I'll leave it alone, after this video.
Stephen
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Gold, part Deux
Just as an FYI.
5 year Gold comparison to S&P 500 |
 |
| Contrary to what the typical media and stock broker would have you believe, gold has out-performed the stock market and is poised for future throughout 2013. Black-Gold Performance, Red-S&P 500 Performance |
| Gold Discoveries through 2009 |
 |
| Even in 2012, gold discoveries are at an all-time low while demand is growing at a all-time high due to poor economic news and demand by growing countries such as China and India. This market pressure is the primary reason why gold will continue its rise through 2013.  Stephen |
Friday, April 27, 2012
Gold Fever
For many years I made monthly purchases of gold bullion coins. Usually a single American Eagle or Krugerrand but wasn't beyond sneaking the occasional Chinese Panda and odd Australian coin into the mix.
Then gold soared over nine hundred dollars an ounce and I turned to silver. I haven't purchased gold in over two or three years. Can't remember exactly how long it's been, doesn't matter, as the gold bug has taken another bite out of my butt.
I hit Ebay late this afternoon and shopped for a gold coin ring. It's for Sweet Wife. Our anniversary is next month and I'd like to find her a nice tenth ounce Krugerrand with either a fourteen or eighteen caret setting. Kill two birds with one stone.
She likes white gold, doesn't really care for yellow gold. If she doesn't like the ring, well shucks, I'll just put my new gold coin in the safe....
Stephen
Then gold soared over nine hundred dollars an ounce and I turned to silver. I haven't purchased gold in over two or three years. Can't remember exactly how long it's been, doesn't matter, as the gold bug has taken another bite out of my butt.
I hit Ebay late this afternoon and shopped for a gold coin ring. It's for Sweet Wife. Our anniversary is next month and I'd like to find her a nice tenth ounce Krugerrand with either a fourteen or eighteen caret setting. Kill two birds with one stone.
She likes white gold, doesn't really care for yellow gold. If she doesn't like the ring, well shucks, I'll just put my new gold coin in the safe....
Stephen
Thursday, April 26, 2012
The Survival Doctor
I came across this website while at AR-15. Check it out.
Snippet:
Someone on the Homestead Survival Facebook page asked me, if there’s no way to get to a doctor, how does a person get rid of pinworms? Good question. There are plenty of home remedies, but there’s little objective proof they work.
Yes, he's a real doctor.
(stupid bold font)
Stephen
Snippet:
Someone on the Homestead Survival Facebook page asked me, if there’s no way to get to a doctor, how does a person get rid of pinworms? Good question. There are plenty of home remedies, but there’s little objective proof they work.
Yes, he's a real doctor.
(stupid bold font)
Stephen
The Addiction
An addict, as defined by Webster, is one who has a confirmed habit.
Today a good friend came in and we chatted for a while, he more than me. Asked about his family. Said they were fine, healthy. Then he said he had a problem with his youngest daughter. I'll call her Missy.
Went on to explain, Missy, liked to text. I said, so what. Then he pulled out his phone bill. It's the current months charges. My friend and his wife both had about three hundred minutes of text usage. Missy had nineteen thousand minutes. That's 19,000 minutes.
Do the math. She's twelve years old.
I understand she takes a shower on occasion.
He asked what he should do. They've tried everything. I said, first throw the phone in the trash. Second, buy her a few books and then a rifle.
It wouldn't work. She's an addict.
Stephen
Today a good friend came in and we chatted for a while, he more than me. Asked about his family. Said they were fine, healthy. Then he said he had a problem with his youngest daughter. I'll call her Missy.
Went on to explain, Missy, liked to text. I said, so what. Then he pulled out his phone bill. It's the current months charges. My friend and his wife both had about three hundred minutes of text usage. Missy had nineteen thousand minutes. That's 19,000 minutes.
Do the math. She's twelve years old.
I understand she takes a shower on occasion.
He asked what he should do. They've tried everything. I said, first throw the phone in the trash. Second, buy her a few books and then a rifle.
It wouldn't work. She's an addict.
Stephen
Bits & Pieces
This post will probably take at least four hours to write. It's just the nature of things and business of late. Not sure why but the shops traffic has increased dramatically. It's a good thing, as Martha Stewart likes to say.
Our morning weather, this week, has been on the cool side. I really enjoy it. I've a habit, each morning, of jerking my first cup of coffee and taking it outside the shops back door under the oaks to soak in the peaceful atmosphere of squirrel play and birdsong. The fresh air adds flavor; perhaps that's why the first cup of coffee always taste best.
Yesterday Little Bit made me promise to take her to Starbucks for breakfast. We chose this morning to do so. Inside she quickly discovered they only offered pastry. Their drink selections were, of course, limited. Finally, after making the folks behind us restless, she chose two tiny pink and chocolate doughnuts and a very small container of organic apple juice. She didn't like their limited breakfast menu. She looked at the cashier and told her, "Why don't you serve pancakes, this sucks." Don't piss off little hungry girls...
I didn't say a word. I did chuckle.
We sat outside. It was cool. She didn't like that either. We gathered her 'breakfast' and drink and proceeded to my truck. She didn't like that one darn bit, either. Finally, "Papa, this was a very bad idea and don't you ever make me eat at Starbucks again."
I said, "Yes, Dear." Sometimes the grass isn't always greener.
Last evening Sweet Wife came home with her laptop. Not a good sign. She gulped down our simple dinner and, without a word, set her laptop and two of our spare monitors on the kitchen table and didn't move until 0400 this morning.
This doesn't bode well for the bond markets. Just saying....
Now, I've a request. SciFiChick, a lovely lady, needs help. Please, take a moment and click the link and run by and read her post. If you feel you can spare a few dollars, any amount will help, hit her donation button. I know times are hard and cash is very dear, but any amount towards the cause will be greatly appreciated. Even a kind comment and prayer will bring a little light into her life. Thank you.
Want to read a good book...I thought so. Then find a copy of 'Jesus Out to Sea,' by James Lee Burke. He's the dude in the above picture. James is probably the best prose stylist in America today. I don't care a bit for his politics, but none the less, the man can write. Jesus Out to Sea is a story collection, short stories that grip the gut. Trust me.
I'd link the book but haven't the time. The shop's bell rings and waits for no man.
Until then,
Stephen
Our morning weather, this week, has been on the cool side. I really enjoy it. I've a habit, each morning, of jerking my first cup of coffee and taking it outside the shops back door under the oaks to soak in the peaceful atmosphere of squirrel play and birdsong. The fresh air adds flavor; perhaps that's why the first cup of coffee always taste best.
Yesterday Little Bit made me promise to take her to Starbucks for breakfast. We chose this morning to do so. Inside she quickly discovered they only offered pastry. Their drink selections were, of course, limited. Finally, after making the folks behind us restless, she chose two tiny pink and chocolate doughnuts and a very small container of organic apple juice. She didn't like their limited breakfast menu. She looked at the cashier and told her, "Why don't you serve pancakes, this sucks." Don't piss off little hungry girls...
I didn't say a word. I did chuckle.
We sat outside. It was cool. She didn't like that either. We gathered her 'breakfast' and drink and proceeded to my truck. She didn't like that one darn bit, either. Finally, "Papa, this was a very bad idea and don't you ever make me eat at Starbucks again."
I said, "Yes, Dear." Sometimes the grass isn't always greener.
Last evening Sweet Wife came home with her laptop. Not a good sign. She gulped down our simple dinner and, without a word, set her laptop and two of our spare monitors on the kitchen table and didn't move until 0400 this morning.
This doesn't bode well for the bond markets. Just saying....
Now, I've a request. SciFiChick, a lovely lady, needs help. Please, take a moment and click the link and run by and read her post. If you feel you can spare a few dollars, any amount will help, hit her donation button. I know times are hard and cash is very dear, but any amount towards the cause will be greatly appreciated. Even a kind comment and prayer will bring a little light into her life. Thank you.
Want to read a good book...I thought so. Then find a copy of 'Jesus Out to Sea,' by James Lee Burke. He's the dude in the above picture. James is probably the best prose stylist in America today. I don't care a bit for his politics, but none the less, the man can write. Jesus Out to Sea is a story collection, short stories that grip the gut. Trust me.
I'd link the book but haven't the time. The shop's bell rings and waits for no man.
Until then,
Stephen
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
It's The Little Things
This morning when she walked from her father's house she was as cute as a button. She wore her school logo sweatshirt, her dark blue skorts with very colorful leggings. Her school shoes had a shine. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail and she carried a pillow pet. Purple. She walked directly to my leg and gave it my morning hug.
It was a morning for questions.
In the truck and down the road, "Papa, did you remember to bring my snacks?"
"Yes, Honey, Papa remembered."
"Rice Krispie Treats," I said yes. She squeals in delight. It's the little things...
When I turn the nose of the truck towards the sunrise, she takes her rose colored sunglasses (really, rose tinted) and puts them on and takes my arm and places it on her pillow pet, just so. I asked why she liked my arm, just so. "Because it makes me feel good, Papa." I love this child.
Along the marsh the ducks and geese, as is their morning routine, move from the lake towards the river and we count their numbers. "Papa, why can't birds fly in reverse?"
"They can, Little Bit."
"How?"
"They just point their noses in the opposite direction."
"Oh." Then, after a few moments of thought, "Papa, that's just silly."
I agreed.
Soon we approach the second of two bridges, a special bridge. The pavement at the foot of the bridge has a slight rise and forms a 'fun' bump. When the bump is hit at the proper speed it gives one that slight 'belly drop' sensation. Little Bit loves it. Thing is, she always covers her face and never actually watches as we ride over the bump.
"Here it comes. Get ready."
She places her face deep into the pillow pet and begins an endless series of giggles. "Go fast, Papa, go fast."
Afterward, as her squeals of delight fade, "Papa, why does it make my tummy feel good?"
"Because, Honey, there's a little man in your tummy and when your tummy floats he reaches and tickles the bottom of your belly button."
Silence. Then a smile.
Then a frown.
In one rapid outburst, "Papa, what is debt? Because Daddy said he's got to go into debt and him and mommy fought about it last night and he made me go to my room and I didn't like it cause they screamed at each other and I cried, Papa."
Sigh.
"Little Bit."
She has her head back on the pillow pet, her friend, with her arms locked around mine. We're close to our destination. It was, such a nice morning.
"What, Papa."
I explained debt, and continued, "Do you know why Daddy must go into debt?"
"They had a leak in their bedroom last week when it rained, Papa, and the rain leaked real bad and came down on their ceiling fan and the fan took the rain and slung the water all around in a big circle in the bedroom and soaked their bed, and they made me sleep on the couch and they took my bed, Papa, and I didn't like it."
She took a deep breath. She gives me her big brown eyes, and waits.
"So, you were able to camp out." She blinks. Then, "Oh, yeah, I did."
"Don't feel bad about Daddy sending you to your room, Sweetheart. When parents argue they forget about their children and seem to always ask them to go to their bedrooms. You're not in trouble. Mommy and Daddy just have a problem which will cost them a lot of money. Don't worry about it. Papa will help."
"Papa."
"What, Honey."
" Thank you, Papa, but I still need to know why birds can't fly in reverse."
I'll think of an answer, soon.
Stephen
It was a morning for questions.
In the truck and down the road, "Papa, did you remember to bring my snacks?"
"Yes, Honey, Papa remembered."
"Rice Krispie Treats," I said yes. She squeals in delight. It's the little things...
When I turn the nose of the truck towards the sunrise, she takes her rose colored sunglasses (really, rose tinted) and puts them on and takes my arm and places it on her pillow pet, just so. I asked why she liked my arm, just so. "Because it makes me feel good, Papa." I love this child.
Along the marsh the ducks and geese, as is their morning routine, move from the lake towards the river and we count their numbers. "Papa, why can't birds fly in reverse?"
"They can, Little Bit."
"How?"
"They just point their noses in the opposite direction."
"Oh." Then, after a few moments of thought, "Papa, that's just silly."
I agreed.
Soon we approach the second of two bridges, a special bridge. The pavement at the foot of the bridge has a slight rise and forms a 'fun' bump. When the bump is hit at the proper speed it gives one that slight 'belly drop' sensation. Little Bit loves it. Thing is, she always covers her face and never actually watches as we ride over the bump.
"Here it comes. Get ready."
She places her face deep into the pillow pet and begins an endless series of giggles. "Go fast, Papa, go fast."
Afterward, as her squeals of delight fade, "Papa, why does it make my tummy feel good?"
"Because, Honey, there's a little man in your tummy and when your tummy floats he reaches and tickles the bottom of your belly button."
Silence. Then a smile.
Then a frown.
In one rapid outburst, "Papa, what is debt? Because Daddy said he's got to go into debt and him and mommy fought about it last night and he made me go to my room and I didn't like it cause they screamed at each other and I cried, Papa."
Sigh.
"Little Bit."
She has her head back on the pillow pet, her friend, with her arms locked around mine. We're close to our destination. It was, such a nice morning.
"What, Papa."
I explained debt, and continued, "Do you know why Daddy must go into debt?"
"They had a leak in their bedroom last week when it rained, Papa, and the rain leaked real bad and came down on their ceiling fan and the fan took the rain and slung the water all around in a big circle in the bedroom and soaked their bed, and they made me sleep on the couch and they took my bed, Papa, and I didn't like it."
She took a deep breath. She gives me her big brown eyes, and waits.
"So, you were able to camp out." She blinks. Then, "Oh, yeah, I did."
"Don't feel bad about Daddy sending you to your room, Sweetheart. When parents argue they forget about their children and seem to always ask them to go to their bedrooms. You're not in trouble. Mommy and Daddy just have a problem which will cost them a lot of money. Don't worry about it. Papa will help."
"Papa."
"What, Honey."
" Thank you, Papa, but I still need to know why birds can't fly in reverse."
I'll think of an answer, soon.
Stephen
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
This Old Gun
This pretty piece belongs to my good friend, ShooterSteve. I thought you nice men and lovely women would like to try and identify its make and caliber.
Above, the small handgun used for size comparison only.
Above, look closely at the hammer. See the pin.
The first person to identify the pistol gets one big 'attagirl' or 'attaboy.'
Have fun.
Stephen
Above, the small handgun used for size comparison only.
Above, look closely at the hammer. See the pin.
The first person to identify the pistol gets one big 'attagirl' or 'attaboy.'
Have fun.
Stephen
Monday, April 23, 2012
Tomorrow, for sure
I'll post something. It's been two hard days filled with doctor visits and family hanging around my house driving me nuts. Love 'em, but enough is enough.
Spent the afternoon with Little Bit. She wore me out. I'll tell you about it in the morning if I have time. Now, I believe I'll listen to my old radio for a while then hit the sack and try and find dreamland.
By the way, Little Bit owes me ten 'slurpee' kisses and fifteen hugs...
I do have a gun post in mind. Another mystery challenge.
Later,
Stephen
Spent the afternoon with Little Bit. She wore me out. I'll tell you about it in the morning if I have time. Now, I believe I'll listen to my old radio for a while then hit the sack and try and find dreamland.
By the way, Little Bit owes me ten 'slurpee' kisses and fifteen hugs...
I do have a gun post in mind. Another mystery challenge.
Later,
Stephen
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Isn't It The Truth
Shoe, one of my all time favorites.
Stephen
Saturday, April 21, 2012
The Omelette and The Wife
After the rain I took a walk around the yard and brushed against one of my rosemary bushes. The rich scent tagged and followed me for the rest of my stroll. For some odd reason it triggered my need for a nice hot omelette. I return and snip off a couple of sprigs.
In the kitchen I set to work. I slice a small section of red onion, take a couple of tablespoons of Ricotta cheese, the rosemary and after I chop the onion and rosemary very fine, whip in six eggs. Add kosher salt and a nice amount of pepper. Not a mushroom in the house but you make do with what's available.
Sweet Wife's at the kitchen table with her laptop and two monitors. She's hard at work. She doesn't do, kitchens. Can't boil water. She has other gifts.
I place butter in my skillet and whip the egg mixture. It smells good. When the butter is hot I pour the egg mixture and the kitchen is filled with the aroma of onion and rosemary.
Sweet Wife, from around the corner, "What are you doing in there?"
Me, all smartass, "Cooking."
"I know that, but what are you cooking?"
"An omelette, I'm hungry." Let's face facts - one can only eat so much tree bark and grass. Diets suck.
Tap, tap, tap. Shuffle of chair. She walks into my kitchen. Stands quietly against my shoulder. She smells good too.
Sniff, sniff. Then, "That smells wonderful. How in the world do you cook like this, Honey."
"Beats me, I just do. And, I know. It does smell good doesn't it."
Silence.
"I'm hungry too."
Me, again, all quiet and stoic.
Then, "Honey, I love you."
"I know, and I love you, too."
Wait, I said to myself, here it comes.
"May I have some omelette too?"
"Not sure there's enough. I only had six eggs."
This, is fun.
Then she gets serious..."Honey."
"Yes, Dear."
"If you know what's good for you you'll give me half."
I know what's good for me.
Stephen
In the kitchen I set to work. I slice a small section of red onion, take a couple of tablespoons of Ricotta cheese, the rosemary and after I chop the onion and rosemary very fine, whip in six eggs. Add kosher salt and a nice amount of pepper. Not a mushroom in the house but you make do with what's available.
Sweet Wife's at the kitchen table with her laptop and two monitors. She's hard at work. She doesn't do, kitchens. Can't boil water. She has other gifts.
I place butter in my skillet and whip the egg mixture. It smells good. When the butter is hot I pour the egg mixture and the kitchen is filled with the aroma of onion and rosemary.
Sweet Wife, from around the corner, "What are you doing in there?"
Me, all smartass, "Cooking."
"I know that, but what are you cooking?"
"An omelette, I'm hungry." Let's face facts - one can only eat so much tree bark and grass. Diets suck.
Tap, tap, tap. Shuffle of chair. She walks into my kitchen. Stands quietly against my shoulder. She smells good too.
Sniff, sniff. Then, "That smells wonderful. How in the world do you cook like this, Honey."
"Beats me, I just do. And, I know. It does smell good doesn't it."
Silence.
"I'm hungry too."
Me, again, all quiet and stoic.
Then, "Honey, I love you."
"I know, and I love you, too."
Wait, I said to myself, here it comes.
"May I have some omelette too?"
"Not sure there's enough. I only had six eggs."
This, is fun.
"Yes, Dear."
"If you know what's good for you you'll give me half."
I know what's good for me.
Stephen
Flavor
I shall spend our stormy and wet afternoon with one of my favorite magazines.
This months issue is dedicated to bread baking. Since I can't bake worth a flip it should prove to be interesting.
Guess I'm just hungry.
Stephen
This months issue is dedicated to bread baking. Since I can't bake worth a flip it should prove to be interesting.
Guess I'm just hungry.
Stephen
Friday, April 20, 2012
It's Early
I took a walk this morning about 0300, and have since had my fill of the news. Just wanted to let you guys know I'm sorry for the lack of attention to this blog. Still have problems with sleep.
Tried to write yesterday and my muse failed me. She's a fickle little girl, Miss Muse.
See you nice folks later today.
Stephen
Tried to write yesterday and my muse failed me. She's a fickle little girl, Miss Muse.
Stephen
Thursday, April 19, 2012
The One Hundred Yard Challenge
I like this 'ole boy. I also like the fact he took his challenge only using a bi-pod, but feel its still cheating. Too many use the crutch of a bench rest and sand bags to shoot. A rifleman should be able to hit this target from the standing position. Then again, he's shooting for a personal score. Why be picky.
Stephen
Stephen
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Bits & Pieces
In honor of Mrs. S., I've just switched on my coffeemaker.
Our weatherjerk has forecast rain and I'm prepared. I've a good book (One Second After, my third or forth reading) and it seems a quiet day to relax. I'm at work, but after a day like yesterday where the action was none stop and a few days after payday, I think it'll be slow around here today.
I do have a couple of long pieces to write. These memories have haunted me for weeks and I need to get them recorded while they're still fresh in my mind. Trouble is, I like to write when I'm certain I'll not be disturbed, which isn't possible here at the shop.
Someone will always walk in and flop down and want to talk. I'm not good at idle chit-chat. Some even call me reserved, too quiet. So be it. Anyhow, maybe I'll write a longer piece today. I always hammer my pieces out. Never a draft, just write as the words pour from my mind. Not an easy process. I seldom if ever edit, and that tells on me. So, we'll see how it goes today.
I have a working title for one of the pieces. South Moon Under. Don't steal it or I will track you down. I'll find 'ya and smack 'ya one. One or two of you might have read Majorie Kinnan Rawling's novel of the same title. It was one of my favorite books as a young man. Its setting was but a few miles from my current home. If you haven't as yet read the book, you're missing something wonderful. It is available in Kindle edition.
The piece I hope to write, of course, will be very different and from memory, if my muse allows. It isn't pretty. As I've written in the past, memories are killing.
Little Bit was very chipper this morning. She will attend the zoo today (they should be there now) with her class and her step-mother as one of their chaperons. She bounced in her seat and had the biggest smile planted on her face...."Papa, we get to eat a sack lunch. It's wonderful, Papa. A real sack lunch."
Hey, it's the little things.
"Papa, do you like the zoo?"
Game time.
"No, Honey, Papa doesn't like the zoo."
"Why not?" She turns to me and puts on one of her pouts. "You and Nana take me all the time."
I waited for an adjustment to my driving and glanced over and smiled and said, "Cause, it stinks, and its always hot and its expensive and the snacks cost far too much and the zoo doesn't allow Papa to shoot the critters for practice. That's why."
Big brown eyes stare back at me. She crinkles up her face and her mouth falls open. I've moved to the left lane and watch a truck cut me off. I'm smiling, inside. I chance a quick look her way. It's working.
"Papa."
"What, Honey."
"You're mean."
"Ah, Little Bit, Papa isn't mean. Seriously, wouldn't it be fun to ride the zoo train with our rifles and as we come upon the cages of animals select a target and bag some fresh meat."
Sometimes, mind you, I go a wee bit far with my jokes.
"Oh, Papa." She began to cry. Oops.
"Honey."
She's turned face towards her window and ignores me. I reach and gently rub her little shoulders and say, "Sweetheart, Papa was just joking."
Cheerful and chipper mood dispelled.
After we've reached our destination I parked and reach and pulled her into my arms. I felt awful. I explained I was just making fun, joking. She finally understood and forgave me. I helped her apply her 'lipstick.' Fake stuff her Nana gave her for Christmas. Then, "Papa."
"Yes, Honey."
"You'd never really hurt the Zoo animals would you. You really mean it when you said it was a joke, didn't you, Papa."
"Of course, my sweet little girl, of course."
She went to school with a smile.
I'm a good Papa....
Stephen
Our weatherjerk has forecast rain and I'm prepared. I've a good book (One Second After, my third or forth reading) and it seems a quiet day to relax. I'm at work, but after a day like yesterday where the action was none stop and a few days after payday, I think it'll be slow around here today.
I do have a couple of long pieces to write. These memories have haunted me for weeks and I need to get them recorded while they're still fresh in my mind. Trouble is, I like to write when I'm certain I'll not be disturbed, which isn't possible here at the shop.
Someone will always walk in and flop down and want to talk. I'm not good at idle chit-chat. Some even call me reserved, too quiet. So be it. Anyhow, maybe I'll write a longer piece today. I always hammer my pieces out. Never a draft, just write as the words pour from my mind. Not an easy process. I seldom if ever edit, and that tells on me. So, we'll see how it goes today.
I have a working title for one of the pieces. South Moon Under. Don't steal it or I will track you down. I'll find 'ya and smack 'ya one. One or two of you might have read Majorie Kinnan Rawling's novel of the same title. It was one of my favorite books as a young man. Its setting was but a few miles from my current home. If you haven't as yet read the book, you're missing something wonderful. It is available in Kindle edition.
Little Bit was very chipper this morning. She will attend the zoo today (they should be there now) with her class and her step-mother as one of their chaperons. She bounced in her seat and had the biggest smile planted on her face...."Papa, we get to eat a sack lunch. It's wonderful, Papa. A real sack lunch."
Hey, it's the little things.
"Papa, do you like the zoo?"
Game time.
"No, Honey, Papa doesn't like the zoo."
"Why not?" She turns to me and puts on one of her pouts. "You and Nana take me all the time."
I waited for an adjustment to my driving and glanced over and smiled and said, "Cause, it stinks, and its always hot and its expensive and the snacks cost far too much and the zoo doesn't allow Papa to shoot the critters for practice. That's why."
Big brown eyes stare back at me. She crinkles up her face and her mouth falls open. I've moved to the left lane and watch a truck cut me off. I'm smiling, inside. I chance a quick look her way. It's working.
"Papa."
"What, Honey."
"You're mean."
"Ah, Little Bit, Papa isn't mean. Seriously, wouldn't it be fun to ride the zoo train with our rifles and as we come upon the cages of animals select a target and bag some fresh meat."
Sometimes, mind you, I go a wee bit far with my jokes.
"Oh, Papa." She began to cry. Oops.
"Honey."
She's turned face towards her window and ignores me. I reach and gently rub her little shoulders and say, "Sweetheart, Papa was just joking."
Cheerful and chipper mood dispelled.
After we've reached our destination I parked and reach and pulled her into my arms. I felt awful. I explained I was just making fun, joking. She finally understood and forgave me. I helped her apply her 'lipstick.' Fake stuff her Nana gave her for Christmas. Then, "Papa."
"Yes, Honey."
"You'd never really hurt the Zoo animals would you. You really mean it when you said it was a joke, didn't you, Papa."
"Of course, my sweet little girl, of course."
She went to school with a smile.
Stephen
Thanks & Welcome
What a nice surprise to open my blog this morning and find a new friend has hit my follower button. Her name is Heidi and if my eyesight doesn't yet fail me it appears she has two beautiful little girls...the picture is kinda small.
Thanks, Heidi. I promise to always answer your comments. Give those little ones a kiss for me. Children are my weakness.
Again, thanks and welcome. You are now among friends.
Stephen
Thanks, Heidi. I promise to always answer your comments. Give those little ones a kiss for me. Children are my weakness.
Again, thanks and welcome. You are now among friends.
Stephen
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
It's Late Afternoon
And I'm too busy to write. Sorry. I've tried several times to sit and smack out some kind of post and as soon as I place hands on keyboard the bell to my shop rings.
Maybe later this evening.
The fact I've had but one cup of coffee today should tell you how I feel.
Stephen
Maybe later this evening.
Stephen
Monday, April 16, 2012
Thanks & Welcome
To my two new friends and followers, Mazie and Rynk. My friends, I promise to always answer any comment left on this blog. It takes a few hours, and at times, a day or two, but rest assured I will reply. If for any reason I miss your comment let me know and I'll correct the oversight.
To my other kind followers and friends, please take a moment and say hello to our two new friends.
Again, thanks and welcome. You are now among friends.
Stephen
To my other kind followers and friends, please take a moment and say hello to our two new friends.
Stephen
Sunday, April 15, 2012
After Action Report
With birdsong and a gentle warm breeze we pulled into the Boar's Nest and unloaded, we three friends. Three of us absent, unfortunately. A moment after I stepped from my truck I heard a hawk let loose a scream, somewhere out over the river. It was nice to be back after three months.
The horse greeted us. He's a future asset.
We three unloaded our gear and set to our task; a simple but necessary little job. Afterwards ShooterSteve assembled a small table he'd donated to the group for the bunkhouse.
The silence of the countryside was, at least to me, a peaceful and welcome change from the constant noise of the city. I remember Duke quietly commented, "I'd move here if possible."
Moments later he took broom in hand and began to sweep the deck. The pines dump tons of needles and twigs between our visits.
Above, after lunch it was range time. The river is just beyond the tree line.
Above, one of two pieces Duke brought along to wring out. Number two below.
I set them atop my ammo can for the snapshot. Now, for bonus points, whom among you can tell me which is the oldest. If you guess, give me the years of manufacture. The winner gets an all expense trip to our shooting range courtesy of Duke. (if you believe me I have a bridge for sale.)
The horse greeted us. He's a future asset.
We three unloaded our gear and set to our task; a simple but necessary little job. Afterwards ShooterSteve assembled a small table he'd donated to the group for the bunkhouse.
The silence of the countryside was, at least to me, a peaceful and welcome change from the constant noise of the city. I remember Duke quietly commented, "I'd move here if possible."
Moments later he took broom in hand and began to sweep the deck. The pines dump tons of needles and twigs between our visits.
The Boar's Nest now has power, and behold, lights.
Above, one of two pieces Duke brought along to wring out. Number two below.
I set them atop my ammo can for the snapshot. Now, for bonus points, whom among you can tell me which is the oldest. If you guess, give me the years of manufacture. The winner gets an all expense trip to our shooting range courtesy of Duke. (if you believe me I have a bridge for sale.)
We compared weapons, spoke of friends and times past. Listened to an owl and the wind sing and enjoyed each the others company. I took a seat in the shade and watched two of my best friends and felt very privileged to have another chance to share such a fine day. They always make me smile. Below I, by accident, captured a silhouette of my best friend, Duke, as he examines an old rifle found by ShooterSteve.
Above, Duke decides to shoot a wild charging target stick. He did hit it. Later he took this same handgun, placed it on a rolled towel as a rest, and put six shots into one tiny spot on his target. The old revolver proved quite accurate.
At Noon our friend, Senior Chief, released from duty by his lovely wife, JUGM, joined the fun. He arrived to find me gone. I had duties at home too. And, truth be known, I haven't regained all my strength. I hate weakness. Still, it was a nice day.
I came home to this:
Taken a few minutes after I arrived. If anyone has questions why we train and prep as hard as we do, there in deep sleep, is your answer...
Have a great day.
Stephen
Friday, April 13, 2012
Slinging Lead
The Duke and I have a date with our friends to burn powder and sling lead tomorrow out at our retreat. After Senior Chief is released by is cute wife, Jacked Up Glock Mom, he might join us. We're not sure yet if she'll allow it.
We'll do a few chores on the Boar's Nest then hit our private firing range. Should be fun. It's been a while since I've had the smell of gun powder in my nostrils. Can't wait.
It's a given I'll take along one of my AR's and a couple of Glocks. Maybe, just maybe, a 1911...not sure.
I'll try and take pictures.
These are file photos. I'm not about to hobble into our office and open a safe just for a picture...
I should dig out my M1A and let her stretch her legs but have you priced good surplus ammo lately. She'll stay securely tucked away in the gunsafe.
Perhaps I should take a couple of revolvers. I've many from which to choose. Decisions, decisions.
Again, the price of ammunition paints my thoughts when I think about unleashing my Raging Bull.
Whatever baby I decide to take for a ride I'm sure it'll be enjoyable to shoot. Come on down and join us.
See 'ya late tomorrow.
Stephen
We'll do a few chores on the Boar's Nest then hit our private firing range. Should be fun. It's been a while since I've had the smell of gun powder in my nostrils. Can't wait.
It's a given I'll take along one of my AR's and a couple of Glocks. Maybe, just maybe, a 1911...not sure.
I'll try and take pictures.
I should dig out my M1A and let her stretch her legs but have you priced good surplus ammo lately. She'll stay securely tucked away in the gunsafe.
Again, the price of ammunition paints my thoughts when I think about unleashing my Raging Bull.
Whatever baby I decide to take for a ride I'm sure it'll be enjoyable to shoot. Come on down and join us.
See 'ya late tomorrow.
Stephen