Please bear with me.
I'm sure as soon as my life returns to some sibilance of normal my muse will return. Until then please take a look at all the nice blogs listed on my sidebar. They're good talented people.
Stephen
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Numb
Is the best way I can describe myself of late. Guess I've been stuck inside so long ideas for articles have been hard to find. I've taken to books for inspiration and even that tactic has failed.
Please bear with me.
I'm sure as soon as my life returns to some sibilance of normal my muse will return. Until then please take a look at all the nice blogs listed on my sidebar. They're good talented people.
Later.
Stephen
Please bear with me.
I'm sure as soon as my life returns to some sibilance of normal my muse will return. Until then please take a look at all the nice blogs listed on my sidebar. They're good talented people.
Stephen
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Bits and Pieces
I took the day off yesterday. Didn't write a single word. Read most of the day. I'm sure many of you have got locked into a good novel and refused to set it aside...well, that's what happened. It felt good, too.
And, I must admit my laptop wasn't working very well...allowed Little Bit to use it to play computer games. When she gave it back she had surfed the Internet for on-line games and had downloaded so much junk my computer was next to worthless. I held my tongue. Took me several hours to clean out the mess. She clicked and downloaded two different tool bars...little booger.
My good friend, Duke dropped by the house this morning and we chatted and jawed for over an hour. Sure was a nice visit...I've missed him. We had a good talk. When my shop is open he'll drop by at a moments notice, jerk a cup of coffee, and we'll talk for hours. Since I've been stuck here at home for the last month he hasn't had the opportunity to just pop in on a moments notice. We spoke of many of our fellow bloggers - don't worry, he didn't bad mouth everyone....
He fled when the day nurse arrived. He's squeamish.
Oh, 45er, Duke dropped off the nice package...thank you very much for the nice gift. I'll tear into the jerky very soon. Like I said, I owe you one.
Isn't this gun blog community filled with nice people. During my illness I received some wonderful support and many very nice gifts. I've received beautiful homemade candy from my friend PISSED and his lovely wife. A bag of coffee beans - some of the best coffee I've had in many years, from my buddy, mmasse that lives in my favorite state, Idaho, and so many other nice gestures I've lost count. Thank you all very much. Like I said above, I owe each of you one...if help is needed, just yell.
A few days ago one of the nurses arrived with a drippy nose. Didn't wear her mask. My immune system, now, is very compromised. Guess what. I haven't had a good nights sleep in two days. Cough all damn night. So as not to disturb Sweet Wife's sleep I left the bed this morning at 0200, made a pot of tea and sat and drank about six cups, with honey, to ease my affection. Fell asleep in my chair about 0500. Long night. Little Bit asked me way I 'looked funny,' this morning. Gave her my story.
"Papa."
"What, Honeybun."
"You can have one of my teddybears, it'll help you sleep, Papa."
You've just got to love little girls.
Now, if you'll excuse me I've many comments to answer and a good novel to read. I'll see you good folks later.
By the way, the nurse said I should be released this coming weekend. I can smell the cordite.
Stephen
And, I must admit my laptop wasn't working very well...allowed Little Bit to use it to play computer games. When she gave it back she had surfed the Internet for on-line games and had downloaded so much junk my computer was next to worthless. I held my tongue. Took me several hours to clean out the mess. She clicked and downloaded two different tool bars...little booger.
My good friend, Duke dropped by the house this morning and we chatted and jawed for over an hour. Sure was a nice visit...I've missed him. We had a good talk. When my shop is open he'll drop by at a moments notice, jerk a cup of coffee, and we'll talk for hours. Since I've been stuck here at home for the last month he hasn't had the opportunity to just pop in on a moments notice. We spoke of many of our fellow bloggers - don't worry, he didn't bad mouth everyone....
He fled when the day nurse arrived. He's squeamish.
Oh, 45er, Duke dropped off the nice package...thank you very much for the nice gift. I'll tear into the jerky very soon. Like I said, I owe you one.
Isn't this gun blog community filled with nice people. During my illness I received some wonderful support and many very nice gifts. I've received beautiful homemade candy from my friend PISSED and his lovely wife. A bag of coffee beans - some of the best coffee I've had in many years, from my buddy, mmasse that lives in my favorite state, Idaho, and so many other nice gestures I've lost count. Thank you all very much. Like I said above, I owe each of you one...if help is needed, just yell.
A few days ago one of the nurses arrived with a drippy nose. Didn't wear her mask. My immune system, now, is very compromised. Guess what. I haven't had a good nights sleep in two days. Cough all damn night. So as not to disturb Sweet Wife's sleep I left the bed this morning at 0200, made a pot of tea and sat and drank about six cups, with honey, to ease my affection. Fell asleep in my chair about 0500. Long night. Little Bit asked me way I 'looked funny,' this morning. Gave her my story.
"Papa."
"What, Honeybun."
"You can have one of my teddybears, it'll help you sleep, Papa."
You've just got to love little girls.
Now, if you'll excuse me I've many comments to answer and a good novel to read. I'll see you good folks later.
By the way, the nurse said I should be released this coming weekend. I can smell the cordite.
Stephen
Sunday, February 26, 2012
For kymber
As requested.
Chili under construction:
kymber, also notice my nice old Corning Ware percolator on the flames...my drip pot went kaput. Guess I'll need to drink good coffee from here on out.
Stephen
Chili under construction:
Stephen
Sunday Morning
It's chilly and wet here today. Time for me to build a chili which I shall tackle as soon as the day nurse leaves this morning. Sweet Wife told me to and I always obey her.
Sorry for not posting yesterday but we took a quick trip to St. Augustine. Little Bit needed new school shoes and other feminine items. Seems too my wife needed a break from her routine and she can only find rescue by spending cash.
I had talk with my nurse yesterday, dropped to my knees and begged to be released from prison. I need to return to work; open my shop. She said, maybe. Next week. I said, think I'll just sneak out and spend a little time at the office. She said if you do you'll lose all your insurance coverage. Jesus wept. Like I've said, what they don't know won't hurt them. My shop will be opened next week. Screw 'em.
Think I'll tackle Brigid's brownies today too.
Have a great day and I'll see you later.
Stephen
Sorry for not posting yesterday but we took a quick trip to St. Augustine. Little Bit needed new school shoes and other feminine items. Seems too my wife needed a break from her routine and she can only find rescue by spending cash.
I had talk with my nurse yesterday, dropped to my knees and begged to be released from prison. I need to return to work; open my shop. She said, maybe. Next week. I said, think I'll just sneak out and spend a little time at the office. She said if you do you'll lose all your insurance coverage. Jesus wept. Like I've said, what they don't know won't hurt them. My shop will be opened next week. Screw 'em.
Think I'll tackle Brigid's brownies today too.
Have a great day and I'll see you later.
Stephen
Friday, February 24, 2012
In The Quiet of The Night
The young couple rented the old two story house with a roof of hundred year old cedar shingles. The house was located just off the main street of a small town. Their bedroom faced the street, and they were happy with the large double paned window with its view of the mountains and Puget Sound. The young man was home on leave.
The young couple were in bed and they were warm and had only light from the few cars that passed in the late hours and the young man enjoyed the way the light passed through the window for it gave him a show as it reflected off the snowflakes. He was content and had great plans.
The young man held his beautiful wife close and he enjoyed the scent of her; all fresh and clean with just a touch of perfume. She knew he liked it and had taken great pains for this reunion.
She moved to a sitting position and bent and kissed him and he liked the way her long hair tickled his chest. Outside, the wind sent out a gust and their wind chimes beat a steady rhythm. She wrapped the blankets over her slim form and then said, "The test was positive."
The young man felt his stomach knot and visions of lost dreams danced over his mind. "Are you sure? Maybe they're wrong."
She giggled. "No, it's true. Aren't you happy for us."
He reached and placed his hand on her arm, gave it a little squeeze, then brushed her beautiful face. He gently pulled her down and held and kissed her. The old house creaked under the wind's force and the snow gave a show of white streaked lines on the wavy glass of their window.
He whispered to her, "We're so young."
"I know. But if not now when? We have the store and your career. We'll manage."
Over the last year, in between his duty assignments, they'd traveled the state and searched out old pieces of furniture, antiques, and the young man took great care to refinish the pieces. They'd rented a store front in the small towns main street and were fairly successful for their effort.
He had other plans too. The young man wanted a home of their own and had made an offer on the Victorian he'd found that sat high on a hill with views of the mountains and had a cold wild stream where the seasonal salmon migrations filled it bank to bank. And, he had hobbies. How would he have the time to roam the mountains, rifle in hand, or afford his books, or fish the wild run of Steelheads, or bird hunt the fall season.
"You still with me?"
"Yes," the young man said. "I'm still here."
The young woman read his face in spite of the darkness. She cried.
A week later the young man parked his truck across from the clinic. Curbside was a local schools playground and as he stepped from the truck he noticed the little ones run and play and swing; they were happy and he smiled and even then his resolve was strong and firm. He focused on one little girl as she pushed her swing to skirt flapping height, her giggles filled the air with joy and he didn't really care.
He walked around and helped his beautiful wife step down and took her arm and walked her inside. The older nurse gave him a firm look and took her from him. He waited.
Afterwards she stepped into the room and he rose, all gentlemanly like, to take her arm and she brushed it away and said, "It's done. I'm empty."
Only then did he feel the shame of it. Only then did it hit him of what he'd forced, and that time only moves one way and what is lost can never be returned.
The young man helped his wife back into the truck and walked to the other side. The playground was empty too. The only movement was the gentle sway of the swings in the wind.
Stephen
The young couple were in bed and they were warm and had only light from the few cars that passed in the late hours and the young man enjoyed the way the light passed through the window for it gave him a show as it reflected off the snowflakes. He was content and had great plans.
The young man held his beautiful wife close and he enjoyed the scent of her; all fresh and clean with just a touch of perfume. She knew he liked it and had taken great pains for this reunion.
She moved to a sitting position and bent and kissed him and he liked the way her long hair tickled his chest. Outside, the wind sent out a gust and their wind chimes beat a steady rhythm. She wrapped the blankets over her slim form and then said, "The test was positive."
The young man felt his stomach knot and visions of lost dreams danced over his mind. "Are you sure? Maybe they're wrong."
She giggled. "No, it's true. Aren't you happy for us."
He reached and placed his hand on her arm, gave it a little squeeze, then brushed her beautiful face. He gently pulled her down and held and kissed her. The old house creaked under the wind's force and the snow gave a show of white streaked lines on the wavy glass of their window.
He whispered to her, "We're so young."
"I know. But if not now when? We have the store and your career. We'll manage."
Over the last year, in between his duty assignments, they'd traveled the state and searched out old pieces of furniture, antiques, and the young man took great care to refinish the pieces. They'd rented a store front in the small towns main street and were fairly successful for their effort.
He had other plans too. The young man wanted a home of their own and had made an offer on the Victorian he'd found that sat high on a hill with views of the mountains and had a cold wild stream where the seasonal salmon migrations filled it bank to bank. And, he had hobbies. How would he have the time to roam the mountains, rifle in hand, or afford his books, or fish the wild run of Steelheads, or bird hunt the fall season.
"You still with me?"
"Yes," the young man said. "I'm still here."
The young woman read his face in spite of the darkness. She cried.
A week later the young man parked his truck across from the clinic. Curbside was a local schools playground and as he stepped from the truck he noticed the little ones run and play and swing; they were happy and he smiled and even then his resolve was strong and firm. He focused on one little girl as she pushed her swing to skirt flapping height, her giggles filled the air with joy and he didn't really care.
He walked around and helped his beautiful wife step down and took her arm and walked her inside. The older nurse gave him a firm look and took her from him. He waited.
Only then did he feel the shame of it. Only then did it hit him of what he'd forced, and that time only moves one way and what is lost can never be returned.
The young man helped his wife back into the truck and walked to the other side. The playground was empty too. The only movement was the gentle sway of the swings in the wind.
Stephen
Thursday, February 23, 2012
I Want
Confession here....if I weren't already married to my Sweet Wife, and if I were single and say ten years younger, I'd ride to Canada and find Laura Calder and drag her back to my lair and make her mine.
I mean, the lady just made duck confit.
Let's face it. We all have our fantasies.
Stephen
Let's face it. We all have our fantasies.
Stephen
The Dragunov Saga
Began late last night when my cell rang...I answered, even though the number was unfamiliar.
"Hey, are you Stephen?"
"Yes, how may I help...." He cuts me off with, "Hey, listen. My buddy said you'd buy this rifle."
Like that...
I said, "Back up a moment. First, what's your friends name?"
"Billy Bob."
I searched my memory for any Billy Bob's I might or might not know and came up empty. In the mean time he's still running his mouth. He made mention of where and how he'd met this so called common friend of ours. He continued, "Yeah, man, it's a real good deal and he said you buy it."
"What exactly are you trying to sell?"
"Okay," all breathless, "What I got here is a 7.62x54 Dragunov with a 24 inch barrel with a 8x42 pro mildot scope and two hundred rounds of ammunition and two ten round magazines."
I asked, "What price, not that I'm interested, you understand?"
Long pause.
"Okay, here's the deal. I need $1,350.00 for it."
Immediately I came back with, "No. But thanks for the offer."
Then, "Are you nuts. Hey, man, this is a great sniper rifle. Hey, man, my friend said you'd buy it."
"He isn't my friend. Besides, there's no profit margin in your price."
That one threw him for a loop. For a moment I thought I'd lost the connection and was about to hit the button when, "Ah, what 'ya mean man."
"Just what I said. There's little to zero profit in this deal. I have no desire to add this rifle to my personal collection; it's worthless for practical applications, although fun to shoot. But for me, it's useless. Kinda like tits on a boar."
Silence.
"What will you give me for it. Give me a break, man. Make me an offer."
I thought about it for a nano-second, then said, "Five hundred, and you keep the ammo."
He yelled a few curse words in my direction. I cut it short. He regained his composure and continued.
"Is your cell able get text?"
"Yes, even out here in the sticks of rural River City this Blackberry has the capability to accept text."
"Okay, sure man. Then what if I send you a couple of pictures. Will you think on it?"
I gave it a two beat, and said, "Sure, send them. And, by the way. I don't just purchase every weapon sent my way. I'm funny like that, do you understand, and furthermore, my name isn't, man."
He sent this.
I'm still not a buyer.
Stephen
"Hey, are you Stephen?"
"Yes, how may I help...." He cuts me off with, "Hey, listen. My buddy said you'd buy this rifle."
Like that...
I said, "Back up a moment. First, what's your friends name?"
"Billy Bob."
I searched my memory for any Billy Bob's I might or might not know and came up empty. In the mean time he's still running his mouth. He made mention of where and how he'd met this so called common friend of ours. He continued, "Yeah, man, it's a real good deal and he said you buy it."
"What exactly are you trying to sell?"
"Okay," all breathless, "What I got here is a 7.62x54 Dragunov with a 24 inch barrel with a 8x42 pro mildot scope and two hundred rounds of ammunition and two ten round magazines."
I asked, "What price, not that I'm interested, you understand?"
Long pause.
"Okay, here's the deal. I need $1,350.00 for it."
Immediately I came back with, "No. But thanks for the offer."
Then, "Are you nuts. Hey, man, this is a great sniper rifle. Hey, man, my friend said you'd buy it."
"He isn't my friend. Besides, there's no profit margin in your price."
That one threw him for a loop. For a moment I thought I'd lost the connection and was about to hit the button when, "Ah, what 'ya mean man."
"Just what I said. There's little to zero profit in this deal. I have no desire to add this rifle to my personal collection; it's worthless for practical applications, although fun to shoot. But for me, it's useless. Kinda like tits on a boar."
Silence.
"What will you give me for it. Give me a break, man. Make me an offer."
I thought about it for a nano-second, then said, "Five hundred, and you keep the ammo."
He yelled a few curse words in my direction. I cut it short. He regained his composure and continued.
"Is your cell able get text?"
"Yes, even out here in the sticks of rural River City this Blackberry has the capability to accept text."
"Okay, sure man. Then what if I send you a couple of pictures. Will you think on it?"
I gave it a two beat, and said, "Sure, send them. And, by the way. I don't just purchase every weapon sent my way. I'm funny like that, do you understand, and furthermore, my name isn't, man."
He sent this.
I'm still not a buyer.
Stephen
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Good Afternoon
Sorry I didn't write an update last night but yesterday was hectic, to say the least. On my way out the door for my afternoon with the doctors and nurses I heard an awful sound. Do you guys and girls remember the water line leak I had last week - well guess what.
I dialed the plumber as I drove away and told him his repair didn't hold. Informed him I wanted water before I came home last night. He said, "I'll try." At the doc's office the nurse asked why my blood pressure was so high.
So, I get to his office twenty minutes early, take a seat and wait with soul searing patience. Finally the nurse, all cheery and chatty, screams my name. She takes me to a room and I sit there for one solid hour. Thank God for Kindle. I arrived at one forty-five in the afternoon....left at five. I kid you not. At least I had water when I arrived home. I forget the author of the famous phrase, 'It's times like these that try man's soul.'
kymber, my dear lady, as requested, here's your picture of the soup I built yesterday.
As many of you know I am the founder of a group of like minded individuals. We're all veterans of our country's various military services. A great bunch of men and women. For the last year we've met once a month. Lately we just call our monthly meetings, work days. I, nor Duke, for obvious reasons, could make this month's meeting/work day.
We, as a group, have under construction what we call, The Boar's Nest. Its a combination storage/bunkhouse/kitchen constructed on stilts located far out in the boonies on a beautiful wild river.
Last weekend the guys, without mine and Duke's valued help, finished our power connection. We have lights....and a freshly painted ceiling, in white. They did a great job. Wish I had a photo to share. Well, I do but it's an older picture of a few us on our quest for treasure taken last year. Duke is that big fella on the far left.
Above, a rare picture of yours truly. I don't like cameras. For the curious it's a Glock 27 in my old Galco SOB holster. I remember it was a hot sweaty day and I'd jerked my shirt tail out, and yes, the trousers are old woodland camo. I live in Guy Harvey shirts.
(snip)
This morning on our way to school I look over to find Little Bit with the trucks visor mirror pulled down and her reflection under careful study. She turns this way and that and smiles. I finally asked, "Honey, what are you doing?"
She turns to me with, "Papa, I'm wearing my new lipstick, and now I'm pretty, and it's pink."
Seems her Nana gave her a stick of that lip balm stuff for her birthday. The brand is geared towards little girls.
I don't know, ask someone else.
"Papa."
"Yes, Honeybun."
"Aren't I pretty?"
"You have always been pretty to me with or without that stuff."
She smiles at me. Then, "I know Papa, I just wanted to make sure you still knew I was pretty."
Girls.
Stephen
I dialed the plumber as I drove away and told him his repair didn't hold. Informed him I wanted water before I came home last night. He said, "I'll try." At the doc's office the nurse asked why my blood pressure was so high.
So, I get to his office twenty minutes early, take a seat and wait with soul searing patience. Finally the nurse, all cheery and chatty, screams my name. She takes me to a room and I sit there for one solid hour. Thank God for Kindle. I arrived at one forty-five in the afternoon....left at five. I kid you not. At least I had water when I arrived home. I forget the author of the famous phrase, 'It's times like these that try man's soul.'
kymber, my dear lady, as requested, here's your picture of the soup I built yesterday.
As many of you know I am the founder of a group of like minded individuals. We're all veterans of our country's various military services. A great bunch of men and women. For the last year we've met once a month. Lately we just call our monthly meetings, work days. I, nor Duke, for obvious reasons, could make this month's meeting/work day.
We, as a group, have under construction what we call, The Boar's Nest. Its a combination storage/bunkhouse/kitchen constructed on stilts located far out in the boonies on a beautiful wild river.
Last weekend the guys, without mine and Duke's valued help, finished our power connection. We have lights....and a freshly painted ceiling, in white. They did a great job. Wish I had a photo to share. Well, I do but it's an older picture of a few us on our quest for treasure taken last year. Duke is that big fella on the far left.
(snip)
This morning on our way to school I look over to find Little Bit with the trucks visor mirror pulled down and her reflection under careful study. She turns this way and that and smiles. I finally asked, "Honey, what are you doing?"
She turns to me with, "Papa, I'm wearing my new lipstick, and now I'm pretty, and it's pink."
Seems her Nana gave her a stick of that lip balm stuff for her birthday. The brand is geared towards little girls.
I don't know, ask someone else.
"Papa."
"Yes, Honeybun."
"Aren't I pretty?"
"You have always been pretty to me with or without that stuff."
She smiles at me. Then, "I know Papa, I just wanted to make sure you still knew I was pretty."
Girls.
Stephen
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Bits and Pieces
Nurse just left and now the house is quiet. The last two days have been fun, and I'd like to thank all of you, once again, for the nice birthday wishes you've extended my Little Bit. She had a wonderful birthday and you, my nice friends, were a great part of her happiness.
I must leave in a few minutes for some extended doctor's appointments and therapy. It will be a long day. Wish otherwise but such is life.
Our weather is cool. The high winds have moved on to greener pastures. Hopefully, after my chores of the day are behind, I will have time enough to build a nice soup. Just seems the day begs for a thick rich satisfying meal of soup and cornbread.
Have a great day and with any luck at all I'll see you nice folks later this evening.
Until then.
Stephen
I must leave in a few minutes for some extended doctor's appointments and therapy. It will be a long day. Wish otherwise but such is life.
Our weather is cool. The high winds have moved on to greener pastures. Hopefully, after my chores of the day are behind, I will have time enough to build a nice soup. Just seems the day begs for a thick rich satisfying meal of soup and cornbread.
Until then.
Stephen
Monday, February 20, 2012
Urgent Morning Update
Evil has descended upon my home....my grandchild, Little Bit, love and light of my life, has been taken over by a demon using the name of Justin Bieber...one of the ugliest critters I've ever seen. He squeals in the background as I write.
She's only seven...today. Help me....
Here's a wanted poster of this creature.
If you spot this thing, shot on sight. It's dangerous. One thousand rounds of your choice for proof of capture.
Stephen
She's only seven...today. Help me....
If you spot this thing, shot on sight. It's dangerous. One thousand rounds of your choice for proof of capture.
Stephen
To My Heart, Happy Birthday
You, Little Bit, have brought joy to my heart, and peace to my soul. Papa loves you more each day.
Happy Seventh Birthday. You are the light of my life.
My little bohemian last night.
Stephen
Happy Seventh Birthday. You are the light of my life.
My little bohemian last night.
Stephen
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Quick Note
Just to say I have nothing to say. Well, maybe a thing or two.
A storm front is working its way thru our area today...windy, rain. Nice.
We await the arrival of Little Bit. She's spending the night and tomorrow with us. She said she wants to attend a 'jumpy' house place on her birthday. I shall make it happen. Our grandson, Sport Model, will arrive with her. We haven't seen him in over a month. His mother is kind of 'clingy.' The little booger will not be able to spend the night...at least we'll be able to hold and love him for a short while.
Wasn't able to make my creole yesterday...only duck I could find was frozen...hate, using the word hate here, frozen anything. Butcher said he'd have me a fresh one soon. Asked how soon, said, maybe next week. I use a small butcher's shop, nice place. But at times I just want to wring their silly necks.
I am terribly behind in my reading. You'd think with so much time off I'd be able to catch up, but such is
not the case. My biggest problem is I just can't stay ahead of book deliveries, and with the two or three pieces I read on line (novels, short stories) and your blogs, well it's hard in between naps. So, for the next few hours I will have my Kindle in hand. Presently I'm deep into '77 Days in September,' by Ray Gorham. Not a bad read. Give it a try. Cheap as a Kindle download.
I have neglected my herb garden for far too long. My 'garden' is nothing more than a series of large clay pots...some very large. I have them located where the herbs want to be placed...if that makes sense. For instance, I'll plant my yearly basil and put the pot on the east side of my home - the basil, in its way, by not flourishing signifies it needs to be located elsewhere. I'll move it to the west side of my home where it receives additional sun, and boom, the sucker bolts to the sky. Like that...
Most of my mint and oregano have died...not all the mint, but most of it. I still have two nice pots of rosemary, both very old plants. Lots of work ahead.
Okay, gotta run. You guys have a great day, and hey, stay safe out there. Pack you gun.
Stephen
A storm front is working its way thru our area today...windy, rain. Nice.
We await the arrival of Little Bit. She's spending the night and tomorrow with us. She said she wants to attend a 'jumpy' house place on her birthday. I shall make it happen. Our grandson, Sport Model, will arrive with her. We haven't seen him in over a month. His mother is kind of 'clingy.' The little booger will not be able to spend the night...at least we'll be able to hold and love him for a short while.
Wasn't able to make my creole yesterday...only duck I could find was frozen...hate, using the word hate here, frozen anything. Butcher said he'd have me a fresh one soon. Asked how soon, said, maybe next week. I use a small butcher's shop, nice place. But at times I just want to wring their silly necks.
not the case. My biggest problem is I just can't stay ahead of book deliveries, and with the two or three pieces I read on line (novels, short stories) and your blogs, well it's hard in between naps. So, for the next few hours I will have my Kindle in hand. Presently I'm deep into '77 Days in September,' by Ray Gorham. Not a bad read. Give it a try. Cheap as a Kindle download.
Most of my mint and oregano have died...not all the mint, but most of it. I still have two nice pots of rosemary, both very old plants. Lots of work ahead.
Stephen
Saturday, February 18, 2012
What's For Dinner
I hope. Sweet Wife has agreed to a field trip. One of my stops will be the local market. If I have time (chuckle) I shall tackle this gumbo. Give it a try...and enjoy.
Duck and Andouille Sausage Gumbo
Serves 4
Serves 4
2 whole duck legs (drumstick and thigh, about 1 pound total)
salt, freshly ground pepper
1/2 pound andouille sausage, cut into 1/2-inch slices
canola oil
1/4 cup all purpose flour
1 large onion, chopped (about 1 cup)
4 ribs celery, sliced (about 2 cups)
2 cups chopped bell pepper (I used a mix of red and green)
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2-1/2 cups reduced sodium chicken broth
1 cup water
1 14-1/2-ounce can diced tomatoes, with juices
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon sweet paprika
2 bay leaves
1/2 pound fresh okra (may substitute frozen—see Kitchen Notes)
1-1/2 teaspoons filé powder (optional—see Kitchen Notes)
salt, freshly ground pepper
1/2 pound andouille sausage, cut into 1/2-inch slices
canola oil
1/4 cup all purpose flour
1 large onion, chopped (about 1 cup)
4 ribs celery, sliced (about 2 cups)
2 cups chopped bell pepper (I used a mix of red and green)
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2-1/2 cups reduced sodium chicken broth
1 cup water
1 14-1/2-ounce can diced tomatoes, with juices
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon sweet paprika
2 bay leaves
1/2 pound fresh okra (may substitute frozen—see Kitchen Notes)
1-1/2 teaspoons filé powder (optional—see Kitchen Notes)
cooked white rice
chopped Italian parsley, for garnish (optional)
Tabasco or other hot sauce (optional)
chopped Italian parsley, for garnish (optional)
Tabasco or other hot sauce (optional)
A quick tip: Chop the onion, celery, bell pepper and garlic before starting to cook the duck. It will make things easier—it will also make your kitchen smell like heaven right away.
Season the duck legs with salt and pepper and place them skin side down in a dry, unheated Dutch oven or heavy pot. Set the heat to medium-low and brown the duck on both sides, about 5 minutes per side. If the duck doesn’t release from the pot at 5 minutes, just let it cook a minute or so more and it will. Transfer the duck to a plate and add the andouille sausage. Brown just for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring occasionally and transfer to a bowl (or the plate with the duck legs).
Make the roux. Survey the fat in the bottom of the pot. There probably won’t be more than a tablespoon or so (duck legs have much less fat than duck breasts do). Add 3 tablespoons or so of canola oil to the pot, enough to give you about 1/4 cup of fat. Raise the heat to medium and add the flour all at once. Whisk the flour into the oil to combine and continue whisking to prevent burning. My favorite tool for this is a DIREKT whisk we bought at IKEA more than five years ago. I’m not sure they still carry it, but I think they have something similar.
After 5 minutes or so, the roux will start to take on a blond hue. Continue whisking and cooking. If your roux starts to smoke, reduce the heat slightly. Eventually, the roux will turn a nice deep brown; mine took about 15 minutes to get to that point, but it can take longer.
When the roux reaches a satisfying brownness, add the onion. Toss to coat with the roux and stir frequently (you can switch to a wooden spoon or pair of wooden spatulas—I like the latter because as you add more stuff to the pot, it’s easier to mix it all together). Cook the onion for about 5 minutes, then stir in the celery, bell pepper and garlic. Cook, stirring occasionally, for another 3 to 4 minutes.
Add the chicken broth, water and diced tomatoes with their liquids to the pot. Add the cayenne pepper, oregano, thyme, paprika and a generous grind of black pepper and stir to combine. Return the duck legs and sausage to the pot, along with any accumulated juices. Tuck the bay leaves into the liquid and bring gumbo to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 1 hour.
Transfer the duck legs to a plate and allow them to cool enough to handle. Cover the pot and let the gumbo continue to simmer. Meanwhile rinse the okra, trim off the tops and slice into half-inch or so pieces. After 10 or 15 minutes, remove the skin from the duck legs and cut/tear the meat from the bones. It will still be pretty warm, so be careful, but don’t be a baby about it, either. Cut the meat into bite-sized chunks and add the duck and the okra to the pot.
Cover and simmer for another 45 minutes. Taste and adjust seasonings. I know that 1/4 teaspoon of cayenne sounds tame, but the andouille sausage will add some heat. Add more cayenne if you like or some hot sauce. As the gumbo nears doneness, cook the rice. Remove the gumbo from the heat, discard bay leaves and stir in the filé powder, if you’re using it.
Serve the gumbo in shallow soup bowls. Top with a generous mound of rice and sprinkle with chopped parsley. Pass the hot sauce around the table for those who want more heat and a vinegary zip.
Kitchen Notes
Don’t skip the okra. Okra is a classic southern vegetable that found its way here from Africa. We love it steamed, fried or however. Some people object to its “sliminess,” but that viscous liquid cooks into the broth and helps thicken it. When shopping, avoid overly large okra, as it can be woody. If you can’t find acceptable fresh okra, frozen will do just fine.
Filé powder. This is another staple of Creole and Cajun cooking. Also known as gumbo filé, it is the powdered leaves of sassafras trees. It is used sparingly as a thickening agent and should be stirred into gumbo after it’s removed from the heat; otherwise, it can make the broth stringy. Besides thickening the broth, it adds a kind of root beer flavor. As you see, my recipe calls for all three thickening agents, roux, okra and filé powder. Feel free to omit the filé powder.
Stephen
Friday, February 17, 2012
Thanks & Welcome
Another sweet lady reached over and clicked my little blue button...welcome, Violet. I promise to always answer any comments you leave here at my humble blog.
Again, thank you and welcome. You are now among friends.
Stephen
Stephen
My Friend Duke
Lost his mother in law today. She passed quietly at home.
I'm sorry, my brother. May The Good Lord bless you and yours in this time of sorrow. If you'd like to leave a condolence, my friend is here.
Stephen
I'm sorry, my brother. May The Good Lord bless you and yours in this time of sorrow. If you'd like to leave a condolence, my friend is here.
Bits and Pieces
Misty here this morning and 68 degrees. I just told my day nurse I would return to work next week, open my shop for business. She said, "No, Sir, you will not. If you do your insurance coverage will cease."
Well just kiss my butt. What's that old saying, 'what they don't know won't hurt them.' Yeah, like that.
Our good friend Matt has dropped his blog. Via email I've encouraged him to begin anew. I sure hope he reconsiders. He's an intelligent writer with a sense of humor, rare.
I was able to watch Swamp People last evening. I like the show, but some little things about it bug the hell out of me. Has anyone else, besides me, noticed their rifles...well, I have and it's downright criminal. Those rifles haven't seen a good cleaning in years. On the program last night one of those 'ole boys held a Ruger 10/22 caked in rust. Patches big enough to have given life to alien critters. It's shameful.
In some shots the 'shooter' of the gator will have a Ruger Mini-14, the scene changes and he's now holding a Marlin model 60. You'd think they could at least keep a consistent timeline in the footage. And for Pete's sake invest in stainless steel barrels if you're too damn lazy to use an oil rag.
I had a sad drive this morning with Little Bit. She jumped into my truck all happy. Said, "Papa, it's only three days until my birthday." Replied I knew and was happy for her.
Down the road a bit she turned to me, all smiles, holding my hand. Then, "Papa, is my mommy coming down and is she going to stay at your house and will she be at my birthday party?"
I waited a few seconds before giving her the answer I knew she didn't really need. Made an excuse of minor adjustments to my wipers.
She turned towards me and waited. I again took her hand in mine and smiled at her and said, "Sweetheart, I'm not sure. It's possible but you do understand your mother is sick, don't you, and when adults are sick it's hard for them to travel (Lord, please forgive my lies to this child) and perhaps it's best if she didn't come down."
Without a sound she turned from me and held a steady gaze outside her window. A few minutes later she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. I tried a few times for a response. Nothing. I tried to tickle her, didn't work. The morning was gray and wet and I felt a sorrow so deep it almost made my bones ache. I hate this.
As we made our turn for her breakfast I tried again..."Little Bit, Papa's sorry. I really am. I love you." Reached over and stroked her face. "But remember, Honey, you'll have Papa and Nana and Dad, and your step-mother. It'll be a nice party.
Then, "She always lies to me, Papa. She always lies."
Sadly, she's correct.
I parked the truck and asked her if I could hold her for a while. She slowly, very slowly, came to my arms. I held her close, kissed her. We stayed that why for far too long. Our time is limited of mornings, but it was worth it.
She came around and as we walked inside the restaurant she was again all smiles and giggles.
It'll take me a little longer.
Stephen
Well just kiss my butt. What's that old saying, 'what they don't know won't hurt them.' Yeah, like that.
I was able to watch Swamp People last evening. I like the show, but some little things about it bug the hell out of me. Has anyone else, besides me, noticed their rifles...well, I have and it's downright criminal. Those rifles haven't seen a good cleaning in years. On the program last night one of those 'ole boys held a Ruger 10/22 caked in rust. Patches big enough to have given life to alien critters. It's shameful.
In some shots the 'shooter' of the gator will have a Ruger Mini-14, the scene changes and he's now holding a Marlin model 60. You'd think they could at least keep a consistent timeline in the footage. And for Pete's sake invest in stainless steel barrels if you're too damn lazy to use an oil rag.
I had a sad drive this morning with Little Bit. She jumped into my truck all happy. Said, "Papa, it's only three days until my birthday." Replied I knew and was happy for her.
Down the road a bit she turned to me, all smiles, holding my hand. Then, "Papa, is my mommy coming down and is she going to stay at your house and will she be at my birthday party?"
I waited a few seconds before giving her the answer I knew she didn't really need. Made an excuse of minor adjustments to my wipers.
She turned towards me and waited. I again took her hand in mine and smiled at her and said, "Sweetheart, I'm not sure. It's possible but you do understand your mother is sick, don't you, and when adults are sick it's hard for them to travel (Lord, please forgive my lies to this child) and perhaps it's best if she didn't come down."
Without a sound she turned from me and held a steady gaze outside her window. A few minutes later she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. I tried a few times for a response. Nothing. I tried to tickle her, didn't work. The morning was gray and wet and I felt a sorrow so deep it almost made my bones ache. I hate this.
As we made our turn for her breakfast I tried again..."Little Bit, Papa's sorry. I really am. I love you." Reached over and stroked her face. "But remember, Honey, you'll have Papa and Nana and Dad, and your step-mother. It'll be a nice party.
Then, "She always lies to me, Papa. She always lies."
Sadly, she's correct.
I parked the truck and asked her if I could hold her for a while. She slowly, very slowly, came to my arms. I held her close, kissed her. We stayed that why for far too long. Our time is limited of mornings, but it was worth it.
She came around and as we walked inside the restaurant she was again all smiles and giggles.
It'll take me a little longer.
Stephen
Thanks & Welcome
To my new friend and follower, montanasmama. I promise to always answer your comments. Jerk a cup of coffee, pull up a chair and let's chat.
Again, thank you and welcome. You are now among friends.
Stephen
Stephen
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Pecans
Are so good. I've spent the last three hours with nutcracker in hand shelling several pounds of sweet Georgia pecans. It's tedious work. My right hand has had a good workout.
The market for shelled pecans in our region is $11.35 per pound. Remember, three hours of work.
I figure it took me ten minutes to eat about twenty-three dollars worth.
Ahh, so good.
Stephen
The market for shelled pecans in our region is $11.35 per pound. Remember, three hours of work.
Ahh, so good.
Stephen
Thanks & Welcome
To my surprise two nice ladies reached over and clicked my follower button and I thank and welcome you both.
The first is Peggy of Hidden Haven Homestead Too. She's a grandmother with two and half acres of land and raises various farm animals and a darn good writer...please, take a few minutes out of your busy schedule and run over and read. Give me a few minutes and I'll list her on my links.
Then we have Sue. Sue is a very good friend of our very own sweet kymber.
My new friends, I promise to always answer your comments. It might take me a few hours, or days, perhaps even a week or two (the case lately) but I shall answer...count on it.
Again, thank you each very much, and welcome. You are now among friends.
Stephen
The first is Peggy of Hidden Haven Homestead Too. She's a grandmother with two and half acres of land and raises various farm animals and a darn good writer...please, take a few minutes out of your busy schedule and run over and read. Give me a few minutes and I'll list her on my links.
Then we have Sue. Sue is a very good friend of our very own sweet kymber.
My new friends, I promise to always answer your comments. It might take me a few hours, or days, perhaps even a week or two (the case lately) but I shall answer...count on it.
Stephen
Tagged
By my friend, Mystic Mud. She must have it in for me...anyway, I'm supposed to answer five questions.
Here goes.
Question number one - If you could pick a super power, what would it be?
The ability to travel through time.
Question number two - If you could spend the day with someone (famous or not, still alive or not) who would it be?
Christ. Then again, he might whip my butt and send me home to try and live my life correctly the second time around. So, perhaps I should chose someone like Ernest Hemingway...we'd at least have Paris in common.
Question number three - have you ever won a contest, award, or prize.
Yes, many. I've won several in the martial arts. Two or three for other odd accomplishments, but my all time favorite was for my venison chili, a blue ribbon. Hey, it was two days of hard work.
Question number four - tell us something about yourself that we don't already know.
This is a tough one. I'm kinda private, believe it or not. Let's see....total blank here. Okay, I'm a hopeless romantic. A very devoted friend when you've gained my trust.
Then we come to - I dare you, no double dog dare you, to take a picture of your desk where you keep your computer and post it without cleaning the desk first.
Well, Mystic, I've done so several times already. But, since I'm still at home, I have no desk. So, let's see if I can find one of the old ones. Stand by.
Here you have it...my desk. Not cleaned. It's from a few months ago.
I wasn't requested to tag anyone, and I won't. Play if you like.
Stephen
Here goes.
Question number one - If you could pick a super power, what would it be?
The ability to travel through time.
Question number two - If you could spend the day with someone (famous or not, still alive or not) who would it be?
Christ. Then again, he might whip my butt and send me home to try and live my life correctly the second time around. So, perhaps I should chose someone like Ernest Hemingway...we'd at least have Paris in common.
Question number three - have you ever won a contest, award, or prize.
Yes, many. I've won several in the martial arts. Two or three for other odd accomplishments, but my all time favorite was for my venison chili, a blue ribbon. Hey, it was two days of hard work.
Question number four - tell us something about yourself that we don't already know.
This is a tough one. I'm kinda private, believe it or not. Let's see....total blank here. Okay, I'm a hopeless romantic. A very devoted friend when you've gained my trust.
Then we come to - I dare you, no double dog dare you, to take a picture of your desk where you keep your computer and post it without cleaning the desk first.
Well, Mystic, I've done so several times already. But, since I'm still at home, I have no desk. So, let's see if I can find one of the old ones. Stand by.
I wasn't requested to tag anyone, and I won't. Play if you like.
Stephen
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Noah At Least Had A Boat
Sorry for the lack of posts today. I was busy dealing with a broken main water line. It's been a long day and I'm tired. It was hard to sit in a chair and watch men work. It wore me out - really.
See you tomorrow and good night.
Stephen
Stephen
Thanks & Welcome
Another nice person hit my little blue button, sometime last night. My new friend and follower is Guffaw. He writes the great blog Guffaw in AZ. It's a daily must read of politics and firearms related issues. I highly recommend it. Please, drive on down and say hello.
My friend, I promise to always answer your comments. Don't be a stranger.
Again, thanks and welcome to my humble blog. You are now among friends.
Stephen
My friend, I promise to always answer your comments. Don't be a stranger.
Stephen
It's The Little Things
I pulled into my son's driveway and shut the truck off and waited. I was early. The engine ticked and pinged as it cooled under a light rain. It had been twenty days since I'd made this drive. When my watch said 0715 I walked to the front door and knocked.
She ran outside and screamed, "Papa." Then jumped into my arms.
She took me by my hand and walked me back to the truck and when inside she began to chant, "Me and Papa, Me and Papa." I smiled. We were back to normal.
"Papa."
"Yes, Sweetheart."
"Did Nana say you could come get me."
"Yes, Nana gave me permission. She said it'd be good for me and you."
"Nana's smart, isn't she Papa." Before I could answer (yes) she said, "I get a real breakfast this morning. Papa, I want a breakfast burrito and hash browns, and I want an apple pie too. Okay, Papa."
The rain intensified. She reached and took my hand. Her's was warm and soft. "Little Bit, what have you been eating for breakfast?"
"Poptarts."
"Just poptarts?"
"Yes, Papa, and they don't even warm them." Black thoughts on my mind...
I controlled my anger. It was too nice a morning and I had my Little Bit, and I was happy. Then, "Papa, can you pick me up after school?"
"Not today, Sweetheart. Maybe on Monday." She'd taken a book from her bag and was reading to me. She has a beautiful voice. "Okay, Papa."
After breakfast we're sitting in front of her school. She's in my lap. Then, "Papa are you finished being sick now?"
"Not completely, Honey, but Papa feels better." She smiled and gave me a few butterfly kisses. Then reached into her bag and and took out an envelope. "I made you a Valentine's Day card Papa. I got one for Nana too."
I read her card and thanked her and gave her a kiss. Then, she sat back and put on her waiting face. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I smiled and took her back into my arms. Said, "Honey, Papa hasn't had a chance to buy you a card yet, but I promise, on the way home I will."
Back at me she said, "Papa, it's okay. I know you love me and besides I get to spend Sunday night with you and then Monday too 'cause schools out and you know what?"
"What?"
"Monday's my birthday."
I'd forgotten.
I made a few stops on my way home.
Stephen
She ran outside and screamed, "Papa." Then jumped into my arms.
She took me by my hand and walked me back to the truck and when inside she began to chant, "Me and Papa, Me and Papa." I smiled. We were back to normal.
"Papa."
"Yes, Sweetheart."
"Did Nana say you could come get me."
"Yes, Nana gave me permission. She said it'd be good for me and you."
"Nana's smart, isn't she Papa." Before I could answer (yes) she said, "I get a real breakfast this morning. Papa, I want a breakfast burrito and hash browns, and I want an apple pie too. Okay, Papa."
The rain intensified. She reached and took my hand. Her's was warm and soft. "Little Bit, what have you been eating for breakfast?"
"Poptarts."
"Just poptarts?"
"Yes, Papa, and they don't even warm them." Black thoughts on my mind...
I controlled my anger. It was too nice a morning and I had my Little Bit, and I was happy. Then, "Papa, can you pick me up after school?"
"Not today, Sweetheart. Maybe on Monday." She'd taken a book from her bag and was reading to me. She has a beautiful voice. "Okay, Papa."
After breakfast we're sitting in front of her school. She's in my lap. Then, "Papa are you finished being sick now?"
"Not completely, Honey, but Papa feels better." She smiled and gave me a few butterfly kisses. Then reached into her bag and and took out an envelope. "I made you a Valentine's Day card Papa. I got one for Nana too."
I read her card and thanked her and gave her a kiss. Then, she sat back and put on her waiting face. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I smiled and took her back into my arms. Said, "Honey, Papa hasn't had a chance to buy you a card yet, but I promise, on the way home I will."
Back at me she said, "Papa, it's okay. I know you love me and besides I get to spend Sunday night with you and then Monday too 'cause schools out and you know what?"
"What?"
"Monday's my birthday."
I'd forgotten.
Stephen
Monday, February 13, 2012
Taurus Model 82
If any of you are in the market for a high quality handgun at a modest price J&G Sales has a boatload of European police/military surplus Taurus .38's at $149.95. This is a good deal my friends. These handguns are very similar to any K frame Smith.
You will, of course, need to ship thru you local friendly gun shop. Fees usually run around $25.00, or less.
She will arrive with either rubber or original wooden grips.
No, not a single nickle reaches my pocket for this public service announcement.
Stephen
You will, of course, need to ship thru you local friendly gun shop. Fees usually run around $25.00, or less.
Stephen
Survival Rifles; The Good, Bad and Ugly
Not my chipper self this morning. Muse is silent. It's been a while since I've posted any gun porn. I came across this selection of pictures this morning.
Above, this is someone's idea of a survival weapon. Sorry, but it's just wrong and ugly to boot. It's purpose? Beats the heck out of me.
Here's a little Henry .22 with a threaded barrel. A practical selection. I'd dump the scope. Nice sling.
Two Springfield Armory M6's...my choice. These are perfect for their intended purpose.
This is just so wrong....they're too ugly to shoot, much less own.
I have a doctor's appointment in a couple of hours...at least I'll be able to breath some fresh air. See you guys later.
Stephen
I have a doctor's appointment in a couple of hours...at least I'll be able to breath some fresh air. See you guys later.
Stephen
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Coffee and A Snack
Sweet Wife, as a treat for me being such a good boy this past week, baked a beautiful cranberry bread.
Warm from the oven.
Bet you wish you were me about now.
With a cup of Mark's great coffee I was in heaven. It doesn't guarantee I'll not try another escape later this week....
Stephen
With a cup of Mark's great coffee I was in heaven. It doesn't guarantee I'll not try another escape later this week....
Stephen
Saturday, February 11, 2012
It's The Little Things
Early this morning I awoke holding a beautiful young lady...her arms wrapped around me. Her head was snuggled into my right arm - her breath light and sweet. Her hair is long now and it fanned across my chest. I remained still, enjoyed the moment. It had been over a month since we'd last slept together. She, between the two of us.
I glanced over at Sweet Wife. She too was awake with a smile in her eyes, and gently whispered, "Nice, isn't it."
"Yes," I whispered back.
After breakfast she took me into our living room, moved the furniture, and gave me a lesson on the hoola-hoop. I took a video of her 'dance.' Wish I had the means to post it.
When the day nurse arrived, Little Bit took a position at my feet, and stroked my leg while the nurse worked. She quietly cried. I asked her to look away. She said, "No Papa, I need to help her."
In truth it was me she helped. Her presence is all the medication I need.
Photos taken this morning...
Stephen
After breakfast she took me into our living room, moved the furniture, and gave me a lesson on the hoola-hoop. I took a video of her 'dance.' Wish I had the means to post it.
When the day nurse arrived, Little Bit took a position at my feet, and stroked my leg while the nurse worked. She quietly cried. I asked her to look away. She said, "No Papa, I need to help her."
In truth it was me she helped. Her presence is all the medication I need.
Photos taken this morning...
Stephen
The "specialists" sent my daughter home yesterday to wait on another still birth. She is 27 weeks pregnant. Sebastian has a hole in his heart and a nearly microscopic aorta. He grew one ounce in the past two weeks. Weighs 15 ounces. Needs surgery within 8 hours after birth. Boston (we live in NC)will do the surgery if he weighs 32 ounces. All other hospitals say 3 pounds. Specialists are convinced he is not going to make it. Please ask your readers to continue praying. We need a miracle. Continuing to pray for your full recovery. Glad you are well. Hugs and kisses (tho I know you give them freely and often!) to Little Bit.
Mammaw B