Story Up On Hartford Ridge
- Thread starter Kathy in FL
- Start date
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Kathy,
Great stuff as usual. Thanks for all of your work they are surely a blessing in written form.
Great stuff as usual. Thanks for all of your work they are surely a blessing in written form.
Jeepcats27
Senior Member
Wow, what comes next?
How are you and your mother doing with your dress hunt?
Any luck yet?
How are you and your mother doing with your dress hunt?
Any luck yet?
The Lord answered my please for mercy and we got them at the first place we shopped ... JCPenney's ... and they were both on sale. Mine was the first dress I put my hands on. LOL. Yippee skippee. And it should be obvious that I hate clothes shopping. Ugh.
We are up at our BOL until Monday morning. Windstream came out and put in a temporary wire to reconnect us to the interwebz but the rain really delayed some electrical work we wanted to get finished. Hubs will come up next week again, not sure if I will. Life is way too crazy.
Looks like daughter and soon to be son in law are apartment hunting in Tampa so barring a little back and forth until his graduation ceremony after the wedding/honeymoon they intend on job hunting in Tampa. Relief for me simply because I don't think she will do well away from her social support network until the marriage (and she) matures a bit. Just because she is 26 doesn't mean that first year or two of marriage is going to be nothing but bliss.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Busy days indeed, and yes I also understand about young married's and what they think they are ready for. Glad she will will be staying in the area. One of our young women lol (44) and family are down in Sierra Visa, AZ. She asked me when do men start to mellow? lol.
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juco
Veteran Member
Sara, that reminds me of one of the aunts, who was in her 60’s at the time, asking my granny, who was probably in her late 70’s (she wasn’t sure exactly when her birthday was) how old you had to be before your man stopped “pestering” you. Granny told her, Lordy honey, you’re going to have to ask somebody older than me! lol
Texican
Live Free & Die Free.... God Freedom Country....
Jeepcats27
Senior Member
Great news about your dress hunts!
Moar please!
Moar please!
Texican
Live Free & Die Free.... God Freedom Country....
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Use 'Watch' w/ email notification. Then you'll know if its likely to be an update from the Mother of the Bride or just one of us --- less disappointment that way.
Point made just above this; I always thought T was a kinder, gentler sort but apparently there's a little Torquemada in his DNA
Point made just above this; I always thought T was a kinder, gentler sort but apparently there's a little Torquemada in his DNA
Cedar Lake
Connecticut Yankee
More important questions are rising to the forefront now, Spring is coming.
1) When will the seed, fertilizer, & the ''I'm Here From The Gov't'' instructions on how to plant Kaylee Baffa- Hartford's farm arrive?
2} The ''I'm Here From The Gov't'' folks will be tellin Kay-Lee, Gramps, & all the uncles how the harvest can be harvested faster with their new mandatory plan.
3) This is satisfy the Washington, D.C. (District of Criminals) group's plan to make feed the cities fair & equitable.
Thank God, The United States Congress & the D.C. (District of Criminals) has that Steel Fence erected.
They did'nt get the messege that the fence was to keep them in so they could try working 7 days a week, with no more recesses.
4) There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the ''I'm Here From The Gov't'' instructions & new plans shall have all the new regulations regarding the daily water usage to protect all the endangered species
except for humans.
There's gonna be a whole lot more new & upcoming paths & off-shoots to explore in the years to come with The Hartford Clan Saga.
I'm kind'a leaning towards 13 Volumes, you know, like a baker's dozen (For The Recipes).
I think I need another pot of coffee, it's time to step it a notch with moar.... new ideas.
Cedar Lake......
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Catshooter
Contributing Member
Kathy!
Please come back and finish this one, please pretty please!
Please come back and finish this one, please pretty please!
Kathy posted in the Corkboard on Wednesday her apologies for not writing, but she is exhausted due to several life events. She'll be back when she can!
Catshooter
Contributing Member
What in world is Corkboard?
Like the Bomb shelter, the Corkboard is a members only section of TB2K:
The Corkboard: TB Community Center
The meeting place for the other side of TB - the community of members. This is the section for personal posts and discussions that aren't globally newsworthy or better placed in a specific SIG.
You have posted enough to have access, ask a moderator if you can't get in.
Old Gray Mare
TB Fanatic
For lurkers interested in stories? There are quit a number of them in the Members only story section.
Mother Hen here's hoping you had a wonderful Mother's Day.
Mother Hen here's hoping you had a wonderful Mother's Day.
Hot as Hades here at the BOL so decided to come in out of the heat and finish this chapter. Hopefully I will get another chapter up tonight on one of the other stories in progress. Sorry it has taken me so long to get back to writing. Real life can be such a drag when all you want to do is play. LOL
------------------------
Chapter 117 (Part 1)
The sun hadn’t been up an hour when Burt ran in the back door in a near panic, grabbing Jolene up, disturbing her breakfast.
“There’s army men coming down the road!”
Barbara and I had planned for an emergency. Not exactly this particular emergency but close enough as makes no never mind. Burt took Jolene down into the basement getting a promise that we’d leave the “tube” open so he could hear. We’d rigged up something that I’d read about in a book … a pipe that ran from the kitchen down to the basement directly below that was corked at both ends unless it was in use as an old-fashioned intercom. It was little better than a string with a cup on both ends but a little was still better than nothing.
Barbara would stay out of sight unless called upon. Even in the kitchen I could hear a large truck with air brakes pull to a stop and then there was the sound of someone jogging up the front steps. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
I had to trust Barbara wouldn’t get too anxious; she was watching our back entrance for just in case.
I twitched the front window’s curtain, peeked outside, and then opened the door a bit. “May I help you?”
“Is this the home of Kay-Lee Hartford and Barbara Hartford?”
Rather than answer I said, “You aren’t the normal inspectors.”
The guy who’d been standing there was maybe about my age but sure looked younger. Then a woman stepped into view and he stepped back respectfully. “We aren’t inspectors,” she said with a sardonic twist of her mouth. She looked at some paper she was carrying then back at me and then said, “Sawyer said we’d have to prove who we were. May I step forward? The men will hang back.”
I nodded and she inched her way forward and then handed me something that looked like a cross between an 4x6 index card and a postcard. I took it with shaking hands. I turned it over and Sawyer’s chicken scratch was even smaller and more cramped than normal.
“Hey Babe. Can’t explain much and even if I could at this time there are rules about what can go through the mail. I want to be home but can’t right now and Huely is in the same boat. What I can tell you is that Huely and I are both gainfully employed and are partnering on this assignment. We can both also say we are as well as can be expected and better off than we were but miss you all like crazy. That’s about all we can share, and now down to brass tacks. Being gainfully employed means we aren’t just “volunteering our time” as we were, but we are still in restricted circumstances, a bit like being drafted though we aren’t military. I can also say that due to our employment contract our pay comes in a bit of different ways. The lady in front of you is someone we work with and oversees some of the distribution of that pay and is doing a favor to drop a portion of it off to you and Barbara on her way to another location. Do me a favor and make sure their water is topped off using the hand pump since we cleaned that one with bleach when I rebuilt the fittings. Water can be suspect between secured locations, and fresh water that isn’t full of chemicals is worth something. She’s good people and she’ll vouch for those with her, or she’ll leave them in whatever vehicle they are driving. While you are doing that if you could write a note back, and Barbara one to Huely, you’d make me an extremely happy man. I’ve heard some news from home thanks to a few of the knotheads, but some things do not please me and I’m desperate to hear of you and the kids directly. I wish I could tell you when we’ll be home but there’s no way of sharing that info, especially as I have no idea myself. Don’t bother trying to hide that the family has been showing their backside, just let me know how you are. Crossed paths with Toby and he shared what he’d been hearing. Can’t write what I feel like right now. All I can say is that you have my full faith and confidence and then some. Please still feel the same way about me. I haven’t abandoned you and am sticking to our stipulations. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I want to say more but we are limited to the space we have to use, and I need to give Huely a chance to say something to Barbara on the other side of this notecard. Huely and I are sending cards for you to use that are postage paid. Will get word to you again when possible. Working our way home. Have faith on that and my love. Sawyer.
The woman’s name was Amy Groff. I still don’t understand the hierarchy of authority in their group. She isn’t military or national guard, but she isn’t exactly a civilian either. A contractor? Maybe. She kept things close to the vest, and possibly to keep me guessing when she didn’t need to. For now I’m not interested in knowing the nitty gritty details. And I’m not sure I’m interested in knowing Amy Groff either.
Barbara is a good-looking woman. Being pregnant only makes her better looking, even under the difficult circumstances we are living. Do I need to say I’m not? Uncle Ned was kind to call me road hard and hung up wet. And no, I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I just realize I am not a pretty girl. I’m tired and all the work I’m doing and how I feel only reinforces that I’m not a pretty girl. I might one day have a … a handsome look to me, but I’ll never be traditionally good-looking like Barbara and I’m fine with that. Amy Groff … she’s already grown into being good-looking though she pretends to hide it. And it doesn’t bother me. To be honest I would have thought the kind of looks she has would be a problem for her. Sawyer spoke for her, so I just took it at face value. No pun intended. Until I remembered that Sawyer is a guy. Maybe not like every other guy, but he’s still a guy and the type of guy he is kinda habitually underestimates certain females.
As Barbara and I filled their water containers – Sawyer’s hint at the value of clean drinking water let me know this was a barter for something so I played my part – we found out that Amy Groff met Sawyer and Huely as they were in the mechanics pool, and she was frequently around to check out a vehicle.
“Met him the first time at a dance. Sawyer is a great dancer.”
This wasn’t the first little dig I’d heard in her words but this time it was noticeable to Barbara who said, “I take it attendance was mandatory.”
“How did you …?" She was startled telling me she wasn't near as smart as she's been led to believe. To cover her verbal blunder she added, "Uh, well, some people had to be prodded to attend, but we all wound up having a really good time.”
She tried a few more salvos to feel me out and see if I’d fall for what she was selling but Barbara was there and interfered enough that “Groff” as the other men called her, had to back off and then get gone. Barbara went so far as to put our postcards in the mailbox herself rather than hand them to Groff. She also called her an unflattering word, but I didn't say anything since I believe in the Freedom of Speech. Not to mention Barbara is more than good at giving as good as she got and I'm not averse to having friends like that.
After they pulled out … they’d really only been there about forty-five minutes … Burt finally stuck his head out.
“Wow. What’s in them big boxes?”
Barbara looked like she wanted to talk but it would have to wait. I told Burt, “Don’t know. Let’s see about dragging them in so we can find out. Run and get the dolly from the barn.”
# # # # #
Burt went off to do some of his outside chores with a kick in his step. He understood what the venison and the contents of the crates meant for us. I thought Barbara had let the rest go but as soon as Burt was off the porch she turned to me and said, “Don’t listen to what that ... that female ... said.”
I snorted. “Way ahead of you,” I told her. “I figured her out fairly quickly. Did you read the note I sent Sawyer?”
“I wouldn’t read your mail.”
I wanted to roll my eyes but didn’t. “It is going to be read by a bunch of people, you’d be the last one that it would bother me if you did.” She looked at me with a lift of her eyebrow. “I said she reminded me of Lisa.”
It only took a second for Barbara to chuckle. “That’ll do it. Hopefully he and Huely will get the hint.” She finally slid into a chair and put her face in her hands. “They’re all right. They’re really all right and together and they let us know themselves.”
We took a few minutes to pull ourselves together, but we were honestly both just too tired to let loose as much as we could have. Just seeing Sawyer’s horrible handwriting was a comfort, his words even more so. Unfortunately all it did was make me crave more from him and that didn't seem to be happening any time soon and I need to use some sense. We needed to get the contents of the crates put away as soon as possible. No telling if the inspectors would be out or not.
------------------------
Chapter 117 (Part 1)
The sun hadn’t been up an hour when Burt ran in the back door in a near panic, grabbing Jolene up, disturbing her breakfast.
“There’s army men coming down the road!”
Barbara and I had planned for an emergency. Not exactly this particular emergency but close enough as makes no never mind. Burt took Jolene down into the basement getting a promise that we’d leave the “tube” open so he could hear. We’d rigged up something that I’d read about in a book … a pipe that ran from the kitchen down to the basement directly below that was corked at both ends unless it was in use as an old-fashioned intercom. It was little better than a string with a cup on both ends but a little was still better than nothing.
Barbara would stay out of sight unless called upon. Even in the kitchen I could hear a large truck with air brakes pull to a stop and then there was the sound of someone jogging up the front steps. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
I had to trust Barbara wouldn’t get too anxious; she was watching our back entrance for just in case.
I twitched the front window’s curtain, peeked outside, and then opened the door a bit. “May I help you?”
“Is this the home of Kay-Lee Hartford and Barbara Hartford?”
Rather than answer I said, “You aren’t the normal inspectors.”
The guy who’d been standing there was maybe about my age but sure looked younger. Then a woman stepped into view and he stepped back respectfully. “We aren’t inspectors,” she said with a sardonic twist of her mouth. She looked at some paper she was carrying then back at me and then said, “Sawyer said we’d have to prove who we were. May I step forward? The men will hang back.”
I nodded and she inched her way forward and then handed me something that looked like a cross between an 4x6 index card and a postcard. I took it with shaking hands. I turned it over and Sawyer’s chicken scratch was even smaller and more cramped than normal.
“Hey Babe. Can’t explain much and even if I could at this time there are rules about what can go through the mail. I want to be home but can’t right now and Huely is in the same boat. What I can tell you is that Huely and I are both gainfully employed and are partnering on this assignment. We can both also say we are as well as can be expected and better off than we were but miss you all like crazy. That’s about all we can share, and now down to brass tacks. Being gainfully employed means we aren’t just “volunteering our time” as we were, but we are still in restricted circumstances, a bit like being drafted though we aren’t military. I can also say that due to our employment contract our pay comes in a bit of different ways. The lady in front of you is someone we work with and oversees some of the distribution of that pay and is doing a favor to drop a portion of it off to you and Barbara on her way to another location. Do me a favor and make sure their water is topped off using the hand pump since we cleaned that one with bleach when I rebuilt the fittings. Water can be suspect between secured locations, and fresh water that isn’t full of chemicals is worth something. She’s good people and she’ll vouch for those with her, or she’ll leave them in whatever vehicle they are driving. While you are doing that if you could write a note back, and Barbara one to Huely, you’d make me an extremely happy man. I’ve heard some news from home thanks to a few of the knotheads, but some things do not please me and I’m desperate to hear of you and the kids directly. I wish I could tell you when we’ll be home but there’s no way of sharing that info, especially as I have no idea myself. Don’t bother trying to hide that the family has been showing their backside, just let me know how you are. Crossed paths with Toby and he shared what he’d been hearing. Can’t write what I feel like right now. All I can say is that you have my full faith and confidence and then some. Please still feel the same way about me. I haven’t abandoned you and am sticking to our stipulations. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I want to say more but we are limited to the space we have to use, and I need to give Huely a chance to say something to Barbara on the other side of this notecard. Huely and I are sending cards for you to use that are postage paid. Will get word to you again when possible. Working our way home. Have faith on that and my love. Sawyer.
The woman’s name was Amy Groff. I still don’t understand the hierarchy of authority in their group. She isn’t military or national guard, but she isn’t exactly a civilian either. A contractor? Maybe. She kept things close to the vest, and possibly to keep me guessing when she didn’t need to. For now I’m not interested in knowing the nitty gritty details. And I’m not sure I’m interested in knowing Amy Groff either.
Barbara is a good-looking woman. Being pregnant only makes her better looking, even under the difficult circumstances we are living. Do I need to say I’m not? Uncle Ned was kind to call me road hard and hung up wet. And no, I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I just realize I am not a pretty girl. I’m tired and all the work I’m doing and how I feel only reinforces that I’m not a pretty girl. I might one day have a … a handsome look to me, but I’ll never be traditionally good-looking like Barbara and I’m fine with that. Amy Groff … she’s already grown into being good-looking though she pretends to hide it. And it doesn’t bother me. To be honest I would have thought the kind of looks she has would be a problem for her. Sawyer spoke for her, so I just took it at face value. No pun intended. Until I remembered that Sawyer is a guy. Maybe not like every other guy, but he’s still a guy and the type of guy he is kinda habitually underestimates certain females.
As Barbara and I filled their water containers – Sawyer’s hint at the value of clean drinking water let me know this was a barter for something so I played my part – we found out that Amy Groff met Sawyer and Huely as they were in the mechanics pool, and she was frequently around to check out a vehicle.
“Met him the first time at a dance. Sawyer is a great dancer.”
This wasn’t the first little dig I’d heard in her words but this time it was noticeable to Barbara who said, “I take it attendance was mandatory.”
“How did you …?" She was startled telling me she wasn't near as smart as she's been led to believe. To cover her verbal blunder she added, "Uh, well, some people had to be prodded to attend, but we all wound up having a really good time.”
She tried a few more salvos to feel me out and see if I’d fall for what she was selling but Barbara was there and interfered enough that “Groff” as the other men called her, had to back off and then get gone. Barbara went so far as to put our postcards in the mailbox herself rather than hand them to Groff. She also called her an unflattering word, but I didn't say anything since I believe in the Freedom of Speech. Not to mention Barbara is more than good at giving as good as she got and I'm not averse to having friends like that.
After they pulled out … they’d really only been there about forty-five minutes … Burt finally stuck his head out.
“Wow. What’s in them big boxes?”
Barbara looked like she wanted to talk but it would have to wait. I told Burt, “Don’t know. Let’s see about dragging them in so we can find out. Run and get the dolly from the barn.”
# # # # #
Burt went off to do some of his outside chores with a kick in his step. He understood what the venison and the contents of the crates meant for us. I thought Barbara had let the rest go but as soon as Burt was off the porch she turned to me and said, “Don’t listen to what that ... that female ... said.”
I snorted. “Way ahead of you,” I told her. “I figured her out fairly quickly. Did you read the note I sent Sawyer?”
“I wouldn’t read your mail.”
I wanted to roll my eyes but didn’t. “It is going to be read by a bunch of people, you’d be the last one that it would bother me if you did.” She looked at me with a lift of her eyebrow. “I said she reminded me of Lisa.”
It only took a second for Barbara to chuckle. “That’ll do it. Hopefully he and Huely will get the hint.” She finally slid into a chair and put her face in her hands. “They’re all right. They’re really all right and together and they let us know themselves.”
We took a few minutes to pull ourselves together, but we were honestly both just too tired to let loose as much as we could have. Just seeing Sawyer’s horrible handwriting was a comfort, his words even more so. Unfortunately all it did was make me crave more from him and that didn't seem to be happening any time soon and I need to use some sense. We needed to get the contents of the crates put away as soon as possible. No telling if the inspectors would be out or not.
Chapter 117 (Part 2)
First off there were ten big boxes, crates really, about the size toilet paper used to come in at the grocery store before it was stocked on the shelves. I know those kinds of boxes because the Brensers used them to pack up old Mrs. Brenser’s stuff after she passed away. Inside each crwate was a bunch of items that looked like they’d come out of a scratch-n-dent store. It was packed tightly but still all higgledy-piggledy so that not a lot of it made sense until each item was taken out individually, maybe like they were originally auction lots or something. Every box and can in each crate had a dent or some type of damage. There was a lot of tape on some of the boxes and bags to keep things from falling out of them.
There were several different brands of the same type of item and some of them just had white labels with black printing barely identifying what was inside. Several items were things I hadn’t seen in a while, and others made me shrug about how or why they had been included. Boxes of mac-n-cheese, smooshed boxes of snack crackers. Oats, granola/protein bars, shelf-stable milk, powdered milk and powdered eggs, a big bag of prunes (these made Barbara laugh), popcorn kernels for popping, powdered bouillon, dried pastas, tomato powder, rice, dried beans, dried onions and dried garlic, a ginormous tub of peanut butter, boxes of raisins, sports drink powders, raw sugar that was a deep caramel color. Salt, pepper, a couple logs of pepperoni, cans of off-brand beanee weenees, boxes of jello and pudding mix, some small cans of meat like tuna, salmon, beef in gravy, and canned chicken. There was a bit of canned fruit but not a lot but I was happy to see the canned pineapple and canned mandarin oranges. There were two large blocks of processed cheese wrapped in foil and stuffed inside cardboard boxes similar to the old velveeta brand. A couple boxes of cream of wheat, some baking mixes, several cans of gravy, and a weird assortment of spices and seasonings, and a great big shaker of fake bacon bits.
In the bottom of one of the crates we found what we think are meant to be supplies for Burt, Jolene, and Barbara’s baby when it gets here. There were cloth diapers, canned goats’ milk, liquid vitamins for infants, chewy vitamins for kids Jolene’s age, and vitamins for teens which I presume are for Burt. There was a huge bottle of prenatal vitamins which I’m treating like gold and making sure that Barbara is going to take after she’s done with morning puking sessions. She says just looking at those horse pills make her heave and I told her I’d grind them up and mix them with some peanut butter like I do Harley and Davy’s worm pills if that’s what it takes. She was outraged for about five seconds before she realized I was trying to get her to laugh. What she don’t know is that I’m serious. One way or the other she’s taking those vitamins.
In that same crate was a two-gallon jug of cooking oil, a bucket of lard, and ten pounds of flour and the same of cornmeal. I’ll continue rationing what we have stored down in the basement but for sure everything in those crates is going to help out.
One of the crates had both Barbara and I scratching our heads. It was full of MREs. But the MREs were from different countries with NATO stamped over the top of the country of origin. Most of them were from Canada. The other countries were France, Germany, the UK, Italy, the USA, and then some civilian type MREs that looked like something the Red Cross would hand out after a disaster of some type. We both agreed that those were going to be stored in the furthest reaches of the root cellar that we have set up a sleeping area for Burt and Jolene. Some of those MRE things are self-heating and that means we don't have to worry so much about Burt missing a meal if he is stuck down there overnight or longer for safety reasons. Barbara eventually just shrugged it off, but it has got me to thinking worrisome thoughts.
What was added to the sum of those thoughts was while I was out in the yard foraging for another batch of green broth another truck of “army men” pulled in. I was carrying Jolene to give Burt a chance to lay down as the boy is as tired as we are, and he’d just finished helping to cart the latest jars down below the kitchen and gathering the last of the tree trash and piling it in the side yard until one of us could chop it into lengths to use in the make-do rocket stove Sawyer and Huely had built the last time they were home. Apparently, they are as common as working stove tops once were, and not having one makes you stand out as you might have other resources you are keeping hidden making you a target of the covetous or greedy.
Barbara who was on the porch taking a break as bending up and down can bring on the pukes unexpectedly, made to get up but the man who stepped down from the truck motioned for her to stay put.
“Ma’am, are you Kay-Lee Hartford?”
I got his attention wondering for a moment why I’d suddenly gotten so popular. “I am. May I help you?”
He blinked, having picked the wrong woman but I’ll give him points for not making a face at the fact that I’m “crippled.” He cleared his throat politely then said, “Actually ma’am I need a deposition. That’s a …”
“Not to be rude but I know what a deposition is. I’m more concerned with why you need one from me.”
He tried not to look like he doubted my intelligence and then continued with his questioning, “How many assistance boxes have you received from the county?”
“Just the one … well it was three boxes, but it was one delivery.”
Getting a forbidding look on his face and then looking at a man who was growing pale that was sitting in what amounted to being “under guard” he asked for the date we received them and then what had been the contents. “It was a box for kids since we’ve a pre-teen and a baby, a box meant for someone pregnant as you can see we have one of those as well, and then what I suppose was a box of regular stuff though it was stuff in white packaging and black lettering like commodities. I have the packing slips if you need them.”
“You still have the packing slips?” he asked in surprise.
Wondering if he was being dense on purpose I answered, “Yes Sir. It says on the bottom of the page in small print to ‘retain for tax purposes’ and that’s what I’ve done.”
In more than mild approval he nodded, and I could hear a kitchen drawer and then a fast trot and Burt running the folder I’ve been keeping similar things in such as the inspection papers from the CI. Burt was all but standing in front of me when I grabbed him by the suspenders I’d rigged to keep his pants up with and pulled him back while giving him the eye.
The man smiled though and nodded at him. “Good job Son. Think you can help take these boxes up to the porch? My men aren’t permitted to step into people’s houses and porches are close enough that I’m sure none of us want trouble.”
He glanced at me and before I gave permission, getting Burt another approving look from the man, I asked, “I’m … a little concerned if you need to know. What are those boxes going to cost us?”
Another man, this one in a suit and overcoat, stepped away from the truck with his nose stuck to a clipboard and said, “Nothing. After a review, some … irregularities … were discovered and apparently this household and a couple of others here on what is colloquially knows as The Ridge were … overlooked … on assistance deliveries. There are things in the earlier deliveries that are no longer available due to scarcity but you are otherwise being brought up to mark. I’ll need you to sign here and the young man can run the additional form up to the verandah for the other lady’s signature. I presume she is Barbara Hartford?” At my nod he added, “I must also impress on you that while this may seem like a largesse at this time, you are still restricted from trading or bartering with these items. I’ll also need both of you to sign the agreement at the very bottom of the delivery slip. On the back of your copy is a schedule of future deliveries but they will have to be received at the end of your drive from here on out. As Mr. Robroy intimated, there are strict protocols on our access to civilian properties.”
Uh huh. Something wasn’t adding up. But I was not in a position to look a gift horse in the mouth … or cut my nose off to spite my face by refusing to accept those boxes just out of some snit. And there were not just a few of them either.
Burt said, “Just a sec Sir. I’ll get the wheelbarrow. I patched the tire this morning so hopefully it isn’t flat again.”
You could tell that a couple of the men that were in the group were trying not to grin at Burt’s eager “helpfulness” but it wasn’t a bad thing. Better than the looks some of them got on their faces when they figured out I wasn’t pulling weeds to neaten the flower beds up but to eat them. Sympathy was one thing, but my pride was pinched at the look of pity a couple of them had.
When the boxes – three for every week that we’d been “overlooked” – had made it to the porch, the suit-man then called me over and handed me a large canvas tote. “As I stated, some of the items that came in the earlier assistance packages are no longer available, coffee being one of them. I’ve made some substitutions where possible and I would take what is in this tote and secure it.”
“Do you need the tote back?” I asked politely.
The man was momentarily surprised then said, “That would be appreciated.”
“What about the boxes? I can use a box cutter I have in the kitchen. What little news we've gotten mentions that recycling is extremely important.”
Finally cracking a smile the man said, “Yes. Someone finally grasps the issues.”
Barbara and Burt made quick work of emptying things in the kitchen then brought the boxes to me and I broke them down neatly while someone else would take them from me and lay them flat in the back of the transport. The man under guard reminded me of someone and I nearly asked when I realized he'd been a teacher at the high school, one I'd never had as he'd taught AP English on the "normal" side of the school.
Barbara’s and Burt’s eyes kept getting bigger each time they brought an empty box out so I knew something was going on. And her hand was shaking when she handed me the neatly folded tote. It made me nervous.
To be “friendly” and hoping to maybe eek out a little bit more information on what was really going on, when I saw a couple of the men pull out water bottles only to take the last swig, I offered to have Burt fill a pitcher from the hand pump and refill everyone’s container. Sawyer’s comment about the value of drinking water was still floating around in my head.
Mr. Robroy, who I took to be more “in charge” than the suit-man despite the other perhaps having greater authority, had a regretful tone to his voice when he said, “It is against the rules to impose.”
I snorted. “I offered so that means you aren’t imposing. And it might be a cool day, but you all still worked up a sweat. The Chief Inspector himself keeps the pump tested and certified by taking off several tubs of water on a regular basis for samples.”
The suit-man asked casually, “He does? Hmmm.” He made a note on another sheet of paper on his clip board, gave a glance at the former teacher who looked even more scared and trying not to show it. Suit-man then asked, “He was out here for monthly inspections?”
“The CI is out here this way at least weekly taking samples of what the harvesters were doing, soil samples, water samples, even samples of the animals they culled and the wood and hay pile for contaminants. Well, I take that back, I haven’t seen him out this way for a couple of weeks, not since they took the last of the apples, but he was sending representatives to monitor things.”
The man may have thought himself to be Sherlock Holmes, but he was more transparent than he thought because I could read the gleam in his eyes like he’d shouted, “Gotcha Moriarty!”
They finally left, me with more clues if not much wiser, and I turned to Barbara and asked, “What has Burt’s eyes big as silver dollars?”
First off there were ten big boxes, crates really, about the size toilet paper used to come in at the grocery store before it was stocked on the shelves. I know those kinds of boxes because the Brensers used them to pack up old Mrs. Brenser’s stuff after she passed away. Inside each crwate was a bunch of items that looked like they’d come out of a scratch-n-dent store. It was packed tightly but still all higgledy-piggledy so that not a lot of it made sense until each item was taken out individually, maybe like they were originally auction lots or something. Every box and can in each crate had a dent or some type of damage. There was a lot of tape on some of the boxes and bags to keep things from falling out of them.
There were several different brands of the same type of item and some of them just had white labels with black printing barely identifying what was inside. Several items were things I hadn’t seen in a while, and others made me shrug about how or why they had been included. Boxes of mac-n-cheese, smooshed boxes of snack crackers. Oats, granola/protein bars, shelf-stable milk, powdered milk and powdered eggs, a big bag of prunes (these made Barbara laugh), popcorn kernels for popping, powdered bouillon, dried pastas, tomato powder, rice, dried beans, dried onions and dried garlic, a ginormous tub of peanut butter, boxes of raisins, sports drink powders, raw sugar that was a deep caramel color. Salt, pepper, a couple logs of pepperoni, cans of off-brand beanee weenees, boxes of jello and pudding mix, some small cans of meat like tuna, salmon, beef in gravy, and canned chicken. There was a bit of canned fruit but not a lot but I was happy to see the canned pineapple and canned mandarin oranges. There were two large blocks of processed cheese wrapped in foil and stuffed inside cardboard boxes similar to the old velveeta brand. A couple boxes of cream of wheat, some baking mixes, several cans of gravy, and a weird assortment of spices and seasonings, and a great big shaker of fake bacon bits.
In the bottom of one of the crates we found what we think are meant to be supplies for Burt, Jolene, and Barbara’s baby when it gets here. There were cloth diapers, canned goats’ milk, liquid vitamins for infants, chewy vitamins for kids Jolene’s age, and vitamins for teens which I presume are for Burt. There was a huge bottle of prenatal vitamins which I’m treating like gold and making sure that Barbara is going to take after she’s done with morning puking sessions. She says just looking at those horse pills make her heave and I told her I’d grind them up and mix them with some peanut butter like I do Harley and Davy’s worm pills if that’s what it takes. She was outraged for about five seconds before she realized I was trying to get her to laugh. What she don’t know is that I’m serious. One way or the other she’s taking those vitamins.
In that same crate was a two-gallon jug of cooking oil, a bucket of lard, and ten pounds of flour and the same of cornmeal. I’ll continue rationing what we have stored down in the basement but for sure everything in those crates is going to help out.
One of the crates had both Barbara and I scratching our heads. It was full of MREs. But the MREs were from different countries with NATO stamped over the top of the country of origin. Most of them were from Canada. The other countries were France, Germany, the UK, Italy, the USA, and then some civilian type MREs that looked like something the Red Cross would hand out after a disaster of some type. We both agreed that those were going to be stored in the furthest reaches of the root cellar that we have set up a sleeping area for Burt and Jolene. Some of those MRE things are self-heating and that means we don't have to worry so much about Burt missing a meal if he is stuck down there overnight or longer for safety reasons. Barbara eventually just shrugged it off, but it has got me to thinking worrisome thoughts.
What was added to the sum of those thoughts was while I was out in the yard foraging for another batch of green broth another truck of “army men” pulled in. I was carrying Jolene to give Burt a chance to lay down as the boy is as tired as we are, and he’d just finished helping to cart the latest jars down below the kitchen and gathering the last of the tree trash and piling it in the side yard until one of us could chop it into lengths to use in the make-do rocket stove Sawyer and Huely had built the last time they were home. Apparently, they are as common as working stove tops once were, and not having one makes you stand out as you might have other resources you are keeping hidden making you a target of the covetous or greedy.
Barbara who was on the porch taking a break as bending up and down can bring on the pukes unexpectedly, made to get up but the man who stepped down from the truck motioned for her to stay put.
“Ma’am, are you Kay-Lee Hartford?”
I got his attention wondering for a moment why I’d suddenly gotten so popular. “I am. May I help you?”
He blinked, having picked the wrong woman but I’ll give him points for not making a face at the fact that I’m “crippled.” He cleared his throat politely then said, “Actually ma’am I need a deposition. That’s a …”
“Not to be rude but I know what a deposition is. I’m more concerned with why you need one from me.”
He tried not to look like he doubted my intelligence and then continued with his questioning, “How many assistance boxes have you received from the county?”
“Just the one … well it was three boxes, but it was one delivery.”
Getting a forbidding look on his face and then looking at a man who was growing pale that was sitting in what amounted to being “under guard” he asked for the date we received them and then what had been the contents. “It was a box for kids since we’ve a pre-teen and a baby, a box meant for someone pregnant as you can see we have one of those as well, and then what I suppose was a box of regular stuff though it was stuff in white packaging and black lettering like commodities. I have the packing slips if you need them.”
“You still have the packing slips?” he asked in surprise.
Wondering if he was being dense on purpose I answered, “Yes Sir. It says on the bottom of the page in small print to ‘retain for tax purposes’ and that’s what I’ve done.”
In more than mild approval he nodded, and I could hear a kitchen drawer and then a fast trot and Burt running the folder I’ve been keeping similar things in such as the inspection papers from the CI. Burt was all but standing in front of me when I grabbed him by the suspenders I’d rigged to keep his pants up with and pulled him back while giving him the eye.
The man smiled though and nodded at him. “Good job Son. Think you can help take these boxes up to the porch? My men aren’t permitted to step into people’s houses and porches are close enough that I’m sure none of us want trouble.”
He glanced at me and before I gave permission, getting Burt another approving look from the man, I asked, “I’m … a little concerned if you need to know. What are those boxes going to cost us?”
Another man, this one in a suit and overcoat, stepped away from the truck with his nose stuck to a clipboard and said, “Nothing. After a review, some … irregularities … were discovered and apparently this household and a couple of others here on what is colloquially knows as The Ridge were … overlooked … on assistance deliveries. There are things in the earlier deliveries that are no longer available due to scarcity but you are otherwise being brought up to mark. I’ll need you to sign here and the young man can run the additional form up to the verandah for the other lady’s signature. I presume she is Barbara Hartford?” At my nod he added, “I must also impress on you that while this may seem like a largesse at this time, you are still restricted from trading or bartering with these items. I’ll also need both of you to sign the agreement at the very bottom of the delivery slip. On the back of your copy is a schedule of future deliveries but they will have to be received at the end of your drive from here on out. As Mr. Robroy intimated, there are strict protocols on our access to civilian properties.”
Uh huh. Something wasn’t adding up. But I was not in a position to look a gift horse in the mouth … or cut my nose off to spite my face by refusing to accept those boxes just out of some snit. And there were not just a few of them either.
Burt said, “Just a sec Sir. I’ll get the wheelbarrow. I patched the tire this morning so hopefully it isn’t flat again.”
You could tell that a couple of the men that were in the group were trying not to grin at Burt’s eager “helpfulness” but it wasn’t a bad thing. Better than the looks some of them got on their faces when they figured out I wasn’t pulling weeds to neaten the flower beds up but to eat them. Sympathy was one thing, but my pride was pinched at the look of pity a couple of them had.
When the boxes – three for every week that we’d been “overlooked” – had made it to the porch, the suit-man then called me over and handed me a large canvas tote. “As I stated, some of the items that came in the earlier assistance packages are no longer available, coffee being one of them. I’ve made some substitutions where possible and I would take what is in this tote and secure it.”
“Do you need the tote back?” I asked politely.
The man was momentarily surprised then said, “That would be appreciated.”
“What about the boxes? I can use a box cutter I have in the kitchen. What little news we've gotten mentions that recycling is extremely important.”
Finally cracking a smile the man said, “Yes. Someone finally grasps the issues.”
Barbara and Burt made quick work of emptying things in the kitchen then brought the boxes to me and I broke them down neatly while someone else would take them from me and lay them flat in the back of the transport. The man under guard reminded me of someone and I nearly asked when I realized he'd been a teacher at the high school, one I'd never had as he'd taught AP English on the "normal" side of the school.
Barbara’s and Burt’s eyes kept getting bigger each time they brought an empty box out so I knew something was going on. And her hand was shaking when she handed me the neatly folded tote. It made me nervous.
To be “friendly” and hoping to maybe eek out a little bit more information on what was really going on, when I saw a couple of the men pull out water bottles only to take the last swig, I offered to have Burt fill a pitcher from the hand pump and refill everyone’s container. Sawyer’s comment about the value of drinking water was still floating around in my head.
Mr. Robroy, who I took to be more “in charge” than the suit-man despite the other perhaps having greater authority, had a regretful tone to his voice when he said, “It is against the rules to impose.”
I snorted. “I offered so that means you aren’t imposing. And it might be a cool day, but you all still worked up a sweat. The Chief Inspector himself keeps the pump tested and certified by taking off several tubs of water on a regular basis for samples.”
The suit-man asked casually, “He does? Hmmm.” He made a note on another sheet of paper on his clip board, gave a glance at the former teacher who looked even more scared and trying not to show it. Suit-man then asked, “He was out here for monthly inspections?”
“The CI is out here this way at least weekly taking samples of what the harvesters were doing, soil samples, water samples, even samples of the animals they culled and the wood and hay pile for contaminants. Well, I take that back, I haven’t seen him out this way for a couple of weeks, not since they took the last of the apples, but he was sending representatives to monitor things.”
The man may have thought himself to be Sherlock Holmes, but he was more transparent than he thought because I could read the gleam in his eyes like he’d shouted, “Gotcha Moriarty!”
They finally left, me with more clues if not much wiser, and I turned to Barbara and asked, “What has Burt’s eyes big as silver dollars?”
Funny thing, laast night I got so desperate that I reread all the newer parts of "Up on Hartford Ridge". Then this morning here is this wonderful gift! I was thinking last night- 'how is Kathy going to solve this nasty situation?', and now here come boxes of solutions! thank you!
Dumb Blonde
Contributing Member
Woohoo! Someone just got thrown under the bus!
beaglemama
Contributing Member
Glad to have you back and that you're recovered enough from the wedding to be writing again, Kathy! Thank you!
Jeepcats27
Senior Member
Thank you for the new chapters!!!!!
