter inside and stepped in to see 4 or 5 pre-release having coffee. "Y'all need to cheer down!" I said. It's a joke. It's funny. They didn't get it. Every face turned toward me with just a touch of shock or dread, and I realized that I wasn't in the company of free people. "Hey," I covered with a big smile, "I can hear you laughing all the way out in the hall!" That was a long 2 seconds, but it ended well, and they know I'm on their side.

       Dean had some leftover BBQ for sandwiches, coleslaw, potato salad, and baked beans. There was almost enough, but we needed a pot of my soup to stretch those foods far enough. As it turned out, one fellow got only a sack lunch and potato salad, and Lanyard Guy had to settle for potato salad and a sandwich that I made for him. No one complained. Best of all, the food was all eaten, everyone had enough, and they're getting a great dinner tonight, thanks to Dean and his wife.

       Huggy breezed through the kitchen around mid-morning (to our dismay), but he only passed through. I was armed to the teeth to fend off any instructions he might want to dish out. Lucky for him, he just said "hi" and "bye" on his way to church. Stories of holding hands with women residents and having one of them tweak his "cheeks" were spreading through the kitchen. Of course, we all want to know WHY the cameras never pick up on THAT.

       Dean plugged in the CW oldies right after I arrived. He's so dear to actually show me how much he appreciates having me there. Oh, and today, my little girls have a new friend at the shelter, just about their same age. I was able to give each of them Beanies, candy, gum, and bubbles. It's time to get outside and blow some bubbles! Their mom came through the dining room around mid-morning. She thanked me for all the attention I've given her girls and said she hopes they'll be leaving soon. She left with "God bless you!" I know. I know. It's endearing! But she has no clue how much those little girls have given ME. Not a clue. I will miss their giggles and delight awfully, but I will celebrate their having a home of their own. It's okay; we can cry.

       We filled the PBJ bin with 25 sack meals, so Miss Lillian won't have to worry about that tomorrow. As always, I opened a soda for myself and poured some into my ice water around mid-morning. Sometime during the PBJ-sack preparation, my soda disappeared. Obviously Dean packed it in one of those sacks. I got down on the floor and went through about 15 sacks, but to no avail, and my legs wouldn't hold out any longer. Some poor street dweller will open their lunch tomorrow to find a used soda…

       When my little girls came near the kitchen door to put their plates in the trash, I pressed my nose against the door's glass—yes, like a pig. It was a hit. They stepped closer to pig-face me back, and I asked them, "Are you ready for some toys?" Yes, they were. I will miss them so much!

       Dean has this fear that I will leave. He named all the other volunteers who are leaving/have just left, and indicated that he didn't know how the kitchen would get along. Miss Lillian has no one to help her tomorrow. Apparently, a lot of the old volunteers are just worn out, and now Saturdays will find Dean working alone. I feel this need to be there for both of them, but… where the hell are all those folks who wanted MY job when I first started? The place is crying for volunteers—y'all come on down!

MY PEEPS

      When I arrived, a tall, lanky fellow announced to the others in the smoking area, "She's here to cook us some lunch!" Then he opened the door for me. Sweet. Brenda was keeping the gate, and she unlocked the inner sanctum door, but she never looked up. Think pitch-black dyed hair, no makeup, and permanent frown. Happily, Lanyard Guy took the next shift at noon. Always a pleasure.

       Dean and Doug were just as hyper as they could be this morning. They're both strung out over Huggy events of the week. Huggy bossed them around. Huggy refused to give out enough food (and had too much left over). Huggy was braggadocious and even nasty; i.e., "WHY are you taking out more sugar? HERE is where we keep the sugar and there's already a bag open... and NOW you KNOW!"

      The Huggy bashing went on for the entirety of my 2-1/2 hours there. In the end, while I will back up the guys about Huggy's bad habits, poor manners, and feel-copping ways… the man did have more than one heart attack in the past 6 months, and his overall health is very much on the sad side. We could well find him cashing in his chips right there at the shelter at any given time. So I reminded the guys that maybe it would be easier on all of us if we tolerate the old boy with just a touch more grace. Easy for me to say: I haven't seen him in weeks, and they must endure his strange ways daily.

       Well… aside from that and our basic food prep, there is little else to report. I made up 25 PBJ sacks by myself, and I was mixing a huge bowl of coleslaw when the pre-release came to the counter, so I didn't get to speak with any of them. Dean and Doug were at the serving counter, still, when the homeless came for their plates, so I missed them as well. As you know, connecting with my peeps is the best part of my time there. The girls were there, though, and I had a big bag of goodies for them!

       The guys were still harping about Huggy when I left; they knew he was due to arrive at any moment and try to take over their cooking. They are paid employees, you understand, and Hugs is only a volunteer—but he is a formidable personality and he has "seniority." Tough gig.

       I'm tired, and my back hurts, but P.S.: the coleslaw was a big hit—celery seed, a sprinkle of sugar, a dollop of vinegar, and a drizzle of ranch dressing. It sold out.

LOOK WHAT THE BUNNY BROUGHT

      A full parking lot forced me again to park behind the building and climb the stairs to the back kitchen door. I knocked often and hard, and I could hear voices inside, but there was no response. Finally, I called the front desk and Cutie Pie  gatekeeper let me in. I haven't seen him in weeks, so that was a nice surprise. The voices I'd been hearing were pre-release folks having coffee in the dining room. They aren't allowed to enter the kitchen, so all they could do was listen to my knocking.

       Yes, the kitchen was half dark, and Cutie was expecting Dean and our newly hired cook but, there at nearly 10 a.m., neither had appeared. I was preparing to rummage through the big fridge when Dean unlocked the back door and stepped inside. What a relief! He had Miss Lillian's little instruction sheet for the weekend meals, and we started by gathering the things on her list. Dean's undies were in such a knot! Last night he'd made a nice meal for everyone, but when someone asked who had cooked it, Mr. Huggy loudly took all the praise. I don't think Dean is going to let that go anytime soon.

       We were getting our lunch ducks lined up when Doug, the new guy, arrived. Dean met him yesterday and had said he thought I might like him. By the end of lunch today, we were both certain  that we like Doug. He's easy-going, cheerful, knowledgeable about food (we've been needing that), and he has a face with unforgettably character-filled features, as are his charm and good nature. Mr. Huggy has at least three people to avoid in the kitchen now!

       Lunch evolved somewhat from the original plans because the leftover soup had soured and Doug threw out the leftover pizza and fries—Go, Doug! He will not serve gooey, non-nutritious foods, and on top of that he diced onions and bacon to add to our pot of green beans. Unlike Miss Lillian, Doug thinks our people should be spoiled.

       So Lillian isn't leaving for another few months. I was wondering how such a drastic and sudden change could work. Now I know. Dean still wants to have a secondary position in the kitchen, and he's very interested in going for his GED—as a grandfather! I really admire the man, and I promised to help in anyway I can.

       For Easter, I boiled and dyed 5 dozen eggs, for the shelter. I put them in a huge bowl in front of the serving counter, where folks could help themselves. The first pre-release to stick his hand in the bowl took FOUR! Others were taking 2, 3, and 4. I had to speak to them! Still, they persisted in being greedy, and I guess some of the "Sunday" will be missing from my "Sunday Lady" name now (or maybe the "Lady"). Anyway, there were enough to go around to both groups, so all's well.

       Yes, I took Beanies and crayons for the little girls, but they are away for the weekend. Lanyard Guy (who came in around noon) will give them the treasures I left. Dean has taken to expecting a toy for his grandson every Sunday… "Did you remember the toy you promised me last week? — That's why I love you so much!"

       They're all kids—every single one of them—sneaking, grabbing, waiting for toys. Well… it gives me something to do.

       I had fun asking Doug why he wasn't using the electric can opener, as he deftly opened a #10 can with the "good" one. He can't make the electric one work, he says. Neither can Dean, and they both think the newer one is wonderful. I gave Doug its history and its cleaning record. He indicated that he'd be on top of that from now on. Something tells me he will, too.

       Dean and I showed Doug how we serve up 40 meals, filling the plates assembly-line style, and he showed us his great food skills. Doug says he's going to enjoy working with me—we both love to give the people all they want to eat, as does Dean. Of course, if Huggy is in the building (as he was yesterday), he will tell Doug in a New York minute that "NO, the people cannot have bigger portions!" Doug is anxious to show Mr. Huggy that he is the paid cook and Hugs is just a volunteer.

       I am on tenterhooks to see how this all plays out.

       Dean and I made up 25 PBJ sacks and explained why they only get sugar-free drinks. That "rule" has been changed right in front of my face lately. Joey taught it to me; Miss Gloria denied it; Dean brought it back, and now it's been passed down to Doug.

       All in all, it was a very satisfying morning. I would like to be a fly on the wall when Hugs strides in this afternoon to orchestrate the evening meal (which, by the way, is not his job and is already planned and underway). Doug said something about having to put his foot down with Huggy, and I demonstrated the bug-smashing step for him, so he could add some of my wishes to that. Okay, we're not nice. We don't care. It's high time the place returned to some semblance of normalcy!

HELL IN A HAND BASKET

      There was plenty of parking out front, so I entered by way of Gatekeeper's desk today. For those of you who remember Brenda (health food nut/took over my prep table nuisance), she is now the night-shift gatekeeper. One of the residents let me in, and Brenda never looked up. Passing down the long hall toward the dining room, I was shocked at the hoards of rolling dust bunnies. Dean was so obviously not having time to be a full-time custodian and a half-time cook.

       He was rushing through some dinner prep when I arrived. In fact, he rushed through everything. Several times, he left me alone to mind the deep fryer, and I noticed when I left that the floors had been swept. Poor man.

       We were going to serve onion rings and corn dogs, but the fryer stopped working every time we dropped a basket of (frozen) corn dogs. Apparently, those need to be thawed before deep frying. We did cook onion rings, and Dean found some fresh chicken salad, so lunch was good.

       The little girls were in attendance, and were again surprised with their Beanies and candies. I marvel at how well adjusted they are. Their mom is quiet and kind, but I can see the weary on her face.

       We've an older man among our homeless—white hair, suspenders, a painful gait—where does he go from here?

       When Brenda's shift ended, last week's new fellow took over—Lanyard Guy. He came to the kitchen and we exchanged pleasantries. Seems like a hard job, but those who assume it appear to ride easy, even if they don't last long in the saddle.

       As the second group cleared out, Lanyard Guy came to ask us if we could feed one more. "There's a man out there who says he hasn't eaten all day."

       Dean said to just send the man back to the dining room. I was looking for some poor, ragged street dweller, and was surprised when a very young man strode in with a large backpack.

       "I'm on spring break," he said. "My parents threw me out."

       So that wrapped up lunch. Dean and I used the very last two clean aprons. The kitchen floor hasn't been swept in awhile. I did clean the awfully nasty wonderful can opener. It had never been cleaned…

       The scuttlebutt is no longer so vague. Miss Lillian has turned in her resignation. No one has been found to replace her, but one person has applied. Dean gave up his second job to fill in when Joey left, and now he won't be able to get that back. He would like to have a place in the kitchen, but they told him he'd need a diploma… The shelter offered to help him get one, but the person in charge of prisoners said they still would not allow him to work in the kitchen. We've no idea why or how he is "allowed" to do that now. Mr. Huggy is not a paid employee, but he is working often in the kitchen, in spite of his nasty personal habits.

       I stood at the hand-washing sink this morning, looking out the little window into a cold rain. Joey was like a pin that held up a bridge; the whole thing has crumbled. I can't see past the rain.

HEALED BY MEDICAL SCIENCE— WORKING BY THE GRACE OF GOD

      I was sick, I tell ya! Two weeks of pillow fluffing and chicken soup. Boy was it good to get back in the shelter-kitchen saddle today!

       Spring is toying with us! The windows are open. The parking lot and the shelter are full. I was sure these circumstances were paired with bone-chilling weather. Not.

       Dean had the back door open, and I found him lying on the floor, trying to crank up the deep fryer. Miss Lillian had ordered pizza and onion rings for lunch, but the fryer refused to budge. A phone call soon enlightened Dean: the fryer had been "turned off" in such a way as to keep it off until some special person did some special thing to it. Doesn't matter.

       He looked at me. "What can we make to go with this pizza?"

       I found some fries in the freezer, but they too required deep-frying. I'm sure you know my ultimate solution… and the brew was good, if I say so myself.

       We had a dozen or more cold plates of beans and cabbage with cornbread and macaroni 'n cheese, and Mr. Huggy had left instructions to serve out a half gallon of beets. We were going to throw those out and keep it a secret, but I decided to put the beets on the serving counter in little bowls, just in case someone had a taste for them. They did.

       There's a new gatekeeper, and he seems capable, but he's just learning the ropes. I was shocked to learn that Dean has not yet figured out who eats first (and what), after his many weeks in this service. So I told him, "The pre-release eat first and best." Now he knows. I can't imagine the stink that would have ensued if he had served the homeless residents first!

       The new gatekeeper didn't know the drill either, but he's a nice guy, and I guess I'll see more of him. It felt quite odd having two middle-aged men looking to The Sunday Lady for guidance.

       Dean had the best time feeding people today! He even took food into the dining room and served extras—Lillian would have had a stroke! He complained often and bitterly that Mr. Huggy is stingy with food and gives child-size portions. Of course, I don't witness those meals, but Dean says the people are really disappointed and unhappy when they leave the dining room after a Huggy meal. While Miss Lillian is still chief chef, these guys taking up the Joey slack aren't yet cutting muster—Huggy because he's stingy, and Dean because he's cowed. He loves it when I am there and we find ways to give the folks all the food they want, without cutting into Lillian's meal plans. Maybe some of my attitude will rub off on Dean. I hope so.

       We had two little girls today, about 9 and 10. I gave them each a Beanie bear and a candy bar. You should have been there! Those kids and their mother are some of the most appreciative that I've seen. It's a joy to give them things. They reveled in their new "babies," and very soon had those babies swaddled in little blankets and were skipping through the lunchroom in animated play. Dean watched them with a big smile on his face.

       And there was this fellow in that homeless group who saw me with the bears. "How cute!" he said. "I want one…"

       So, I got him a beautiful red-breasted robin from the toy bag, but he wanted a bear. "I don't have anymore bears today," I said.

       "What have you got?" he asked.

       "I have a rat…"

       "Oh! I'd love that!" he said. And he did. Then he slid it stealthily into his pocket, lest there be a run on the "me too" thing. He's got a child in mind for the rat—a little boy, I think. Dean had seen the bird and decided it would be perfect for his grandson. Everybody's happy.

       Well, this appears to be the new routine—the new staff. Joey won't be back, and he did nothing to precipitate his requested departure. It's just one of those very sad things that comes from places of authority and cannot be changed. Of course, he's still my buddy and I'll keep you posted on his GED progress.

NEW ROUTINES

       The parking lot was full this morning. I can only guess that the cars belong to the residents and possibly two workers. I wondered if it had anything to with the sub-freezing temperature. At any rate, I had to park behind the building and go in the back door—the door that I'm always so hesitant to answer. Dean let me in.

       Given time, everything changes. On Thursday, I was well. On Friday, I had some sinus issues. Yesterday, I stayed in bed with a sore throat. This morning, I felt much better, but I have a really snotty nose. Looks like an ordinary cold. So I sallied forth to the shelter, knowing I'd be wearing gloves all morning.

       Dean was glad to see me. He explained today's plan of attack and that he needed to finish some custodial duties while I held down the kitchen fort. Really, there was very little holding down to do. Several stacks of leftovers were on the stove and work table. One group of plates held hot dogs, coleslaw, and baked beans. The other stack, however, held only thick (mostly bread) pizza and fries.  Here, have some starch for lunch… 

       Dean gave me a pan of cold meatloaf which I put in the oven. He found three bags of coleslaw for me to dress, and I found some applesauce. There was chili warming on the stove and we had a small bowl of chopped onion.

       Mr. Huggy was in charge of Miss Lillian's prewritten dinner plan, and Dean was to get that ball rolling while the Hugs was at church. The list was chicken, peas, and broccoli/cheese. I asked if those were "green" peas? Dean thought they were.

       "Surely," I said, "he means some sort of brown or dried peas! Nobody wants two green vegetables at once!" (Not that such a menu would harm any of those nutrition-deprived shelter residents.) As I scanned the pantry, I saw several #10 cans of black-eyed peas. They're simmering now. Dean washed the chicken wings and put them in the cooler to await Mr. Huggy's administration.

       As the pre-release came through, I offered them their choice. I won't repeat the menu, but clearly, giving them so many choices makes a big difference in attitude. They really enjoyed lunch! The next group did too. Even Dean and I enjoyed it. We got to give people what they wanted and all they wanted. That's a first. Our gatekeeper was the lady I like so much; I left toys with her for the children.

        Dean thanked me for coming in, but I am The Sunday Lady; what else can I do? Miss Lillian never did do Sundays except in an emergency. Mr. Huggy has church bus duty, and I don't see any hope for turning back this clock.

       I didn't hang around after 12:30; changing gloves every time I needed to blow my nose was challenge enough. At the moment, things are going downhill again, but it's just that time of day.

       Went. Saw. Served.

NOT SO HOT

       Maybe it's just me, but that shelter has little life in it today. Cutie gatekeeper from months back is in the gate saddle again. We enjoyed our hellos. Beyond there was a long empty hall, an empty dining room, and a cold kitchen. At least the lights were on. And truthfully, Dean was on my heels, ready to bring me up to date with lunch plans and instructions. Miss Lillian did not come in. She's on a mission. If you don't ask, I won't tell.
       There were nearly 20 cold plates of leftover pizza and fries to serve out. Lillian did call to give me complete instructions, which I greatly appreciated. Those plates were to be served, as were plates of donated "lasagna," some wilted, darkened salads, and hard round rolls. The "lasagna" was thick with tomato paste (I mean just buried deep in the stuff), there was no visible cheese, no layers... just enormous penne pasta smothered in yucky. No telling who dubbed that stuff lasagna, but it was free.
       Dean had a pre-cooked ham in the oven for tonight's dinner, and we put four #10 cans of green beans on to simmer. He and I fully covered the issue of whether or not to pour off the water from the canned beans. While some folks who work in that kitchen "rinse" canned vegetables and cook them in "fresh" water, Dean and I concur: the water in the can is sterile, and it's full of vitamins and flavor.
       I made up a few dozen PBJs, but there was little else to do with food prep. Dean's abilities are being put into play four ways to sundown; he's ragged from being stretched too far, and I was happy to take up a pail of bleach water, wipe down the dining room tables and chairs, and fill the napkin and dinnerware containers.
       In time, we got that CW music station cranked up, and we left the back door open for most of the morning. Those upbeat things seemed out of place, but we surely needed them!
       Both of our lunch groups were on the quiet side. We apologized to them for the fare, but our hands were tied. In 3 years, I think I've come to know these people (as a people), and it's just not customary for them to be that accepting of such foul grub. They know we're having it rough, and they're taking it on the chin with us.
       None of the five children who lives there now was at lunch—thank God. I did leave toys for all of them with Gatekeeper. He's such a cutie (have I mentioned that?). He took the toys gleefully and said, "What? Nothing for me?"
       There are no plans for next week. There were no plans for this week. God willing, I will be there next week, and I will do what I can with what we have.