I've been neglecting the blog lately, spending my spare time building a cigarbox uke. Making the neck and fingerboard from scratch. In case you're interested.
But there are a few little things bouncing around in my head that I wanted to record.
1. The other day the Cassini sisters were in town for a few hours, packing up what they have in storage here to truck down to Nova Scotia where they're working and living these days. They emailed and asked my sons if they'd help lug boxes and furniture up the ramp. The kids said sure, but the youngest had to work that afternoon and the eldest had to go to the U. to get his ID card. So it would have to be in the morning. The Cassinis said that would be fine.
But when they went to pick up the truck, it wasn't there. It was in the town to the north, 40 minutes' drive each way. By the time they got the thing and drove it back here, it was too late for us to help.
Funny thing is, this kind of thing keeps happening to me (yes, it's about me). Someone asks me to help with something, I say yes, then something goes wrong that keeps it from happening. A storm hits, an appointment gets rescheduled, somebody gets the flu... And someone else ends up doing the actual help. I hear about it later and write a blog post. If you go back and read some of my older posts, you'll see that I write about "so and so did such and such." It's seldom about me doing anything.
Not sure what to make of this, but I wouldn't recommend asking me to help with anything important. It'll probably get cancelled.
2. I sat across from CL and a new friend, MR, last week. MR is dating a guy who lives at the Motel. She's a really nice woman, funny and quick. She told us that one time she asked a friend to give her a ride to her beau's place. Her friend agreed, but wanted to drop her off just down the block. She didn't want to drive onto the property. MR asked why and her friend said, "I don't want anybody I know seeing me there."
"Why?"
"I just don't want to be seen with those people."
CL was incensed. She told us another story about a person who'd visited Dinner with one of the church groups this summer. The person had later been talking to CL's sister-in-law and told her that they'd never go to Dinner again. Why? Because "I don't want to associate with that kind of people."
CL doesn't know this person. They've never met. She doesn't know that this person has been in jail for violence against a spouse. That this person struggles with the same mental illness that affects a number of the Motelians. That this person's source of income is the same as most of the Motelians. That this person has been so far down that it's amazing they've come this far back up.
She just knows the Motel's been dissed yet again. And she's mad. She's mad because she loves the place and the people and she defends them both as her home and her family and if you ever - ever - get caught by CL badmouthing either - She will
Take
You
Down.
3. Dinner is served every week on styrofoam plates. It is quite amazing how much food a motivated person can put on a styrofoam plate. We don't like using the things because of the environmental side of things, but with no running water in the building we don't have a choice.
One gent has been bringing his own plate lately. Which is cool. If more people did that, we'd make less waste.
Problem is, his plate is a serving platter. The thing is honking huge.
We got a couple of complaints about how much he could fit on there and CL decided to talk to him about it.
Last week I noticed he had a styro plate on top of the big china one. He filled the styro one.
I have mixed feelings about this kind of thing. I don't want anybody embarrassed or driven away, but at the same time I have to respect the rules of the place. People respect CL and if she speaks to them, they generally fall in line.
But I noticed he wasn't at Dinner the next week. So we'll see.
4. We've got some shelves in the 'church' for storing the stuff we use for Dinner - plates, cups, cultery, tinfoil, salt and pepper, sugar, whatever. One is a standup cabinet given to us by a church in town and one used to be the bar when the place was a restaurant. We've turned it around so the shelves face out and use the counter space to keep the desserts on until we're ready to serve them.
These two units have signs on them asking people not to take stuff from there, since it's for the Dinners.
There's another table against the wall near the stove that has a sign on it. "Help yourself to what's on this table."
Sometimes church people or town people will bring donations of food to the Motel and CL will put the stuff on that table for folks to take when they come to Dinner. As people are standing in line for Dinner, they walk past the table and browse and take what they want or need.
These donations don't happen very often, just once in a while.
However, the little table never gets emptied. Every week I walk in there and it's full. Full of cans and boxes and stuff. Soup and veggies and pasta and cereal.
So where does it all come from?
From the Motelians. They come home from the food bank, look at what they've got, and if they can't use it, they put it on the table.
It's our own little food bank. That table is a lovely thing.
r
But there are a few little things bouncing around in my head that I wanted to record.
1. The other day the Cassini sisters were in town for a few hours, packing up what they have in storage here to truck down to Nova Scotia where they're working and living these days. They emailed and asked my sons if they'd help lug boxes and furniture up the ramp. The kids said sure, but the youngest had to work that afternoon and the eldest had to go to the U. to get his ID card. So it would have to be in the morning. The Cassinis said that would be fine.
But when they went to pick up the truck, it wasn't there. It was in the town to the north, 40 minutes' drive each way. By the time they got the thing and drove it back here, it was too late for us to help.
Funny thing is, this kind of thing keeps happening to me (yes, it's about me). Someone asks me to help with something, I say yes, then something goes wrong that keeps it from happening. A storm hits, an appointment gets rescheduled, somebody gets the flu... And someone else ends up doing the actual help. I hear about it later and write a blog post. If you go back and read some of my older posts, you'll see that I write about "so and so did such and such." It's seldom about me doing anything.
Not sure what to make of this, but I wouldn't recommend asking me to help with anything important. It'll probably get cancelled.
2. I sat across from CL and a new friend, MR, last week. MR is dating a guy who lives at the Motel. She's a really nice woman, funny and quick. She told us that one time she asked a friend to give her a ride to her beau's place. Her friend agreed, but wanted to drop her off just down the block. She didn't want to drive onto the property. MR asked why and her friend said, "I don't want anybody I know seeing me there."
"Why?"
"I just don't want to be seen with those people."
CL was incensed. She told us another story about a person who'd visited Dinner with one of the church groups this summer. The person had later been talking to CL's sister-in-law and told her that they'd never go to Dinner again. Why? Because "I don't want to associate with that kind of people."
CL doesn't know this person. They've never met. She doesn't know that this person has been in jail for violence against a spouse. That this person struggles with the same mental illness that affects a number of the Motelians. That this person's source of income is the same as most of the Motelians. That this person has been so far down that it's amazing they've come this far back up.
She just knows the Motel's been dissed yet again. And she's mad. She's mad because she loves the place and the people and she defends them both as her home and her family and if you ever - ever - get caught by CL badmouthing either - She will
Take
You
Down.
3. Dinner is served every week on styrofoam plates. It is quite amazing how much food a motivated person can put on a styrofoam plate. We don't like using the things because of the environmental side of things, but with no running water in the building we don't have a choice.
One gent has been bringing his own plate lately. Which is cool. If more people did that, we'd make less waste.
Problem is, his plate is a serving platter. The thing is honking huge.
We got a couple of complaints about how much he could fit on there and CL decided to talk to him about it.
Last week I noticed he had a styro plate on top of the big china one. He filled the styro one.
I have mixed feelings about this kind of thing. I don't want anybody embarrassed or driven away, but at the same time I have to respect the rules of the place. People respect CL and if she speaks to them, they generally fall in line.
But I noticed he wasn't at Dinner the next week. So we'll see.
4. We've got some shelves in the 'church' for storing the stuff we use for Dinner - plates, cups, cultery, tinfoil, salt and pepper, sugar, whatever. One is a standup cabinet given to us by a church in town and one used to be the bar when the place was a restaurant. We've turned it around so the shelves face out and use the counter space to keep the desserts on until we're ready to serve them.
These two units have signs on them asking people not to take stuff from there, since it's for the Dinners.
There's another table against the wall near the stove that has a sign on it. "Help yourself to what's on this table."
Sometimes church people or town people will bring donations of food to the Motel and CL will put the stuff on that table for folks to take when they come to Dinner. As people are standing in line for Dinner, they walk past the table and browse and take what they want or need.
These donations don't happen very often, just once in a while.
However, the little table never gets emptied. Every week I walk in there and it's full. Full of cans and boxes and stuff. Soup and veggies and pasta and cereal.
So where does it all come from?
From the Motelians. They come home from the food bank, look at what they've got, and if they can't use it, they put it on the table.
It's our own little food bank. That table is a lovely thing.
r
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