Once again, despite what Tom thinks, I got up, took Margaret for her walkies, drank tea, did the crossword, vacuumed the top half of my house, cleaned the toilets (such exciting news,), gardened a bit, charted the planned design for a pair of socks, went with Rebecca to the Family Kitchen to feed the Hungry, and then shopping at my favorite grocery store where I got lots of delicacies, including Kellogg’s Corn Pops – a favorite food since year one. Also mangos, avocados, peaches and nectarines. Yum! As usual, I had a lovely time at the Family Kitchen. I was quick to place myself in the “serving salad” spot in the northern half of the serving line. There are several advantages to this. I usually always serve in the northern line because it closes first, and I can get to washing the pots and pans sooner. Occasionally, I start out washing pots and not serving because there seems to be a quorum of servers, and later am called to serve (just like the apostles) when another server is needed. Then, since by that time I have missed my preferred spot, I must serve desserts in the less desirable southern line. For some odd reason, if there is trouble among our guests, it is most often the southern line in which eruptions break out. Perhaps because one has to walk across the room to get to the northern line, and that is a bit more work. Also, serving salad is a desirable position and serving desserts is not. The main dish server, next to whom I stand, frequently has to give out a specific amount, and sometimes this amount seems insufficient to some of our patrons. The rowdier of them can make this apparent in often quite unpleasant ways. Giving out desserts is the most traumatic of all for me, because there are decisions, sometimes painful, to be made regarding the virtues of cake vs. pie, and then cherry pie vs. apple pie, etc. And then some folks who simply cannot decide try to grab two, or change their mind and want to give the cake back and exchange for pie (a no-no – once you touch it, it’s yours), and become very aggravated when foiled in this. Salad is neutral, rather unexciting, and finite. Most people are happy with whatever I give them, although one woman was outraged last night because I offered her salad and she was allergic to tomatoes. “You should know this!” she shrieked. It was the first time I had laid eyes on her, so I can’t imagine how I would have known it. Rebecca, who was serving bread - worse than the main dish, but not so bad as dessert – was thrilled to see her mom the victim of a raving virago, and smirked happily for some time afterwards.
The creepy man comes to the Family Kitchen, and is meek as a kitten. He looks with kindly eyes on the server, politely says “Thank you,” and seems to be one of the nicest of our patrons. Perhaps he suffers from a form of lycanthropy! His ferocious rantings at night are the total obverse of his gentle demeanor at during the day. Rachael took this picture with her telephone of him at his ranting station . The top pictures are of some others of our favorite Family Kitchen regulars.
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