Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica: Chapter 5 (Book 3)

It’s here!  Are you ready for Jessica’s second notebook? You can grab Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica; The Second Year right now for paperback or Kindle! YASSS!

In case you missed the last chapter, you can find it here.

Dear Diary,

It’s me, Jessica.

Using the no-flat tires we got from the hardware store, Dad built Katie two pull-behind carts.  The third one, he made it a full four-wheeled flat bed twice as wide as the pull-behind carts and three times as long to be pulled by a two-horse team.

Katie was delighted.

“Can you make a frame for a cover?  I will pay you in lamb, beef, and rabbit!”

Katie did not have to offer anything, as Dad already had his thinking face on.    

It took Dad a week, but he made a frame that attached to the flat bed, with high arches spaced at equal intervals from front to back, supports at the top and the sides, and angled supports to limit forward and backward flexing.  Katie and her group then attached tanned hides to form the cover.  It was a little strange looking, but it worked.

Dad built Katie a refrigerator smoker as promised for taking us to the hardware store.  

“The horses we took from those men harassing Charlie, technically Jack and Jessica took them and by all rights belong to them,” Katie nodded to me as her men were loading the refrigerator smoker onto the flat bed.

“Dad and Jack don’t know how to ride a horse,” I pointed out.

“No, but Rae does.  I think it is only fair for her to have one with the tack.  I will leave that one for Rae,” Katie thumbed a gloved hand at one of the horses.  “About her size, and it has a good temperament.  And if you need the use of one or more of the horses you are welcome to them.”

“I think Jack and Rae would agree.  I thank you for the offer on the horses if we need them.”

“You have been more than just neighbors,” Katie said with a smile and a tip of her cowboy hat.  She then ordered her men to saddle up and take their new smoker back home.

Entry two

Not sure how it came about, but Saturday mornings were “laundry day.”  We used old large storage bins, one was the “wash,” the other two were the “rinse.”  

Using wood ash, straw, and dried grass, Dad made lye soap as laundry detergent.  He tried to make it smell better by adding different things, but it never seemed to work out.  That was okay.  Our clothing was clean.  Dad put up two laundry lines from the edge of the house roof to one of the maple trees in the backyard.  It was a warm spring day with a variable breeze.  In three or four hours, the clothes would be dry.  Before the power went out, Mom always used the dryer with a fabric sheet that would leave an artificial “clean” smell on the clothes.  I think I like the smell of line-dried clothing better.

Dad, of course, briefly considered ways to dry the clothing faster using a used refrigerator and something called “heat exchangers.”  Mom gave him one of her looks and said that if he made our clean clothing smell like a burnt stick, he would have to wash all the clothes by himself.  The look, the threat, Dad quickly dropped the idea.

Just as we were finishing hanging up the clothes, Rae, Jack, Samson, and the puppies came around the corner.

“We finished hanging up our clothes to dry not five minutes ago,” Rae said.

“We?” I asked her with a sly smile as I greeted Samson and the puppies with ear scratches.  Jack suddenly looked anywhere but in my direction, and Rae blushed.

“Oh, Rae, I have a horse for you,” I said with the most matter-of-fact tone I could muster.

Jack’s head snapped around, and Rae’s mouth fell open.  At the same time, they both exclaimed, “What!?!”

I explained to them what Katie thought about the men harassing Charlie, Jack, and me , how they were dealt with, and how technically the horses should be ours.  

“I don’t know how to ride a horse.  I don’t know the first thing about them,” Jack simply stated.

“Yes, Jack, I know and said the same to Katie.  Katie said that Rae knows how to ride and should have one of the horses with full tack.  She also offered the use of the other horses if we needed them.  Said we were more than neighbors with a tip of her cowboy hat.”

“Sounds like Katie, all right.  Chicken and biscuits, I have my own horse,” Rae said to no one in particular.  

Entry three

When things first started out, we would rotate dinner with different people hosting at their homes to keep things balanced.  But when Dad built the outdoor oven, it only made sense to have dinner at our place.  There was an oven to bake bread.  The side open fire stoves could cook up to four dishes each.  Over a bed of coals, people could braise meats in a Dutch Oven or make a stew.  There was plenty of room to use a cast-iron grilling basket and grill meats or vegetables.  

Dad’s big prep table also helped, as many as six people could prep without bumping into each other.  

Mom would contribute to dinners, but everyone made sure she did as little clean-up as possible.  

HAM Guy joined us with three boned chickens.  He handed Mom a pot with the chicken bones.  

“Here.  I was told by Katie’s guys that you can make stock out of those.”

“You don’t know how to?” Mom asked.

“I am an electronics and radio geek.  You really want me to try to make chicken stock, lest I food-poison us all?”

“Point taken,” Mom took the bones and put them into a large Dutch Oven to make chicken stock with onions, scapes, and herbs.

“What have you heard on the radio nets?” Jack asked as he dealt the next hand of cards to Rae, Dad, and me.

“Well, I have a bit of good news.  Remember the National Guard Captain Barnet and his group?  They popped up on the nets.  Made it to the airfield with the other National Guard units.  They even made contact with the governor.  They are making tentative plans for a, and I quote, a “provisional” state government.  Not sure what that means, but I am sure they will come up with something.”

“At this point in time, I will take it with a degree of caution, as progress,” Jack observed.  “Do you have any fours?” Jack asked me.  

“No.  Go fish,” I answered.

“City HAM Guy says Jamal and his group have found some more goodies to trade.  He says they need seeds.”

“I have some for coffee,” Mom smiled sweetly.

“We have some.  I would not mind some chocolate if they have it,” Rae asked.  “Jessica and I can go to Four Corners and see if they have any seeds for trade, too.”

HAM Guy nodded.

“I heard from a few HAMs out East.  Some of them have hit their last frost date and are starting to plant outdoors.”

“According to Joanna, we have about two more weeks before we hit our last frost date.  I know I am ready.  Got seedlings going in nearly every planter, unused pot I could find,” Mom declared.  

“We have started our seedlings, too,” Rae chimed in.

“The HAM guys down in the South have been growing nearly year-round.  Sounds nice to have fresh food anytime, but not sure I would want their summers.”  HAM Guy’s brow furrowed at the idea.

“Something odd is going on to the West,” he continued.  “All the HAMs in California have gone off the air.  Not just for a day or two but the whole week.”  Everyone stopped what they were doing to listen.  “City HAM Guy said he talked to a HAM out of Seattle a few days ago.  The Seattle HAM noted the same thing.  Now, Seattle has gone off the air.”

“Should we be concerned?” Rae asked Jack.

“California and Seattle are a long way away. Let’s not get concerned until there is something to be concerned about.  Until then, we just keep an eye on it.”

HAM Guy nodded.

Don’t forget to get your copy of Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica; The Second Year from Amazon!

About 1stMarineJarHead

1^stMarineJarHead is not only a former Marine, but also a former EMT-B, Wilderness EMT (courtesy of NOLS), and volunteer firefighter.

He currently resides in the great white (i.e. snowy) Northeast with his wife and dogs. He raises chickens, rabbits, goats, occasionally hogs, cows and sometimes ducks. He grows various veggies and has a weird fondness for rutabagas. He enjoys reading, writing, cooking from scratch, making charcuterie, target shooting, and is currently expanding his woodworking skills.