The dark networks preying on your children. They are demonic and their ultimate goal is to destroy everything good about our civilization. They want chaos and societal collapse. The 764 is a Satanic pedophilia cult on the Internet and it is one of many. It’s an extortion group after they convince your child to do […] The post Dark Networks Preying on Your Children appeared first on www.independentsentinel.com.

This month marks a bleak anniversary for American families — and a perfect illustration of the cost of Joe Biden’s failures. It was just three years ago, in June of 2022, when gas prices in the United States hit their highest level in history, topping $5.00 per gallon. That’s back when the Biden White House tried to make you believe this was all just an unavoidable consequence of global events. While they were trying to spin “Putin’s Price Hike,” the data told a far more damning story: gas prices started climbing immediately after Joe Biden took office. From his first day, President Biden declared war on American energy. He canceled pipelines, froze leases, threatened regulations, and proudly signaled to the world that under his administration, fossil fuels were enemy number one. Predictably, markets responded. American oil production stalled. Investment dried up. Prices began their climb long before Vladimir Putin moved a single tank. By the time Russia invaded Ukraine, Biden’s energy mismanagement had already paved the way for a full-blown price crisis. Remember: In early 2022, the Biden Administration’s response to Americans struggling with high gas prices was to simply buy an electric car. As the 2022 midterms approached, Biden faced the political fallout of his own policies. In response, he didn’t encourage production or unleash American drillers. Instead, he reached for the most cynical tool at his disposal: the Strategic Petroleum Reserve (SPR), America’s emergency oil stockpile. Designed to be used in times of true national crisis — war, natural disaster, or supply collapse — the SPR was never intended to bail out failing politicians. But that’s exactly what Biden used it for. To try and save his party as midterm elections loomed in 2022, the president opened the spigot and drained nearly 200 million barrels from the SPR, the largest release in American history. He wasn’t trying to fix supply chains or repair his broken energy policy. He was trying to fix polling numbers. Samuel Corum/Bloomberg via Getty Images In fact, Biden didn’t even bother pretending otherwise. His own White House press releases framed the SPR release as a response to “Putin’s price hike” — ignoring, of course, that prices were already surging well before Russian troops crossed the border. And the timing? Pure politics. As the 2022 midterms approached and Democrats faced the real prospect of losing control of Congress, the White House scrambled to ease prices at the pump in a transparent bid to soften voter anger. The political gamesmanship went even further behind the scenes. In October 2022, as OPEC considered production cuts that would have sent prices soaring once again, Biden administration officials secretly begged Saudi Arabia to delay their cuts until after the election. Not reverse the cuts — just delay them long enough to avoid embarrassing headlines before voters went to the polls. The Saudis publicly confirmed the request. The Biden team was never trying to protect American drivers; they were trying to protect Democratic incumbents. Today, America is paying the price for Biden’s short-term political fix. As war rages in the Middle East — this time with conflict escalating between Israel and Iran — the world sits on the edge of another energy shock. But our emergency reserve, which once held over 700 million barrels, is now dangerously depleted. According to the latest government data, the SPR sits at just over 400 million barrels — barely more than half full. That’s the lowest level in decades. And thanks to Biden’s manipulation, we’re entering this dangerous period with far less of a safety net. The Strategic Petroleum Reserve was created to give America breathing room during times of global chaos. Joe Biden used it as a campaign slush fund. He drained it to temporarily hide the consequences of his anti-American energy agenda, hoping voters wouldn’t notice the long-term damage. Now, as the world grows more unstable, America is weaker, more exposed, and less prepared — all because one president thought his poll numbers mattered more than the nation’s energy security. Joe Biden mortgaged America’s oil security and Left our strategic gas tank dangerously low. The recklessness is breathtaking. No wonder it’s an anniversary the Left would rather forget. * * * Larry Behrens is the Communications Director for Power The Future and is the author of the book, “Sabotage: How Joe Biden Surrendered American Energy Independence.” He’s also appeared on Fox News, Newsmax and One America News. You can find him on Twitter at @larrybehrens or email at larry@powerthefuture.com. The views expressed in this piece are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The Daily Wire.

Joni Mitchell’s journey began in the Canadian prairie town of Fort Macleod, Alberta, where she spent her formative years absorbing the stark beauty and isolation of rural life. Her childhood battles with polio at the age of nine cultivated her resilience, providing the strength that would echo throughout her lyrics and musical ethos. This early challenge informed much of her later introspective work, manifesting in themes of perseverance and self-discovery that resonated deeply with audiences. Mitchell’s artistic instincts first blossomed through painting, an interest she nurtured before music became her primary expression. This visual artistry eventually intertwined beautifully with her The post Complete List Of Joni Mitchell Songs From A to Z appeared first on ClassicRockHistory.com.

By the Author of Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica Find the previous chapter here. Dear Diary, It’s me, Jessica. It was a day later that we got word from City HAM Guy to our HAM Guy that the Nomads were on the move and heading East, our way.  We mobilized and deployed both our community and Four Corners militias to the barricade at the bridge.  The Nomads may have been on horseback, but with their flocks of livestock and wagons, they would be moving at a walking pace.  I guessed they would be at Four Corners in the late afternoon or early evening.  And not at the ready for a fight.  That suggested a non-confrontational meeting.  Or so I hoped.  Death and destruction are things I have come to deplore.  If they can be avoided, it is for the betterment of our little communities.   I was right about when the Nomads would arrive in the late afternoon of the day.  Through Jack’s monocular, lying atop the Chute, I could see they were setting up their camp on the far side of the bridge from Four Corners.  Tents, livestock paddocks set up, cooking fires going.  A small group of men and women slaughtered and butchered some of their livestock for that evening’s meal.  It was all done quickly and efficiently.  Jack would have been impressed.  I know I was.   Then three riders slowly came across the bridge on horseback, two men flanking a woman in the middle.  The men had semi-automatic rifles, the woman had a pistol on her hip.   I could hear others on top of the Western barrier quietly pass word to those below of the riders approaching.  Everyone got ready. They stopped just short of the chute, and the woman called out, “Aye!”   She had the same heavy Irish accent Sean had. “With whom may I speak?” Sean, lying next to me, looked surprised with raised eyebrows.  He then got up to his feet and called down to her. “Aye!  Be down in a moment!” To the rest of us atop the barricade, he said quietly, “Keep an eye out but remain calm.” A few moments later, Sean walked through the Chute and up to the riders.  The woman dismounted from her horse, handed the reins to one of the men, and walked up to Sean. She wore a white cowboy hat.  Had braided bright red hair over one shoulder.  A light blue long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves rolled partway up, leather chaps, cowboy boots.  She removed her leather gloves and offered her hand to Sean.  The men had different colored cowboy hats and their shirts were different colors but otherwise were dressed the same.   Based on all of Jack’s instructions on watching people, they all seemed relaxed.  She nodded and smiled a few times.  Sean even laughed once.  After a few more minutes, she smiled again and they shook hands again.  She got back on her horse, and the three of them trotted back to the other side of the bridge.  Sean turned and looked up, “All clear!  No worries!” We all climbed down from the barricade as Sean emerged from the Chute as everyone gathered around to hear him. “It was like Jamal said, they are Nomads, just passing through and looking to trade.  While I feel we can trust them, we will still post guards overnight.  Three shifts, like usual.” A sigh of relief went through the crowd as the idea of another fight seemed to have been avoided.   Diary, I shared with them in that relief. Entry two When Jack heard the news, he did his usual thinking eyes, then nodded at Sean’s reading of the situation and plan to post guards overnight.  Jack guessed they would set up guards overnight.  But as Nomads, that could be the natural way of life for them.  He looked better, But still not up to getting out of bed. I volunteered for the last shift just before dawn.  As I took my post atop the barricade, dawn was still a good hour or so away, but pre-dawn twilight would start in about half an hour.  I listened to the sound of the river rushing below.  Crickets in the night.  Behind me, in his shack, I thought I could hear Sean snoring every once in a while.   The sky to the East began to brighten.  After another fifteen minutes or so, I could clearly make out the bridge and even some parts of the other side. The people of Four Corners began to stir and awaken.  Cooking fires were being lit, and others were setting up for the day’s business.   On the other side of the bridge, I could see the Nomads were starting their own cooking fires and moving around.  It struck me as funny how they, too, had a similar routine like Four Corners.  I wondered if it was like that in other communities.  The ones that remained.   The overcast sky made it difficult to tell when the sun had first broken the horizon to the East, signaling the end of our guard shift.  We gave it a few more minutes till we could clearly see everything around us.  As I climbed down, Sean was leaving his shack with a wooden bucket and ladle he would use to wash up with water he would get from the boat launch down Old River Road South.  He said I could use some of the water for me to wash up and to keep watch for him while he was gone, nodding over to the other side of the bridge.   “If they are anything like us, they will be over shortly and ready to trade.” “I could see them moving about and getting their cooking fires lit.” “Aye.  Well, you are the welcoming committee if they do.” Sean was right.  Not five minutes after he left to get water, the call went out that someone was coming across the bridge.  I went through the Chute to meet them. The red-headed man with the cowboy hat on foot was in the lead of about a dozen others, small pulling carts with small livestock in cages made from wood and chicken wire, and some shepherding medium-sized livestock. “Good morning.  I’m Katie,” she said, offering her hand as the group stopped before me.   “Good morning.  I’m Jessica,” I took her hand.  “Sean is out and appointed me to welcome you to Four Corners.”  Katie had bright green eyes and fair skin with freckles.  It was hard to tell her age, but she could have passed as Sean’s younger sister.   Katie thanked me as I lead them through the Chute.  She still had the handgun on her hip, but that was not unusual in Four Corners.  Nearly everyone was armed just out of habit.  I was to the point that if I did not have my rifle over my shoulder, I felt like I was missing a shoe or a sock. As we walked, Katie described what they were looking to trade for.  Most of what they were looking for was to the South, but they were also looking to diversify the bloodlines of some of their livestock.  As the others moved off to trade, I led Katie and a few of the others with the livestock to the Four Corners pens by the East gate.  “How did you become Nomads?” “Most of us were on a ranch to the Northwest.  When the power went out, a bunch of the ranch hands brought their families to the ranch.  I was the ranch manager.  Got a knack for management and logistics.  For the first year, things were okay.  Then, the drought set in.  After months of no rain, wells began to dry up.  I had to make a decision.  So, we took what we could, did our best with what we had, and started Eastward.  Been on the road, living out of a saddle for, oh, going on eight months now.” “Did you own the ranch?” “No.  Unfortunately, Chris and his wife, Susan, were on a Mediterranean cruise when the power went out.  I feared the worst for them.  They were good people, but as a doctor and a lawyer, they had soft hands if you take my meaning.” “I was once that way myself.  Till the power went out.” We arrived at the East gate pens.  I made introductions, and Katie’s group engaged with the members of Four Corners, who maintained the pens, and they talked about trading and bloodlines.   From their posts, Tom and Collins watched the activity behind them.  With no obvious threat coming from outside the East gate, they hopped down and walked up to us.  Just before they got within earshot, I whispered, “Katie, I am so sorry.” Katie looked puzzled, then Tom started in his awful fake English accent, “The hero of Four Corners graces us with her ever-so-lovely presence!  And lo!  Whom has she brought us?  An ever so fair maiden!”  Tom whipped off his ball cap and did one of his flourishing bows. Collins and I actually rolled our eyes at each other. Katie laughed.  Then she played into it but with her deep Irish accent, “Aye!” Even though she was not wearing a dress, she curtsied as if she were and bowed her head. “I thank thee, good sir, for your most gracious welcome!  You honor me and the hero of Four Corners with your ever-so-kind gesture!” “Is this really happening?” Collins deadpanned me. “Collins, chicken and biscuits make it stop.  Drive hot metal skewers into my ears!  Please!” For the next five minutes, Collins, those around us, and I had to endure Katie and Tom trying to one-up each other with flowery speech, flourishing bows and curtsies, and over-the-top compliments. Diary . . . chicken and biscuits! Entry three The first day’s trading went well, Katie and Tom’s cringeworthy exchange aside. The Nomads had a young woman who was very close to her due date and lost her mucus plug.  Daniel and Savannah went to their camp to evaluate and monitor the situation.  Not having anyone who had been formally trained in anything medical outside of CPR, Katie made the decision to stay camped across from Four Corners until the baby could be delivered and they could be assured both mother and child were well.   The poor woman was in labor for eighteen hours!  And with something called “back labor.”  I have no idea what that is, despite Savannah trying to explain it to me, but it sounded painful, and I always got the urge to cross my legs when I heard it.  They had the pregnant mother walk around to try to speed up the labor process, but it did not work.  They even joked about having her do jumping jacks to get the baby out.  (Author’s note: That was the actual birth of my daughter, eighteen hours of back labor, the walking, the jumping jack jokes, and all!  That’s right, kiddo, I am looking at you!) Once the mother was dilated and ready to push, Daniel had Savannah perform the delivery from start to end, and then instructed her on how to do postpartum care.  He wanted Savannah to have as much real-world experience as she could get.   As they waited for the baby to be delivered, Four Corners and the Nomads did a lot of trading.   On the morning the baby was finally delivered, we had something of a celebration dinner for both Four Corners and the Nomads.  Katie, Sean, Rae, and I were sitting around a fire, chatting, when Rae suggested Katie and her Nomads could settle just outside of our community.   Katie said she would consider it. Part four The next morning, Katie and two men came across the bridge on horseback, leading a string of two horses each.  Like with the livestock, they wanted to diversify their horse bloodlines.  I told them about the Millers who might be willing to trade to diversify their own bloodlines.  If not them, some of the farms further out might be willing to trade.  I offered to lead them to the Millers, but would need a horse to ride.  Katie agreed, sent one of the men back to get a saddled horse for me.  While we were waiting, I went to find Rae to tell her where I would be.  Rae was visiting Jack with Samson and the puppies.  Rae had to keep the dogs from jumping up on Jack; they were so excited to see him.  He tried not to laugh, as it hurt, but could not help a few chuckles.  I told them of the trade with Katie and the Millers when Rae mentioned that she suggested to Katie the possibility of the Nomads settling near our community.  With his thinking eyes, Jack said, “This could be a good thing for not only us but them.” Diary, I think Jack is right.   About 1stMarineJarHead 1stMarineJarHead 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. The post Dear Diary, It’s Me, Jessica: Chapter 13 (Book 2) appeared first on The Organic Prepper.

While federal agencies’ civil rights divisions under previous Republican administrations have primarily assumed a more defensive posture aimed at slowing down left-wing activity, the Trump administration is going on offense. “In prior Republican administrations, the focus has been to just slow down the bad things that the civil rights division was doing in a prior Democrat administration,” Assistant Attorney General Harmeet Dhillon told The Daily Signal. “That’s not our view at all.” “We’re definitely doing that,” Dhillon continued, “but we’re also focusing on using the civil rights laws for good.” The Justice Department is the lead agency for enforcing federal civil rights laws. Dhillon oversees its civil rights division, which enforces the Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances Act and laws dealing with voting rights; racial and sex discrimination; antisemitism; employment discrimination; veterans and disability rights; and more. She is employing a different strategy than some of her Republican predecessors. She isn’t just ending the weaponization of the DOJ that occurred under the Biden administration, she’s using the tools she says were abused by former Attorney General Merrick Garland to advance the civil rights of all Americans. “It’s incredible to see this colorblind, sex-blind enforcement of the law,” she said. For instance, the DOJ’s civil rights division announced a half million-dollar settlement on behalf of military service members who received unlawful termination charges from their cell phone carriers. “Some of the cases we do aren’t political at all,” she said. “They’re just advancing the civil rights of Americans, and so it’s really exciting to be able to do that as your day job.” Rather than debilitating the civil rights division, Dhillon is beefing it up by hiring lawyers “who are going to pursue the priorities of this administration.” “It is a fundamental difference of opinion between us and the prior administration that we believe the civil rights laws apply to all Americans,” Dhillon said, “and the United States Supreme Court’s precedents are increasingly rolling in and proving our point before the recent Supreme Court decision that said that majority plaintiffs in employment discrimination don’t have a higher burden of proof than minority plaintiffs.” She was referring to the recent high court decision that struck down a practice by some lower courts requiring a higher burden of proof for those in so-called majority groups (white people, etc.) when trying to prove they were discriminated against in employment decisions. “We need good men and women to join us to help enforce federal civil rights law,” Dhillon said. The post How the Trump Administration Is Making Civil Rights Enforcement Great Again appeared first on The Daily Signal.

If you're tired of censorship and dystopian threats against civil liberties, subscribe to Reclaim The Net. Efforts to impose strict age checks on social media are intensifying across Europe. A coalition of EU governments is now pushing for mandatory age verification rules that could force millions of people to link their internet use to real-world ID systems, raising serious concerns for privacy advocates. Eleven EU member states are pressing the European Commission to rewrite its guidance under the Digital Services Act to mandate age checks for social media platforms. The countries backing this push include France, Ireland, Greece, and Austria, many of which have already launched national initiatives to regulate youth access to digital services. But what’s being sold as a child-protection measure is, in practice, a significant expansion of digital identity demands. In a letter submitted to the Commission, the governments argue that social media presents enough risk to warrant compulsory age verification. “The well-documented presence of minors on social networks should be considered a sufficiently high-risk factor to require age verification as the only method of age assurance,” the statement reads. We obtained a copy of the letter for you here. This framing implicitly excludes more privacy-conscious approaches and advances a model where online access is conditional on real-world identification. Several of the letter’s signatories have already moved in this direction. The European Commission’s draft guidelines, released in May, stop short of requiring hard ID for social media. nstead, they classify these platforms as lower risk compared to pornographic or gambling websites and permit the use of facial age estimation technologies. That risk-based model has sparked pushback, not just from member states seeking stronger controls, but from those concerned that privacy-preserving alternatives are being marginalized. Privacy defenders are asking what happens when those “clear guidelines” become the basis for turning everyday online interaction into an identity-verified activity. And many in the age verification industry itself are raising alarms; not because they oppose regulation, but because the current policy approach risks entrenching only one type of solution: real-ID checks. If you're tired of censorship and dystopian threats against civil liberties, subscribe to Reclaim The Net. The post EU Member States Push European Commission to Mandate Digital ID Age Verification For Social Media appeared first on Reclaim The Net.

By the Author of Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica Find the previous chapter here. Dear Diary, It’s me, Jessica. It was a day later that we got word from City HAM Guy to our HAM Guy that the Nomads were on the move and heading East, our way.  We mobilized and deployed both our community and Four Corners militias to the barricade at the bridge.  The Nomads may have been on horseback, but with their flocks of livestock and wagons, they would be moving at a walking pace.  I guessed they would be at Four Corners in the late afternoon or early evening.  And not at the ready for a fight.  That suggested a non-confrontational meeting.  Or so I hoped.  Death and destruction are things I have come to deplore.  If they can be avoided, it is for the betterment of our little communities.   I was right about when the Nomads would arrive in the late afternoon of the day.  Through Jack’s monocular, lying atop the Chute, I could see they were setting up their camp on the far side of the bridge from Four Corners.  Tents, livestock paddocks set up, cooking fires going.  A small group of men and women slaughtered and butchered some of their livestock for that evening’s meal.  It was all done quickly and efficiently.  Jack would have been impressed.  I know I was.   Then three riders slowly came across the bridge on horseback, two men flanking a woman in the middle.  The men had semi-automatic rifles, the woman had a pistol on her hip.   I could hear others on top of the Western barrier quietly pass word to those below of the riders approaching.  Everyone got ready. They stopped just short of the chute, and the woman called out, “Aye!”   She had the same heavy Irish accent Sean had. “With whom may I speak?” Sean, lying next to me, looked surprised with raised eyebrows.  He then got up to his feet and called down to her. “Aye!  Be down in a moment!” To the rest of us atop the barricade, he said quietly, “Keep an eye out but remain calm.” A few moments later, Sean walked through the Chute and up to the riders.  The woman dismounted from her horse, handed the reins to one of the men, and walked up to Sean. She wore a white cowboy hat.  Had braided bright red hair over one shoulder.  A light blue long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves rolled partway up, leather chaps, cowboy boots.  She removed her leather gloves and offered her hand to Sean.  The men had different colored cowboy hats and their shirts were different colors but otherwise were dressed the same.   Based on all of Jack’s instructions on watching people, they all seemed relaxed.  She nodded and smiled a few times.  Sean even laughed once.  After a few more minutes, she smiled again and they shook hands again.  She got back on her horse, and the three of them trotted back to the other side of the bridge.  Sean turned and looked up, “All clear!  No worries!” We all climbed down from the barricade as Sean emerged from the Chute as everyone gathered around to hear him. “It was like Jamal said, they are Nomads, just passing through and looking to trade.  While I feel we can trust them, we will still post guards overnight.  Three shifts, like usual.” A sigh of relief went through the crowd as the idea of another fight seemed to have been avoided.   Diary, I shared with them in that relief. Entry two When Jack heard the news, he did his usual thinking eyes, then nodded at Sean’s reading of the situation and plan to post guards overnight.  Jack guessed they would set up guards overnight.  But as Nomads, that could be the natural way of life for them.  He looked better, But still not up to getting out of bed. I volunteered for the last shift just before dawn.  As I took my post atop the barricade, dawn was still a good hour or so away, but pre-dawn twilight would start in about half an hour.  I listened to the sound of the river rushing below.  Crickets in the night.  Behind me, in his shack, I thought I could hear Sean snoring every once in a while.   The sky to the East began to brighten.  After another fifteen minutes or so, I could clearly make out the bridge and even some parts of the other side. The people of Four Corners began to stir and awaken.  Cooking fires were being lit, and others were setting up for the day’s business.   On the other side of the bridge, I could see the Nomads were starting their own cooking fires and moving around.  It struck me as funny how they, too, had a similar routine like Four Corners.  I wondered if it was like that in other communities.  The ones that remained.   The overcast sky made it difficult to tell when the sun had first broken the horizon to the East, signaling the end of our guard shift.  We gave it a few more minutes till we could clearly see everything around us.  As I climbed down, Sean was leaving his shack with a wooden bucket and ladle he would use to wash up with water he would get from the boat launch down Old River Road South.  He said I could use some of the water for me to wash up and to keep watch for him while he was gone, nodding over to the other side of the bridge.   “If they are anything like us, they will be over shortly and ready to trade.” “I could see them moving about and getting their cooking fires lit.” “Aye.  Well, you are the welcoming committee if they do.” Sean was right.  Not five minutes after he left to get water, the call went out that someone was coming across the bridge.  I went through the Chute to meet them. The red-headed man with the cowboy hat on foot was in the lead of about a dozen others, small pulling carts with small livestock in cages made from wood and chicken wire, and some shepherding medium-sized livestock. “Good morning.  I’m Katie,” she said, offering her hand as the group stopped before me.   “Good morning.  I’m Jessica,” I took her hand.  “Sean is out and appointed me to welcome you to Four Corners.”  Katie had bright green eyes and fair skin with freckles.  It was hard to tell her age, but she could have passed as Sean’s younger sister.   Katie thanked me as I lead them through the Chute.  She still had the handgun on her hip, but that was not unusual in Four Corners.  Nearly everyone was armed just out of habit.  I was to the point that if I did not have my rifle over my shoulder, I felt like I was missing a shoe or a sock. As we walked, Katie described what they were looking to trade for.  Most of what they were looking for was to the South, but they were also looking to diversify the bloodlines of some of their livestock.  As the others moved off to trade, I led Katie and a few of the others with the livestock to the Four Corners pens by the East gate.  “How did you become Nomads?” “Most of us were on a ranch to the Northwest.  When the power went out, a bunch of the ranch hands brought their families to the ranch.  I was the ranch manager.  Got a knack for management and logistics.  For the first year, things were okay.  Then, the drought set in.  After months of no rain, wells began to dry up.  I had to make a decision.  So, we took what we could, did our best with what we had, and started Eastward.  Been on the road, living out of a saddle for, oh, going on eight months now.” “Did you own the ranch?” “No.  Unfortunately, Chris and his wife, Susan, were on a Mediterranean cruise when the power went out.  I feared the worst for them.  They were good people, but as a doctor and a lawyer, they had soft hands if you take my meaning.” “I was once that way myself.  Till the power went out.” We arrived at the East gate pens.  I made introductions, and Katie’s group engaged with the members of Four Corners, who maintained the pens, and they talked about trading and bloodlines.   From their posts, Tom and Collins watched the activity behind them.  With no obvious threat coming from outside the East gate, they hopped down and walked up to us.  Just before they got within earshot, I whispered, “Katie, I am so sorry.” Katie looked puzzled, then Tom started in his awful fake English accent, “The hero of Four Corners graces us with her ever-so-lovely presence!  And lo!  Whom has she brought us?  An ever so fair maiden!”  Tom whipped off his ball cap and did one of his flourishing bows. Collins and I actually rolled our eyes at each other. Katie laughed.  Then she played into it but with her deep Irish accent, “Aye!” Even though she was not wearing a dress, she curtsied as if she were and bowed her head. “I thank thee, good sir, for your most gracious welcome!  You honor me and the hero of Four Corners with your ever-so-kind gesture!” “Is this really happening?” Collins deadpanned me. “Collins, chicken and biscuits make it stop.  Drive hot metal skewers into my ears!  Please!” For the next five minutes, Collins, those around us, and I had to endure Katie and Tom trying to one-up each other with flowery speech, flourishing bows and curtsies, and over-the-top compliments. Diary . . . chicken and biscuits! Entry three The first day’s trading went well, Katie and Tom’s cringeworthy exchange aside. The Nomads had a young woman who was very close to her due date and lost her mucus plug.  Daniel and Savannah went to their camp to evaluate and monitor the situation.  Not having anyone who had been formally trained in anything medical outside of CPR, Katie made the decision to stay camped across from Four Corners until the baby could be delivered and they could be assured both mother and child were well.   The poor woman was in labor for eighteen hours!  And with something called “back labor.”  I have no idea what that is, despite Savannah trying to explain it to me, but it sounded painful, and I always got the urge to cross my legs when I heard it.  They had the pregnant mother walk around to try to speed up the labor process, but it did not work.  They even joked about having her do jumping jacks to get the baby out.  (Author’s note: That was the actual birth of my daughter, eighteen hours of back labor, the walking, the jumping jack jokes, and all!  That’s right, kiddo, I am looking at you!) Once the mother was dilated and ready to push, Daniel had Savannah perform the delivery from start to end, and then instructed her on how to do postpartum care.  He wanted Savannah to have as much real-world experience as she could get.   As they waited for the baby to be delivered, Four Corners and the Nomads did a lot of trading.   On the morning the baby was finally delivered, we had something of a celebration dinner for both Four Corners and the Nomads.  Katie, Sean, Rae, and I were sitting around a fire, chatting, when Rae suggested Katie and her Nomads could settle just outside of our community.   Katie said she would consider it. Part four The next morning, Katie and two men came across the bridge on horseback, leading a string of two horses each.  Like with the livestock, they wanted to diversify their horse bloodlines.  I told them about the Millers who might be willing to trade to diversify their own bloodlines.  If not them, some of the farms further out might be willing to trade.  I offered to lead them to the Millers, but would need a horse to ride.  Katie agreed, sent one of the men back to get a saddled horse for me.  While we were waiting, I went to find Rae to tell her where I would be.  Rae was visiting Jack with Samson and the puppies.  Rae had to keep the dogs from jumping up on Jack; they were so excited to see him.  He tried not to laugh, as it hurt, but could not help a few chuckles.  I told them of the trade with Katie and the Millers when Rae mentioned that she suggested to Katie the possibility of the Nomads settling near our community.  With his thinking eyes, Jack said, “This could be a good thing for not only us but them.” Diary, I think Jack is right.   About 1stMarineJarHead 1stMarineJarHead 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. The post Dear Diary, It’s Me, Jessica: Chapter 13 (Book 2) appeared first on The Organic Prepper.

The Little Pink House