dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Saturday, November 12, 2016

happy birthday

This morning some weird things happened.  At the line there was a fight.  No one punched, but there were threats.  One of the guys had a taser.

A little ways down the road, there was another fight, this one involving a rock.  Someone called the police on that one, and three cop cars showed up.  And an ambulance.

A little kid was throwing rocks at pigeons when his mom wasn't looking.  I wanted to tell him to stop.  Then his mom looked.

We lingered a long time at the serving site.  By the time we got back to the Catholic Worker house, the people who had been waiting for us there were pissed off.  I walked into the room and sensed a wall of crankiness.

So there were bad vibes.  I rinsed and sanitized dishes.  There was a busload of kid volunteers.  One was scraping pots--the other was drying dishes.  The pot scraper had a great attitude.  I would hate that job.  I felt bad for the kids thinking we were all crankipants when in fact it was unusual.

Ming was helping kids wrap gloves as Christmas gifts for people on the soupline.  I hung around in the hallway.  I talked to G.  I asked him about an abstract-looking art on the wall, what it was depicting, and he showed me how it was depicting the transfiguration.

Then I talked to M in the kitchen for a while.  Then Ming was done and M was done so we decided to leave.  We were hungry.

I came home and ate some vegetarian meatloaf that J made for me.

Next I need to clean my desk.  Our friend is coming to town and staying overnight.  We pick him up at the airport at around 3.  Then we have a meeting.

At 6 is a birthday party.  We bought flowers and dollar store vases yesterday.  I need to make a card.


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