Bleeding Jesus and a Lack of Butter

      The house I live in is bordered by a pretty busy 4-lane highway, a successful and very noisy carwash, and two multi-story, multi-family residences. The fire station is right down the street. It's pretty loud most of the time. Sometimes the carwash actually plays good music and not rap, and the firetrucks sometimes won't turn on their sirens until they hit the highway, rather than right outside our house. Small mercies.  The vehicle for the house is a van.  I'll be in charge of most transportation-related issues (and most other things) during my tenure.  That means I'll have to drive the van.  On the Interstate.  In a city.  At rush hour.  I'll also have to park the van.  Parallel park.  In a city.  On a very main drag.  Put your praying pants on, I'm gonna need it!

      Upstairs in the house is a recently remodeled kitchen with loads of counter space and a stovetop with 6 burners, four of which actually work. We also have 3 refrigerators. But no butter. Or hand towels. My pants usually do the trick. Each day of the week, a resident in our house is responsible for cooking the noon meal that is served to homeless individuals, mopping most of the floors, cleaning the bathrooms, and cooking supper. It's quite a bit of work, starting at about 10, ending at 7 or 8, but the house is very clean, to say the least. The upstairs floor also contains an office, one resident room, the office for another Latin American resource place, and a dining/meeting room. A deck extends out the back way, with stairs down to a small garden and a yard. Underneath the deck is a bike-repair place that is open on Saturdays I think.

      The downstairs of the house is reserved for residents. It has a couple of halls that are painted in very garish, Latin American-esque colors. The main color is orange. There are something like 6 rooms for residents, each named after a saint, a laundry room, bathroom with 3 showers, and a little living room with couches and a TV. My room is super tiny but I'll be moving into a different one as soon as the other volunteer leaves. It is much larger and is located farther away from the fire station and the carwash. The artwork in the house is very Catholic inspired. There is a giant portrait of Pope Benedict and another of some other Catholic guy with a red cap that hang over the stairs going to the front door. An incredibly effeminate Jesus keeps watch over the living room, and a Bleeding Jesus crucifix hangs in the staircase from the upstairs dining room to the living room downstairs. It's a little creepy.   

    I'd post pictures, but as you loyal readers all know, my camera hit the deck awhile ago and I don't know my way around well enough to find a way to fix it.  Hopefully I'll be able to take it into the city this Saturday. So I guess your vivid imaginations, coupled with my descriptive writing will have to do the trick for now.