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He was already wearing his boots and two pairs of wool socks, plastic Ziploc bags wrapped between the layers to keep his feet dry.
She rummaged around in a cabinet beneath the bathroom sink and pulled out a bottle of baby powder. Quinn glared at it like it might bite her. “What’s that for?” “Rub it on your scalp. It’s like dry shampoo. It will help the itching to go away in between hair washes.”
Mix baking soda, water, and a few drops of lavender essential oil in an empty shampoo bottle and shake to make a paste, and there you go. Homemade shampoo.”
There had to be ten pounds of baking soda stored in Gran’s secret storage room hidden in the basement. Maybe more. “It’s got a three-year shelf life and works great for dozens of uses other than baking. It provides relief for bug bites, rashes, inflammation, and itching. You can make mouthwash or mix it with cornstarch for deodorant. It’s as close to a miracle product as we’re going to get.”
“The consolidation of power in the guise of public safety. It’s an age-old game that’s been played a thousand times throughout time on government stages large and small. The erosion of our rights is the slow death of freedom. We’re the frogs basking in the warm pan bath while the water boils us to death, and some of us don’t even realize it.”
“We honor civil authority wherever possible, to the point where such authority abuses the people it is set up to protect. Where the government threatens freedom and violates those God-given rights, we have a duty to resist.”
“These plants are called Lamb’s ear,” Quinn explained. “They have soft, absorbent leaves that are big and broad. They’re edible and medicinal. They can be used as bandages and have anti-bacterial properties. They’re best known as a good toilet paper alternative. Mullein works great, too, with its larger leaves.”
“Lamb’s ear can be grown indoors in small pots in winter, too. Once you dry them flat, you put them in a jar or Ziploc baggie to use whenever you need it.”
Once he got inside, he’d administer first aid with his IFAK—individual first aid kit—in his go-bag.
Always pay attention to your surroundings. It’s called situational awareness.”
“You just add a cup of ice melt salt, like what they use on roads and sidewalks. But make sure it has the calcium chloride stuff in it.” He poured the salt into the sandwich bag, then picked up the smaller baggie. “Add half a cup of water to this one and push out all the air bubbles, then seal it.” Milo had put the water bag inside the larger ice salt bag and sealed it.
A few kernels of canned corn threaded onto the hook could lure trout, perch, carp, and bluegill into biting. Gummy worms and marshmallows also worked for bluegill.
The recommended thickness to walk on ice safely was four inches.
‘What has the Lord required of you but to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.’”
Molly had given him a spray bottle filled with three parts vinegar to one-part water to spray on his windshield the night before snow to de-ice it—at least the truck windows were nice and clear.
Nothing that truly mattered in life came easily. That was as true before the collapse as after. Nothing was owed to you. Nothing. Not love. Not freedom. Not even family. Relationships weren’t a given. They weren’t a right. They were made. They were forged through blood, sweat, and tears. Through time, energy, and commitment. Through good times and bad, through hope and despair. Love had to be earned. So did freedom. Sometimes it had to be earned again and again. If you weren’t careful, it slipped right through your fingers.
