In the gutter - A Temporary Break

It's been hard to get online, not so much because of the power but because I have been struggling to keep things going here.  The last thing I can think about most days is sitting down and writing about it.  But Yucky got me on the phone and reminded me that it's coming up on my turn to write for the site so here I am, reading through all your stories so I can tell the world what we've been up to.

It's a bizarre mix of the most alarming and depressing news, and the most uplifting and optimistic reports, of people hurting, but more importantly, coming together and helping.  Again, I am choosing to be positive.

Maybe this improved mood is also because we have been pulled back from the brink here at Camp Hampster.

As expected, I lost my job sometime in the middle of August.  I was able to prepare for it in some ways, but there was no preparing for the absolute misery of not having enough money to cover expenses.  Everything has been cut to the bone. The farm where Uncle Frank does guard duty is struggling too, and we have not been getting as much food from them as I counted on.

So about a week ago as I'm sitting in the kitchen wondering what we are going to do, Tom calls in for his nightly chat with Uncle Frank.  He says hey Sharon howre you doing? and I tell him out of nowhere that I have to take Shaggy to the pound because we can't feed him anymore and I start crying and I give the phone to a very startled Uncle Frank. (I hadn't said anything about the dog before that.)

Three days ago the truck pulled up in the yard.  A big, green army truck, loaded with boxes.  Tom jumped out of the drivers side with the biggest, sh*t-eatingest grin on his face. Hey Shay, he says, the calvary is here.  Tom and some other guys he knows in the reserves found out that the Army was stockpiling stuff in case of "civil distress". There are cases and cases of food and water and blankets and medicine and other goods just sitting in warehouses on the base, waiting for the governor or whoever the heck decides these things to call up and tell them to deliver them to the Red Cross or the shelters or whatever.  Tom told them about Uncle Frank and Grace and me and they decided that they could start delivery a little bit earlier. Tom's buddy Randy works in the motorpool and signed out the truck, then he and Tom backed it up to the door of the warehouse where his other buddy was on guard duty and started loading.

First thing I had them do was drive up to the home and leave about half of it with them.  And then we went over to Sacred Heart and left a pile of boxes in the back where they had the food pantry set up under a tent. And so no one could accuse us of playing favorites we dropped off another pile at Grace Presbyterian, and at Good Shepherd too. Tom was getting a little upset with me, telling me he brought this stuff up for Grace and Frank and I, but I told him, theres no need to hoard it, there are other people here who need help too. Dont worry, I said, Im not giving all of it away.  The rest is in our basement.  I admit I kept the big bag of kibble I found.  And the case of cookies.  (They might come in useful later, if we need to barter.)

I know we're lucky.  I also know that this is just a temporary reprieve.  A few MREs and some canned fruit might help us hold out for a few more weeks, but we'll need some real help if we're going to survive out here.  I need to think about all our options.