Dawn stopped over this morning to see if I had any baking soda I could spare.  I’m starting to feel a bit stingy with my preps, so I asked her why.  She told me for a rehydration and electrolyte formula for the flu victims.  I thought it might be for making biscuits, and mentally chastised myself.  I got a 36 oz. container from the cold pantry and gave it to her.

“I understand now why Kathleen always came here first if she needed something and couldn’t get to town,” she mused.  I just laughed.  That was different; Kathy always wanted herbs or something gourmet like a vanilla bean or saffron.  Dawn knew how to make stuff to help the sick.  The formula was the same as the one I copied from Jane.

Electrolytes: ¾ t. salt, 1 t. baking soda, 4 T. sugar, ¾ qt. water, 1 c. juice (if no juice, ok to use water.)

Rehydration: 1 pt. water, 1 t. salt, ¼ t. baking soda

A good recipe to remember.

“So, is there something you want to barter for this?” Dawn asked, holding the container of baking soda.

“Just use it wisely,” I was slightly affronted but let it slide.  I know I’m not at my best right now, and she was being such a help to Gary.

Jason is hovering over Jacob’s every move, totally opposite of how he was before.  I finally had to have a chat with him.

“Jacob is fine, Jason.  The cave in was an accident, and it was caught immediately.  You’re making Jacob nervous… and us, so, please, back off,” I was trying to be gentle.  How gentle is too gentle when he’s been thru this trauma?

“But, Mom, he almost died because of me,” Jason was so distressed.

“But he didn’t!  Take this as a learning experience…. For you,” I took his hands in mine.  “You’re such a good father, Jason, but you need to see the different shades of the picture: all of the what-ifs that seem to go more with a mother’s view.  I know I use to drive myself crazy removing all the potential what-ifs hurts from your and Eric’s life.  And I learned to temper that, by focusing on the most potentially disastrous and removing that.”  I sighed, remembering so many little accidents, some major, that happened when their father was present and I wasn’t; accidents that could have been avoided, because Jim never thought more than two steps ahead, whereas I thought ten.  “Instead of being fearful, be grateful, Jason.”

“Grateful??  That he almost died?” He just wasn’t hearing me.

“No, grateful that he lived.  You have the opportunity to learn first-hand, the consequences of certain actions, so learn it; don’t let this accident go to waste!  Be watchful, but don’t smother him.”  I think maybe I’m getting thru to him.   We’ll see.

I really need to get out of the house.  It’s Tuesday, and it’s been several days since I’ve been to the office or checked in with Darlene. I announced I was going to the office and that I needed a few extra things done first.

We are starting to collect a lot of empty canning jars that I wanted to get out to the food barn, so the guys needed to clear that path and get me a few empty boxes that I can refill.  John suggested that I go ahead to the office and they would take care of what needed to be done. I think they took the hint that they needed to get busy again.

Darlene has managed to collate a census from the food pantry activity.  Going by these numbers, we have 52 people still in Moose Creek, and maybe that many more out in the woods.  The wood-dwellers are not our concern right now; those are the most self-sufficient bunch around; I know, I use to be one of them.  So there are just over one hundred people left in the township, out of nearly 800.  We’ve had almost 25 deaths, so that leaves over 600 residents that have left for the city.  Good information to have, but I’m not sure what we’re going to do with it.  At least I will have a more accurate number when I have to go back and beg for more food.  And I will have to do that before long.  I looked at the tables of dwindling food supplies and wondered how long this will last those 52 people.  Two weeks? Maybe three?  Then it will be back to Marquette, and back to pleading for my town.

I pulled into my parking space in the barn around 4pm, as promised.  The drive was clear, the paths were cleared and I could actually hear squealing from inside the house.  Jacob had conned John into giving him a ride on my office chair!  Jacob was back to normal, his near brush with death forgotten.