PMS, Deadlines, Soup Kitchens, and Fencing
Sep. 3rd, 2008 08:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeanvieveI was careless, haven't had enough red meat or multis this week. Been enduring a touch of PMS, which makes me overcompensate by being manically, aggressively cheerful because I hate the part of me that can be a whiny 2 year old when my will is thwarted. That said, "STUPID SPRINGFIELD DMV!" Ahem. I will apparently not be refreshing my car registration until we get back from the weekend.
Got a lot of balls in the air at work just now, and things are in flux. We shall see where everything lands. My comfort - they will never in a gazillion years fire me. I know too much. I have the secret body counts.
Went to volunteer a couple hours at the soup kitchen in Eugene today. Totally rockin! It's called The Dining Room, and basically is a revamped old diner in layout. It provides a restaurant like atmosphere with fresh flowers on the table. People waited outside in a line with a number, waiting for it to be called when a table opens up. "You can fill out this form over here," the man at the door offers. Not must, not have to. Could, if you wished to provide the county information. It was not required. There was no preaching, no crosses on the walls, no 'God gave you this bounty, you better be grateful you pagan hippy!'
Inside the tables are bussed, drinks brought around, with a dessert tray carted about by a cheerful, attractive young woman. The man working the door also constantly swept, keeping things clean in and around the tables as they emptied. I was proud for a moment to be part of something that could help people out without undue damage to their dignity.
There were all sorts of folks there. A tired looking mother and father of three toddlers. Young lads that looked like frat boys. Aging, long time street people with bad dentistry. A few faintly distressed looking folks of my mom's age that just looked to be a bit down on their luck. Some were greeted by name by the staff, long time participants on both sides of the table. A few had a certain wondering tone to them, talking about how they had just been told about this place and it was their first time in.
A couple even had that gleam in their eye of appreciation that went further. They came up and asked if they could volunteer. Was there anything they could do in exchange for this meal? Could they clean, or sweep, or wash dishes? No job was too small, and they felt strongly that they should participate for having received such a simple blessing. Not knowing my way around, I sent them off to the volunteers that had name badges, as they were old hands at this.
Three almost spoiled it for me upon first viewing. They sniffed at the food, talking about how it had gone downhill in quantity and quality. For being younger than I was, they had an air that they deigned to grace the room with their presence, but we'd better improve it or they wouldn't bother returning.
My first reaction was irritation. How dare you criticize what is freely given, I thought indignantly, turning up your nose at charity while still taking it! You are unworthy to receive it if you are so nasty about it! Then an instant later a flood of guilt. Oh lord, what an idiot I can be. Sometimes it's the unworthy that need our charity the most. Maybe that first poor fellow isn't quite right in the head. Maybe the second was full of helpless anger at the world and his circumstances that is spilling out because he has no where else to let it go. Perhaps the third has to humbly beg for pennies on the sidewalk, swallowing his pride and his bitterness that once he had a lot and now has nothing. And on top of this, they have to stand in line in the parking lot to receive more charity.
They're human, I thought, fallen on hard times and deserving of kindness and compassion. I'm sorry I let them bother me. Guess I'm human too.
Anyway. Afterwards according to an agreement last week, Gryfen and I took fencing gear to fighter practice. Noah and Giacopo the week before had a schlager, and they wanted to learn. While we waited for them, Gryf and I sparred a bit. My goodness, how completely out of shape I am! But not as bad as I feared it might be. My knees, however, now tell me that I could do more yoga before doing this again. Still, it's exercise and I totally need more of that. The two boys didn't show before dark, so we just came home. Gryffie made me a blackberry banana smoothie, and strained out the seeds. He wuvs me!
Got a lot of balls in the air at work just now, and things are in flux. We shall see where everything lands. My comfort - they will never in a gazillion years fire me. I know too much. I have the secret body counts.
Went to volunteer a couple hours at the soup kitchen in Eugene today. Totally rockin! It's called The Dining Room, and basically is a revamped old diner in layout. It provides a restaurant like atmosphere with fresh flowers on the table. People waited outside in a line with a number, waiting for it to be called when a table opens up. "You can fill out this form over here," the man at the door offers. Not must, not have to. Could, if you wished to provide the county information. It was not required. There was no preaching, no crosses on the walls, no 'God gave you this bounty, you better be grateful you pagan hippy!'
Inside the tables are bussed, drinks brought around, with a dessert tray carted about by a cheerful, attractive young woman. The man working the door also constantly swept, keeping things clean in and around the tables as they emptied. I was proud for a moment to be part of something that could help people out without undue damage to their dignity.
There were all sorts of folks there. A tired looking mother and father of three toddlers. Young lads that looked like frat boys. Aging, long time street people with bad dentistry. A few faintly distressed looking folks of my mom's age that just looked to be a bit down on their luck. Some were greeted by name by the staff, long time participants on both sides of the table. A few had a certain wondering tone to them, talking about how they had just been told about this place and it was their first time in.
A couple even had that gleam in their eye of appreciation that went further. They came up and asked if they could volunteer. Was there anything they could do in exchange for this meal? Could they clean, or sweep, or wash dishes? No job was too small, and they felt strongly that they should participate for having received such a simple blessing. Not knowing my way around, I sent them off to the volunteers that had name badges, as they were old hands at this.
Three almost spoiled it for me upon first viewing. They sniffed at the food, talking about how it had gone downhill in quantity and quality. For being younger than I was, they had an air that they deigned to grace the room with their presence, but we'd better improve it or they wouldn't bother returning.
My first reaction was irritation. How dare you criticize what is freely given, I thought indignantly, turning up your nose at charity while still taking it! You are unworthy to receive it if you are so nasty about it! Then an instant later a flood of guilt. Oh lord, what an idiot I can be. Sometimes it's the unworthy that need our charity the most. Maybe that first poor fellow isn't quite right in the head. Maybe the second was full of helpless anger at the world and his circumstances that is spilling out because he has no where else to let it go. Perhaps the third has to humbly beg for pennies on the sidewalk, swallowing his pride and his bitterness that once he had a lot and now has nothing. And on top of this, they have to stand in line in the parking lot to receive more charity.
They're human, I thought, fallen on hard times and deserving of kindness and compassion. I'm sorry I let them bother me. Guess I'm human too.
Anyway. Afterwards according to an agreement last week, Gryfen and I took fencing gear to fighter practice. Noah and Giacopo the week before had a schlager, and they wanted to learn. While we waited for them, Gryf and I sparred a bit. My goodness, how completely out of shape I am! But not as bad as I feared it might be. My knees, however, now tell me that I could do more yoga before doing this again. Still, it's exercise and I totally need more of that. The two boys didn't show before dark, so we just came home. Gryffie made me a blackberry banana smoothie, and strained out the seeds. He wuvs me!
