Grapes are all in. I didn’t get near as many as I remember Papa and Daddy getting but I guess it has been too many years since anyone took care of the vines the right way. Same for the fruit trees. I get some fruit, but not near what I remember being on the trees when I was a child.
When I was a child. I look at the calendar and know it really hasn’t been all that long ago. I look in my heart and it feels like it’s been a millennia.
I’m changing. I’m being forced to change. To what purpose I don’t know yet. I hear doors closing. Sometimes they slam shut so loud I’m surprised no one else can hear my mind snapping. Sometimes they close so slow and quietly its days before I realize what has happened.
They’ve made it harder for people to get cash out of the banks … or to cash their checks. They want everything done electronically. It’s like they are trying to do away with paper money at the very time when people only seem to want hard currency in hand for every transaction. Some stores are now required to track cash transactions. I no longer go to those stores except when I need to use my debit card to make it look like my money is going someplace the government expects it to. I really don’t know what I will do if Daniel’s benefits stop.
I’ve looked all over for Feena’s special formula but there’s none to be had, not even at the clinic where I was getting it know when they will get more in; everything is on backorder everywhere you look. We’ve tried her on a couple other formulas but they make her sick as a dog and she throws up for two days. She’s nowhere near old enough to try regular milk yet and piecing out what formula I do have left won’t work much longer.
Dorrie’s gran gave me a recipe for homemade formula that uses goat milk that she got from one of the older ladies at church. I’m willing to admit I’m grasping at straws now but it’s all I can do. She’s eating a little table food as long as it is ground very finely but she still gets the majority of her nutrition from formula. If the goat’s milk recipe doesn’t work I’ll have no choice but to try the black market. It’s dangerous and with Cal being a cop not the smartest thing in the world. Quality can be a problem too from what I hear. But what am I supposed to do? Let my daughter starve because the government is a cruel joke that can’t tell the difference between their butt and a hole in the ground?!