Welcome Aboard

I owe a long overdue thanks and welcome to three new followers. First to my friend, Wellseasonedfool writer of the blog with the same title. Second to a man whose work I've followed for years, Carteach. This morning I had another hit and would like to welcome, Dean L., author of the great political blog, Nonsensible Shoes.

Gentlemen, thank you and welcome. I promise to always reply to your comments.

To the rest of my friends, these three men write very interesting blogs. For all things firearms related, click Carteach, he has years of experience and there is a wealth of information stored in his archives. For fun and a laugh, give our friend, Wellseasonedfool a try, and like I mentioned above, run over to Dean for our kind of politics.

Again, thank you and welcome. You are now among friends.

Stephen

The In Between

If you've ever served the public you are aware business arrives in waves, surges. As much as I love monetary infusions it's those brief lulls I like the best - the in between of silence. Like now.

If I sit still and cease this tapping of the keyboard my mind is filled with ticks. I have three clocks in the shop. Two in my office and a third on the main floor. One is located directly behind my head upon a low shelf. Its an old Westclock of cream with a gold band around its face, a Big Ben model of unknown vintage. I give her a twist twice a day, gently. She's load.

Between me and the main floor, just above and in front of my desk hangs another large faced clock, a gift from a now deceased friend. I don't like it, yet there it hangs with its moment by moment indications of time. Its face has birds instead of numerals. A House Wren is forever preached at 1600. I'm locked between the Audubon monstrosity and the grace of the classic Westclock.

So here I sit between the tick, tick, tick. If I listen carefully the lone timepiece from the shop's floor intrudes too. Its white dial is fed daily by signals far away. It keeps perfect time. She keeps a steady beat, the drummer to a band of three, as each marks the moment to the end of my life.  

Stephen

My Day Off

I promised, yesterday, I'd write today. Made a liar of myself. This is my day off and here I am at work. I just can't catch a break. Business has been steady since I opened the door.

So, in the meantime click, here. You will not be disappointed. This young man can write.

Chris has also written a book. When I have a chance I'll download it to my Kindle. I recommend you do the same.

Big hat tip to, Tam.

From under the rain in Florida, stay safe out there.

Stephen

A Blast From the Past

Want to read a fine investment article...one that deals with firearms and ammunition as a hedge against inflation? Good, sally forth.

I've preached the same practice for years. My friend, carteach0 hit one out of the park. The blog post was written a few years ago but stands the test of time. Trust me.

Stephen

Home

I arrived home a few hours ago. Unloaded the gear, nice long hot shower, quick nap. The guys and I had a nice but wet weekend. I'll write about it tomorrow.

For now I shall enjoy the company of my lovely wife. I also have three Cornish game hens that require my attention.

To my two new followers, thank you. I will post a proper welcome soon.

Keep an eye on Duke's blog. He will soon blog with a review of a pop-up target we tried our best to destroy. Should be an interesting article.

Until tomorrow, take care.

Stephen

LightHeaded

I was late for work this morning.

Sleep eluded me until just after 0300. I'd barely closed my eyes when I felt a light touch and reality again slapped me in the face.

Record time with the shave and toothpaste, a slap of Old Spice, and I'm out the door.

Inside the shop I flipped switches and filled the till with cash and jerked a cup of coffee and with newspaper in hand I settled back to read. Granted I was a bit woozy, distracted, and chalked it to my lack of rest but I also felt as if I'd forgotten something important.

Five or six minutes into the newspaper I reached for my coffee and it hit me. My belt seemed wrong. I reached around. I forgotten both of my spare magazines. Trivial granted. Still, it bugged me to death.

It must be understood I've carried concealed for many years, probably longer than many of you have been potty trained. So long in fact I felt as if I'd left behind my right leg.

No worries. Tomorrow I will sit around a camp fire and relax, and shoot, and chew the fat with my friends.

Besides, my piece holds twelve rounds. If I can't hit the target (or some booger) with twelve rounds I might as well take a seat on the sofa and watch ball games with the rest of the hoople-heads. 


Lord, I'm getting old...

Stephen




 

Tickled Pink

It has arrived.

Me, all happy and stuff.

Stephen

I Need

I need to write, something.

Business is good but leaves little time for the blog. Many, I'm sure, have noticed my lack of comments on your blogs. Trust me, I haven't forgotten you.

After work this evening I must gather, sort, and pack my gear for the group weekend, after a quick market trip for a very large custom cut T-bone steak. The steak should ride in marinade for two nights and when I arrive at camp it shall be gently kissed by oak coals. Let the rest eat burgers...

Selections have been made for the range. At present I've selected two rifles and two handguns but these numbers might change according to my whims. I hope, hope, hope my order of .32-20 arrives from Midway before Saturday morning. Much depends upon it. I checked and haven't a single round in my stores. I'm a slacker.

The weathercritter has guessed rain for Saturday night. Fine with me as long as it holds until we kill the fire and hit our sacks. Rain on a tin roof pleases me.

If, I spot a deer I shall have a breakfast of venison loin. Deer range over the fields after darkness gives them the false sense of security. I have a nice bright flashlight. I know, I'm a bad boy. Get over it.

Sorry, gotta run.

This is me writing, something.

Stephen

Tomorrow

I hear the wind whisper. The small palm, just outside my office window, gently scrapes it fronds against the screen and it's an eerie sound, yet soothing. The shop is quiet. Swear I just heard a mouse fart.

Sorry for the long absence. No excuses. I just needed a break. As many of you know firearms are my first love - as far as a hobby, but if push came to shove books might edge out firearms. I've taken the last few days, in between chores at home, to read. Once I've taken the dive into a books pages I often find myself lost to all other distractions, and as a result, the blog suffers.

The mood around my home has suffered too. Tomorrow is her birthday. She'll turn eight. We've missed nine (almost ten) months of her seventh year. Yesterday we tried to shop for her birthday. Notice I wrote, tried. We have little information towards likes, dislikes, sizes, needs. Has she outgrown certain toys. Has her taste in dress changed over the last few months. Her foot size is now a mystery to us. And, the most important question of all - does she still care about us.

Influence, if applied directly and with enough force can indeed alter young minds.

With the above in mind, we shopped. She owns a gameboy (at least I believe its called a gameboy) so if she's allowed to accept our gifts she'll have two new games, and other little bits and pieces selected by her Nana. I purchased her a few age appropriate books.

(Edit: Sweet Wife insisted I correct 'gameboy' to 'DS.' Done...now perhaps she'll get off my back.)

It's been a dark weekend.

*****

Yesterday I cleaned a closet in my home office. You know you own 'too' many guns when you find six firearms stuffed far back in a closet (covered and blocked from view) you've forgotten. I swear on all that is Holy.

After I'd removed the first layer of junk I had just enough room to step inside the closet. Six bags of old Christmas paper, scrapes mostly, later and I was able to reach the right side shelves. I spotted a green handgun case. Inside I found an old revolver. I stood there like an idiot, mouth wide open, thinking, 'what 'da heck.'

I also found five long guns. Two or three shotguns and two rifles. I think. One an SKS Albanian. Go figure. Near the back of the closet I found two rather large pieces of art Sweet Wife had stashed. I moved them and behind I stumbled across five full boxes of Estate 12 gauge double ought buckshot, and twenty-five AR magazines, fully loaded. The magazines were a mixture of twenty and thirty rounders.

I'm rich.

I will not mention the other treasures, like for instance the M1A magazines, or the box of surplus ruck sacks, or web gear, stripper clips nor the fifteen or so rifle cases. If I were to mention the long lost items it might make me appear to be somewhat scattered brained - and you know that isn't true.

*****

This,

walked into my shop last week. I took her home. The man wanted forty dollars for her. The graceful old lady is safely tucked inside my safe. She's happy.

She was manufactured in 1936.

Guess.

I shall wring her out next weekend.

Until then,

Stephen

 

Tidbits

First, a cup of coffee. I'm not completely awake.

Ah, better. Thanks. I know, I wasn't around yesterday. Business has been very good and I feel blessed. It's been rough since the birth of this mini-depression. Some days I flip the sign to open and nothing happens, well there are drips and dabs, but I have time to sit and chat or read and write. Then the next day I flip the sign and its a mad house. The last two days I gave in and purchased a mad house license.

*****

I took my lovely wife out to dine last night. After we were seated and our drink orders taken I reached inside my jacket and slipped the small gift box across the table. She was very pleased. One elderly lady across the way gave me a big smile.

Dinner went well.

I had regrets. I think it would have been fun to watch Sweet Wife open a box and remove a rifle in the restaurant. To gauge the reaction of the staff as she slapped in the magazine and charged the bolt. Imagine the adrenal flow.

*****

Our weather has turned cool. We've had a couple days of light rain. The moisture was very welcome. All across North Florida flowers are in bloom. The camellias are beautiful. Now, since the rain, all the puddles are rimmed in green as a result of the great pollen fall. The air is once again clean and fresh and I feel so much better.

*****

At times I feel as if I own a pawn shop. I have a reputation. Whispers on the street, 'When cash is needed there's this guy...he'll buy your stuff.'

Other dude, 'Yeah, but he's mean and cheap. He will not pay retail.' 

Word....

Yesterday, three ounces of silver at twenty percent below spot. Digital camera sans USB cable, almost new in box, ten bucks.

Hey, man's gotta make a living. Trust me, there is a limit.

 Many years ago a gentleman drove into the parking lot, walked inside and invited me to take a look inside the trunk of his Town Car. The rear springs rode the axle. The trunk was filled to the brim with firearms. Rifles, both full and semi-auto, and there were shotguns and handguns galore, and I mean packed full as if just thrown in hast. Feinstein would have dropped dead from the exposure.

After a few seconds I took a step back and said, "No thanks."

Something about the man, his demeanor and dress, disturbed me. I asked the fella if he was a resident of Florida as the car wore Texas license plates. Said no, he lived on the road. Explained a lot. He bragged he'd driven many miles since he'd last slept. Asked if I'd like to make an offer on the entire contents.

Ever get the feeling you're about to step into a trap.....

*****

Next weekend our group will gather for a camp out. Much range time, both work and fun awaits. I pray the Good Lord gives us cool weather. I love a nice fire under the stars as frost tickles my toes.

Of course both Duke and Senior will attend.

By the way, Senior's lovely wife, Glock Mom had a birthday yesterday. She just turned twenty-eight (according to her, I think she's really twenty-five) so if you haven't as yet dropped in to say hello. Put a smile on her face.

Later.

Stephen

I'm Such a Romantic, part two

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Rifles just don't cut it for Valentines Day. I hung a 'be back in a minute' sign on the shop's door and took a ride to the jewelers.

Tomorrow night I'll slip the gift box across the table and hope she smiles. Got her one of those open heart diamond thingamabobs.

Best picture I was able to find. Her thingamabob is bigger.

I'll grab a card and a few roses this evening.

After all, she's my punkin and I dearly love her. See, I am a hopeless romantic.

Stephen

Standby

No yet.

Soon, I promise.

Stephen

Well, well, well

Seems my plans of continuous six day work weeks has been shot all to heck and gone. I worked hard yesterday, my one day off, out in the yard. The grass is mowed, the leaves and tree debris are history.

When Sweet Wife had her back turned I grabbed my ladder and blower and hit our roof. Even cleaned the gutters. But, the oak and pine pollen and leaf mast took their toll on me.

I'm home sick. The 'ole throat is raw. Sinus drip like you wouldn't believe. Headache, yes indeed.

It's official, Spring has returned to North Florida. I just checked and the temperature is currently seventy-five degrees.

Now, if you'll be so gracious and kind to excuse me I think I'll jerk another cup of coffee, nurse my sore throat and read until I fall asleep.

I had a long piece in mind and had planned to write it today, maybe later.

In the meantime, please, explore the fine writers listed on my sidebar. They're great people.

Stephen 

Believe It or Not

• 
  
• Category:

Listing ID: 262216 22 LR GOLDEN BULLET HOLLOW POINTS 525 PACK

 

Price : $75.00 Ad Start : 2/5 Ad Views : 594 FOR YOU CONSIDERATION IS THE REMINGTON 22LR GOLDEN BULLET 525 ROUND PACK  $75.00 A BOX

Uh-oh

I'm in trouble now. I was just informed my mother-in-law now reads my blog. Seems Sweet Wife tipped her to its existence. She, the MIL, will now keep an eye on me.

I must be a good boy.

Now, it's a known fact everything I write is in jest....I'm sure all of my dear readers can testify to this simple (or complex) truth.

Y'all break in and back me anytime you wish...and, Ms. Minnie, the rifle really is hers...I swear.

Stephen

I'm Such A Romantic

I've selected Sweet Wife's Valentines Day gift.

Nothing says I love you like a new firearm.

Chocolates and cards are for amateurs. I bet you ladies didn't realize I was such a sweet guy.

Stephen 
 

Now I Know

Why I can't find a single case of lowly .22 anywhere on the net...

I'm outbid.

This old news you say....no, they just placed an order for another billion or so rounds.

Stephen

Duh...

No post today or yesterday for that matter. It's tax time.

In between customers, tax preps, and an online novel I just haven't time to post...I know, it's a sorry excuse but it's all I have at the moment.

Stephen

I Know

I haven't posted in two days, sorry.

The construction outside my shop is giving me fits. The noise is awful. The workers are busy with the installation of new water transfer and distribution lines. As they lay the pipes one team moves in and compacts the soil by vibration...which in turn shakes my building. The vibrations are so bad it shook light bulbs from overhead fixtures. Imagine how I feel.

I complained to Sweet Wife. She said, "Honey, unload your gun."

Light bulbs aren't cheap. This construction project has cost my business in more ways than just the loss of light bulbs. I'm sick of it.

*****

I did not watch the Super Bowl. I read. Many, here, have asked why I don't like ball sports. My standard reply is something like, 'it's boring,' or 'don't know,' but really in truth, well, I just don't find it interesting.

I've always felt field sports, in any form, would be far more interesting and fun if only firearms were introduced to the game. Until then, I'll read, thank you very much indeed.

*****

An old timer just came in and asked for assistance. He'd just purchased, through private sale, a new to him Para P-12 .45. He removed the handgun from its case and demonstrated the fact he could not slide nor lock his handgun. The poor man grunted and turned red in the face from the effort. He's seventy-five, a Marine, and I knew the fact he'd asked for help was both humbling and humiliating.

The springs on P-12's are strong; its a small framed firearm and it indeed takes some effort to slide and lock. I noticed he had small hands and used only his forefinger and thumb of his left hand. I corrected his grip and told to push down with his right hand. After fifteen or twenty minutes we had success.

It's fun to watch a man swell with pride. I think he walked out on a cloud of air; big smile on his face. Bless him, so far he's made my day.

Today, if you run across (or into) an older Marine shake his hand or throw him a man hug. They've earned it.



Until later,

Stephen
 

Kitchen Time

Every year at this time I make my famous (insert silly smiley face here) Irish kick-ass salsa. Its deadly to all wimps, wussies, democritters, the very young and elderly alike. It takes me a good two hours of construction.

This afternoon, after I closed the shop, I ran to several markets for the ingredients. I'm finicky about my fresh vegetables. So, I arrived home with a truck load of bags, and the makings of a fish dinner.

No, I will not detail a list or recipe...sorry, it's mine. Suffice to say I make a base and include a small portion of fresh ingredients into the base, and then smack it to death in a blender. This base is poured into a very large bowl and then I chop and add fresh vegetables. Tomatoes, bell pepper, cilantro, onion, and various peppers. I also include salt, black pepper, Tabasco sauce, and the seed of one of the fresh vegetables. Guess which.

The salsa must be thick. I then refrigerate over night, and this step is very important...overnight. The salsa will thicken, almost congeal. When a chip is dipped into the sauce and released it should stand without tipping over.

Above, the birth.

And, finished. Cover with plastic wrap, after you adjust the seasoning, and chill over night. If you like that silly football game scheduled for tomorrow evening, this and a cold beverage of your choice should keep you entertained when the game disappoints.


Your taste may vary but I appreciate Nacho Cheese chips with mine...my wife like those tasteless plain chips - but then again she's from Georgia.

*****

I had a hankering for fish. I satisfied my craving.

Preps...btw, the bottle of Yellow Tail was on sale. Not bad. But, they use those silly plastic 'corks.'

I sauteed the fish, after a dip in egg wash and seasoned flour, in olive oil and butter. As the fish sang its happy song I placed a batch of fresh asparagus in a bit of olive oil and butter with a dash of white wine vinegar and placed pot of grits to fire. For you Yankees that's fine ground corn. Try it.

After I plated the fish I made a simple wine and butter sauce with shallots and garlic with a dash of Balsamic vinegar. I reduced the sauce by half. If you have a cardiologist on speed dial forget the butter as I use full stick...real butter.

Dinner is scheduled for 1800 hours...hurry.

Stephen

For Bob

I was chastised for my lack of knife photos by our good friend, Bob. So, here you are Bob.

Please excuse my awful photography. I still use a Blackberry.

I collect 'Old Timer' USA made knives...I'm far from rabid in my hobby (I have about two gazillion hobbies) but once in a great while I 'get a bug' to buy.  Here are three that fell into my lap of recent.

Above: See, Bob, focus is awful. Anyhow, this is the first model year (1962) of the Schrade-Walden Old Timer 15OT. As you well know, Schrade dropped the Walden in 1973. If you find an Old Timer with the Schrade-Walden brand, grab it. Please don't droll. Oh, carbon steel.

Above, the top is an Improved Muskrat 77OT. She's nothing special but she's mine. The bottom is my daily pocket knife carry, a little three blade 34OT, razor sharp. Well, heck, all my knives are razor sharp. I hate dull tools.

The Muskrat open. Distinctive by its almost equal blades. See the metal stain, I love it as it reflects the blades carbon steel. Hate stainless. Even though 'stainless' means the blade 'stains less.'

Here the Sharp Finger cased. The old leather has a wonderful scent. She's sharp enough to cut one's soul.

My other daily, outside the pocket, carry. A Benchmade Mel Pardue 154CM.

There you are, Bob.

Stephen

I Hate

The first of the month. I've spent all morning writing checks. Settling accounts rates right up there with dentist visits with me.

At least I had an hour or so visit with, Duke, this morning to break the boredom. We discussed current events, spoke of guns (the survivalist variety) and I proudly flashed him a couple of my new knife purchases, and the coffee was good and hot.

I returned from the bank where I gave over a bundle of cash to cover all the checks I wrote. Filled my trucks tank while I was out, as they say, killed two birds with one stone. Seventy five friggin dollars worth of petroleum. Ah, for the days of ten cent a gallon gasoline. Those were surely the days, my friends.

Now, please excuse me. I believe I'll dive back into an online novel. Make believe zombies help ease the strain of the constant noise of the construction just beyond my door.

Be careful out there...

Stephen