Standby

As soon as my muse surfaces this blog will return to normal. As it stands madam muse only weeps sad words and I've restricted her to the closet until further notice. Then again, she is a forceful and worthy foe and it's possible she'll kick my butt and the resulting dismal tale will be posted.

Perhaps I should rephrase the structure of my first sentence. Muse is here, she's just hardheaded and determined I dictate her words. Muse hates reluctance. 

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Stephen

The Wee Hours

Zero two hundred and I find myself in the kitchen building a bean soup for today's dinner.  Silence extends from my home into the darkness and it gives me time to think and dream on my feet.

I've noticed my hands give the sharp scent of onion and bacon and just now I get a whiff of fresh brewed coffee. Even though a book awaits my attention I think I'll draw a cup and take a walk, perhaps check the rivers tide.

Besides, the water and salt marsh smell nice this time of the morning, and if one stands quietly, the soft click of the fiddler crabs keep beat with the lap of the shallow waves.

Strange how the lack of sleep attunes our senses.

Stephen

Wrong Business

I'm deep into the AMC series, Breaking Bad.

Without a doubt I'm in the wrong business.

(Sarcastically stated)


 
Stephen

Big Hint

If, you are truly a member of the gun culture, you'll understand.


Check it out.

Also available for the Ruger 10/22.

You're welcome.

Stephen

Anger Management

I hit the new post button and then sit here like a stump on a log with a blank expression on my face, mind numb. I need to write, something. Perhaps I'll give you a local weather report, ready. It's hot.

Before bed, last evening, our temperature thingamabob reflected seventy-two degrees. It's gonna be a long summer. Yet, this morning just as the sun peeked hello, I stepped outside to a fairly cool breeze loaded with the refreshing scent of salt and marsh and pine mast.

I need a vacation. We have, as it stands, set aside the last week of June for our time away from our busy lives. We'll drive over to the Gulf and take a seat next to the water. I'll pretend to read, maybe set out a fishing pole, but in all honesty, it'll be nap time. A whole friggin week.

So far this morning the shop has been very quiet. I've had a chance to walk around the parking lot and gather all the democrat tracks. Only two beer cans and one plastic bag. Must have been a quiet night, even the moon fleas took a break.

I had planned a range day for tomorrow....what's that old adage, 'the best laid plans....' Seems all my close friends have met resistance. Probably for the best as ammo isn't cheap and the supply is low.

QUIT BUYING AMMO.

Bunch of dumba$$eS.

Supply and demand, think about it. It's a tricky business. Allow the market to cool. Then, watch as the shelves restock and then, and only then, reach over and grab your need and stack it deep...but, slowly. It'll also cost less.

End of sermon.

Sorry. I'm not in a great frame of mind.

Late yesterday as I walked from the market back to my truck I found a penny. I bent, grabbed and stuffed it in my pocket. Seconds later as droll seeped from my open mouth I came back to reality. Seems I'd lost myself to the memory of my Little Bit. Penny hunting was our thing....our fun activity as we ran errands. She'd squeal in delight with every hint of copper.

After I'd reached for the coin and stood in place like an idiot at a liberal convention, lost in the thought of her, horns tooting me back to awareness, I damn near lost it...white hot anger took control of my otherwise calm controlled demeanor.

I must confess, and this isn't easy for me....but I wanted to beat, someone. I had such an urge to reach out and just choke the first person within range. I literately shook.

It's taken a great deal of self control on my part to not drive to her home and kick the door down. I'm not a violent man. Yes, I carry a firearm. Yes, I've been in the crap, but since....I've tried to live in peace. The evidence of such is my restraint and unwillingness to write of my military days, as you might of noticed.  I've worked very hard to control my emotions of which my Little Bit and my Sweet Wife played huge parts. When that little girl came into my life she changed me. I became a better man and now she's gone.

In slightly less than two weeks it will be one year since I've held her in my arms.

I hate I've written of this pain. To allow my emotions laid bare, yet this is my journal, my testimony to her. Hopefully one day far in the future she will read this and understand her Papa tried.

Stephen
 

For Only

Fifty seven Euros its all yours....

Really

Tell him I said, hello.

Stephen

It's Like This

Ever so often my books reach deep inside and hook their claws into my soul and refuse to release me. When book hook occurs my universe shrinks into nothingness - I simply disappear.

I apologize for my neglect of all this white space.

Not that I should feel the need for justification of my actions, but hey, you're my friends.

*****

As it stands my plans for next weekend involve gun powder and hot lead. Should be fun. Notes will be taken.

I need to dig out a few safe queens and put 'em thru their paces. Come on down and join us...bring ammo.

Stephen