Grover's Guessing Game About the Apocalypse

I can't believe I forgot to post it here! Last week's Blogger Idol post- the Apocalypse strikes!

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Grover's Guessing Game About the Apocalypse

Five days ago the dead began rising from the earth and consuming the living, and since then I've read Grover's Guessing Game About Animals more times than I can possibly count.

"Now I am thinking of an animal with soft fur! Do you know what it is?"

I don't even need to look at the pages by now. I always kept a book in the diaper bag, in case of emergencies. Well we've been in emergency mode since Friday, and even the four year olds are tired of Grover and the lion with the monkey on his head. But it keeps the toddler quiet, and quiet is essential.

"It is a kitty cat! You are so smart!"
"She's not smart!" One of my four year olds shouted. "She goes poop in her diaper!"
"Don't yell!"
"Sorry, mommy. I don't want to see any more dead people."
"Me either. Now I am thinking of an animal with a hard shell!"

We're only a few hours away from my parents' house. This was the plan- you've got to have a plan. When the Zombie Apocalypse comes, you don't want to be caught unprepared.

I used to make my husband run through the steps with me, despite his eye rolls and complaints. I've said "I told you so" about once an hour since we hit the road.

Step One: Confirm there are zombies walking among us.

Step Two: I grab the hatchet, he grabs a baseball bat, we strap on half a dozen knives and get into the car. I drop him at the pawn shop to steal guns, and I take the kids around the corner to rob the pharmacy. If the world is ending, we'll need all the anti-seizure drugs we can get. Also antibiotics, albuterol inhalers, and of COURSE antacids. The apocalypse is stressful.

Step Three: We call my in-laws in Minnesota to tell them how to reach us- if possible. Then we drive to Guppy Lake.

Guppy Lake is the perfect safe haven. Dad got paranoid about Y2K and prepped for the end of the world. Hand crank flashlights and radios. Water purification tablets. First aid supplies. There are probably still cans of beans and dehydrated orange juice from the last millennium.

The pond is fed by freshwater spring, and there's a greenhouse with date trees. The cabin is heated by wood stove and has a room full of board games. The windows are tiny, so it's easy to barricade. If things get ugly we can pile into the paddle boat and drift on the pond, shooting zombies on the shore.

Of course, nothing ever goes according to plan. By the time my husband hit the pawn shop there were no guns. At the pharmacy the only thing left was a box of Kleenex. I took it, of course, but had to leave my hatchet inside a zombie on the way back to the van.

It took an entire day to make the typically one hour journey to Michigan, but once we got off I-94 the traffic vanished. Who'd have thought nobody would head to Flint when the world ended? They have plenty of experience with end-of-days working conditions.

The "Post Apocalyptic Hellscape" theme is not new to Flint.
(From "Roger and Me"

As we got off the freeway, a zombie stumbled up to the car. The twins were playing with the digital camera in the back seat and took its picture. It wandered off, disoriented. Turns out the flash blinds the dead worse than the living. The next time we passed a Walgreen's I grabbed the camera and headed in for medicine.

I had been looking forward to smashing in some Walgreen's pharmacy technicians' heads for years, since the first time we filled my husband's chemo prescription. During the year he was in treatment they only got it right once, and I lost count of the number of pathetic excuses they had for withholding his lifesaving medication. Feasting on their customers' brains was just the latest, and I couldn't wait to finally give them a piece of my mind. I ran into the pharmacy, screaming.

"You forgot to call the prescription in to the manufacturer? He'll have to take five 200mg doses in 5mg pills? You dispensed his chemotherapy to the wrong person by mistake? DIE, YOU BRAINLESS, REANIMATED PIECES OF SHIT! DIE!"

102 snapshots of zombies in white coats and name tags with their skulls
crushed is more effective than four years of therapy.
(From the Flickr Creative Commons)

It's taken us the better part of a week, siphoning gas from abandoned cars and clearing the road of debris so we can crawl along in our minivan, but we're close. Soon we can kick back, relax, and enjoy the end of the world in peace.

At night he'll wrap his arms around me and whisper in my ear, "You were right, you're always right, you know everything..."

The zombie apocalypse might end up being better than our honeymoon.

In Honor of Chris Keith

Every day in the US, three women are killed by their husbands or boyfriends.

It seems like an improbable number. Like it could never happen to you, to somebody you know.

But it has.

Christine Keith, aka Adventures of a Thrifty Mama

Last week, the blogging community lost one of its own. Chris Keith blogged about healthy living, organic eating, homeschooling... the same thing that so many mommy bloggers do. And she was good at it. She had to be. Chris was supporting four kids on her own, on a subsistence income after separating from her abusive husband.

But one week ago, her estranged husband went to her house, and killed her. He killed her oldest son, Isaac. And then he killed himself. The three youngest children had gone to their grandparents' house for the night- fortunately out of harm's way.

Chris taught Zumba. She gardened. She went on her local news channel to talk about food stamps, and how to eat healthy meals with a minimal budget. She was a good person, and a good mother. And now she's gone.

Now she's one of three women who died at the hands of their husbands or boyfriends that day.

There are things you can do to help her and her children. Her church has taken up a memorial fund- you can donate there to help provide for her children- sons aged 4 and 8, and a six year old daughter.

Memorial Fund

They have not been allowed back in their home, a crime scene, and it may be a long time before they are. They have nothing but what they took to Grandma's house the night their mother and brother were taken from them.

And you can help even more than that. You can spread the word that domestic violence, as endemic as it is, should not and must not be tolerated. That there are places those who are suffering can go, that there are resources available to them. That there is help out there.

There's the National Domestic Violence Hotline, where trained expert advocates are available 24/7 to talk confidentially.

There's Safe Horizon, which helps connect victims to shelters.

There's the National Resource Center on Domestic Violence, which provides access to information, and opportunities for training and education for those who want to work to end domestic violence, or intervene on behalf of somebody in their life.

Don't remain silent. Don't close your eyes to the suffering all around you. Don't make excuses, or insist it takes two to quarrel. Just listen, offer a hand, and stand strong.

And maybe, if we all shine a light on this issue, into the darkness of abuse, maybe today nobody has to die.