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.

FRIDAYS CAN BE FUN

     Kevin was snoozing away when I arrived shortly after 10:00. Around noon, he made an appearance at the back door to ask for drink and ice. Doug provided. As much as Doug cares for poor Kevin, he is facing a hard issue: Kevin's friends are beginning to bed down on the back porch with him. This is not a sustainable situation for the shelter—after all, Kevin doesn't even live there.

Looking back, I marvel that he lived through the winter,
and only his demise would save him from another.

     Doug had a family emergency this morning, so I busied myself alone for an hour or more making breakfast, lunch and PBJ sacks. I had no idea how heavy a box of bread can be: If you fill a banana box with loaves of bread and place it on a top shelf, it's heavy!
     Only five or six folks came for a sack lunch at noon. Doug took care of them. We have a new fellow who is fresh from prison, and one of our former pre-release is returning to the shelter soon. We favor them, you know.
     For dinner, Doug made cornbread, fried okra, fried catfish and haricot vert fin. We were disappointed to find that the green beans had come from a scorched pot. I haven't seen my beloved beans since last I was in France, and I was so excited… until I tasted them; but, they were free.
     Well after the lunch hour, there came a loud knock at the dining room door. Doug was ready to dish out some scorn to the dimwit who dared come so late to lunch. He alerted me to his forthcoming rage… then opened the door only to find our wee toothless old one. Boy, was he glad he'd held his tongue. Soon, he was just as sorry that he'd allowed a conversation to be started. Tedious place, that.
     We spent a lovely afternoon mulling over political events and plating dinner. I'll admit, I had a ton of fun just being there. See you on Sunday, God willing.
   

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.

THE UNFORESEEN

     Arriving shortly after 10, I found Kevin very busy tossing trash into the dumpster, and he had strewn mounds of treasures and trash on the back stairs, so I had to pick my way from step to step, but I got in. Doug had already ordered Kevin to clean up the stairs.
     There was a college-educated, tall, handsome young man mopping the dining room—doing community service for a faux pas.
     Dinner was in the oven, and there were donated deli sandwiches for lunch. The PBJs were in the fridge, waiting to be bagged. I was just about to begin that process when Doug's mom called. She was sick and needed to be taken to hospital. Naturally, Doug left, and life at the shelter went on without a hitch, but only because two of us were there who are not regulars.
     Tall Handsome and I sacked the PBJs, then we made up meat sandwiches for 15 sack lunches. One of the office ladies came to help us set out the lunch fare and plate the dinners. By 1:00, everything was done! Even Kevin's quarters were neat and tidy.
     When Doug finally called, he reported that Mom had a mild heart attack and pheumonia—it could have been worse. I'm not going in tomorrow, and I well imagine that Doug will be with his family, so the kitchen is on its own—not even office workers will be there.
     See you on Sunday, unless the unforeseen is seen again.

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.

NOT JUST ANOTHER FRIDAY

     Have I mentioned that the deep tub sink in the shelter kitchen has a large leak at the hot-water faucet? It's been that way for at least a month, and the environmentalist in me has just gone nuts every time she's seen it!
     The office personnel told me there were no funds for a plumber; however, I reminded them that they had already paid for a plumber several times over, in expenses for water and the water heater's gas. Where are the brains in that place?
     Today… to my utter delight, an engineer friend came from his home more than an hour away, just to fix that faucet! After he thoroughly inspected the situation and turned off the water at the hot-water source (in the basement), we made forays to two hardware shops, seeking replacement washers. There was none to be found. The reasoning was that this commercial sink would need parts from a "commercial-sink" supplier. I found one of those, but it was in New Jersey…
     So my engineer friend (and this is why he can claim the title of Ph.D. engineer) chose some parts that could be substituted. We returned to the shelter, and he worked his magic with the parts we'd found. Then we needed to wait at least an hour for the "glue" to set, so we walked into town and had lunch… in the heat and the tourist-crowded center of town—uphill. Lunch was good.
     Returning felt like uphill as well.
     On second inspection, the sink faucet's new washer rig was working very well, so my friend and I left. As we exited through the foyer, the head honcho was keeping company with the plumber he'd hired to fix the water fountain that was ripped off the wall (months ago, you may recall).
     Earlier, and to my delight, I introduced my friend to Kevin. I'd given my friend some beach rocks to gift Kevin. Kevin delighted in the beach rocks, but could not accept them without a gift in kind. He forced upon us a zip-lock bag with a few rocks and sundry odd things (safety pin hooked to a short tube?, broken earring, dead sticks. He could not accept the beach rocks unless we accepted his collection. Typical Kevin. It was good to see him doing well. I asked about his broken arm, and he said they might have to break it again…
     Doug was making sack lunches when my friend and I arrived around 10 a.m., and he was plating dinners when we returned after shopping. We have so much catching up to do; I can't wait until Sunday!

NO! NOT AGAIN!

     I got a call this morning. Doug would be out another day, and would I please come and "cook?" It's one thing to be a volunteer, but being the cook is a completely different punishment.
     I had adequate help from the office staff, and one of them chose a menu: spaghetti and meatballs with English peas. The meatballs were frozen raw, and getting them to thaw and cook in a reasonable time was the only problem I had. The ovens aren't dependable, and it was hours before those balls were done.
     About a dozen folks came for sack lunches at noon. The girl with the dog was there, and Gatekeeper was quite frowny faced when I mentioned the dog had been in the dining room. Supposedly, it's a helper dog, and the girl does strike me as emotionally fragile… but she wasn't too fragile to let one of the male residents play with her dog by himself this afternoon. Just saying...
     I spotted Kevin having coffee on the sidewalk at the shelter behind ours this morning. His back porch "apartment" was neat and tidy, and we did not see him all day, otherwise.
     We have a new PR person—have I mentioned him? Super nice fellow. Came several times to the kitchen to see if I needed anything. I love his shirts—they're in bright colors that match his personality—let's call him Shirt Man.
     I couldn't leave until the accountant and I had filled and wrapped 36 plates for the warming oven. We're all so tired, but they'll agree that I had la plupart of the heavy lifting today.
     NO, I will NOT go in tomorrow—even if they BEG me! I have real work—that pays!

Romania… if you're listening… life is hard everywhere.