Standing Outside Looking In

In The Quiet of The Night

2012-02-24T12:51:00.000-05:00

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

I Want

2012-02-23T14:43:00.002-05:00

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

The Dragunov Saga

2012-02-23T10:47:00.003-05:00

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

Good Afternoon

2012-02-22T13:51:00.002-05:00

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

Bits and Pieces

2012-02-21T10:51:00.000-05:00

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

Urgent Morning Update

2012-02-20T09:59:00.000-05:00

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

To My Heart, Happy Birthday

2012-02-20T02:08:00.000-05:00

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

Quick Note

2012-02-19T12:07:00.000-05:00

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

What's For Dinner

2012-02-18T11:07:00.000-05:00

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

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)

cooked white rice
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.

H/T http://www.blue-kitchen.com/

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-02-17T22:00:00.001-05:00

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

My Friend Duke

2012-02-17T18:20:00.000-05:00

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

Bits and Pieces

2012-02-17T11:44:00.000-05:00

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

Thanks & Welcome

2012-02-17T10:40:00.000-05:00

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

Pecans

2012-02-16T20:33:00.000-05:00

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

Thanks & Welcome

2012-02-16T16:08:00.000-05:00

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

Tagged

2012-02-16T09:33:00.000-05:00

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

Noah At Least Had A Boat

2012-02-15T20:48:00.001-05:00

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

Thanks & Welcome

2012-02-15T16:00:00.001-05:00

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

It's The Little Things

2012-02-15T09:52:00.000-05:00

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

Thanks & Welcome

2012-02-13T22:00:00.000-05:00

To my new friend and follower, Severs28. I promise, my friend, to always reply to your comments.

Welcome abroad, you are now among friends.

Stephen

Taurus Model 82

2012-02-13T20:20:00.000-05:00

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

Survival Rifles; The Good, Bad and Ugly

2012-02-13T10:20:00.000-05:00

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

Thanks & Welcome

2012-02-12T20:40:00.000-05:00

To my new friend and follower, Katidids. I promise to always answer all your comments. Katidids is an artist with a nice blog here. She has many beautiful items listed. Please, take a run over and say hello.

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

Stephen

Coffee and A Snack

2012-02-12T20:32:00.001-05:00

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

I Want

2012-02-12T10:51:00.000-05:00

Just because...read about it, here.

It's 27 degrees here in sunny Florida this morning...I love it.

Later.

Stephen

It's The Little Things

2012-02-11T10:59:00.000-05:00

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

A Gift of Coffee

2012-02-11T09:05:00.000-05:00

To my friend in Idaho....the coffee is wonderful. If I hadn't screwed the pooch by losing your email address I would have sent a personal thanks. Rest assured I'm stunned by your generosity and kindness. Zip me another email and I'll save it this time around.

If ever you need help, yell, I'm here for you.

Thank you, my friend.

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-02-10T20:52:00.000-05:00

To my new friends and followers, Rick Wickwire, Oh-Jenny, and duane. I promise to always answer your comments. Bless each of you for hitting my little blue button.

Again, thanks and welcome. You are now among friends.

Stephen

Divergent Paths

2012-02-10T13:34:00.004-05:00

Willie Lee knocked on my backdoor and asked if I'd take a walk. We set off through my backyard and cut across the orange grove and scrub towards the old barbed wire fence into old man Dexters' cow pasture. It was early June, late afternoon, warm. We crossed the pasture, another fence and climbed the embankment to the railroad tracks. Two miles and we were at the trestle over the creek. We'd walked in silence.

We eased off the tracks and down to a high bluff over the old swimming hole. The creek beneath the trestle formed a bend and our swimming hole was deep, the water dark and tannin stained. We each lit a cigarette. Finally, "What's wrong, Willie?"

Across the creek and deep in the swamp a woodpecker worked hard at a tree and I could hear old man Crawford on his Ford tractor and thought about the watermelons he grew each summer and watched a leaf float gently on the dark water and then took my well worn old .22 pistol and took a few shots. I walked the hits into the leaf by the splash of the water. A game we'd once enjoyed.

"Is that necessary...now."

"Guess not, so, what's wrong?"

"When you leaving?"

"Monday, early."

Willie Lee sighed, flipped his butt into the water, and said, "Thought so."

Across the creek I could see the old oak. One of its limbs snaked over the water and there was a short piece of our old sack swing rope still attached and it dangled useless. A poison ivy vine climbed the tree and I remembered my little brothers cries of pain as my mother doctored his rash after he rubbed his butt on the leaves on a dare. We'd played countless games of 'gator' in these waters. Fished and walked and camped and hunted the banks of this creek for years...all now gone.

He said, "It'll be different now."

"I know."

Then I asked, "What will you do, where will you go?"

"Not sure. Probably work on the Gulf, a shrimp boat probably. No college for me, or the military."

"Could if you wanted."

I looked across the creek and saw the spot where I'd gotten my first kiss from an old girlfriend. We'd formed a nest in the soft grass and loved each the other for hours under the light of a full moon. She was a full two years older than me with the necessary experience and slim and smelled of Spring and her skin was soft to my touch. It had changed me forever.

Then again, I was a big fan of Henry Miller.

He asked, "Will you come back home."

The sun was low and I could hear owls, an occasional whippoorwill, and off in the distance the screen door of some farm house slam shut. I didn't answer. Instead I rose and said, "Let's walk, it's getting late."

We climbed the bank back to the tracks and walked the crossties toward home. I knew the answer to his question, but how was I to explain a young mind filled with the gift of literature. Willie Lee didn't read. Even though we'd been best friends for years he'd never understood my need for words. Hemingway and Miller and Ruark and many others had placed the need for travel in my mind. I wanted to see and experience France and Italy and Great Britain and most of all, the bullfights of Spain. To eat and enjoy the favors of their food. To hunt and shoot and fish foreign lands. My mind had been set for years; I needed to escape this, my old home. Even then the agrarian lifestyle of my youth gave way to development. The land had become crowded and I wanted nothing of it.

"Well," he said, "Will you come back home?"

We'd reached our divergent paths.

We stood at the edge of the Dexters' fence where the orange grove, to the right, gave onto the hardwoods and then into the swamp. My path lead ahead, his left.

"No," I said, and reached over and tapped his shoulder with my fist. "I'll never come back, Willie, I'm sorry."

"You know, they'll send you over there."

"I know, it's part of it."

"Shoot one for me."

I said something like, "Sure."

And with that, without a goodbye, he went down the railroad bank, across the fence towards home. I waited until he was out of sight. I never saw him again, and I never did return.

Stephen

Busy Morning, Please Stand By

2012-02-10T09:45:00.001-05:00

Busy this morning. I've a long piece I want to write today...might take me a few hours as it's just a flicker on my mind. Back as soon as possible. Doctor's visit went well yesterday.

Seems over night I lost another follower. To the follower, please let me know what I've done to make you drop off....it's fine, I'd just like to correct any misunderstandings. Shucks, two steps forward, five back.

My Little Bit will spend the evening with us....I miss her so very much. Can't wait.

Until then, have a great day and please, stay safe out there.

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-02-09T20:35:00.000-05:00

To my new friends and followers, Deano, and agirlandhergun. My new friends I promise to always answer your comments.

Deano writes http://doubletakecreations.blogspot.com/, and lives in Alaska. Our new friend, agirlandhergun is a rabid second amendment supporter (a cause close to my heart) and writes her views on the subject at http://agirlandhergun.blogspot.com/. Please, take a moment and ride over and say hello. Ask Deano about his kitten...

Again, thanks and welcome, my new friends. You are now among friends.

Stephen

Want A Good Laugh

2012-02-09T10:30:00.000-05:00

Then sally forth and read this. A brilliant post by my good friend Flier389 at Granddad's Corner.

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-02-09T10:17:00.000-05:00

To my new friend and follower, Mama DragonWolf. I promise to always answer any comments. I'm honored you hit my little blue follower button.

Mama DragonWolf writes the blog, Chaotic Uprisings. Drop by and say hello. Please be warned it contains adult subject matter.

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

Stephen

Good Morning

2012-02-09T09:35:00.000-05:00

It's a cool and beautiful morning and here I am stuck inside.

Before I forget my best bud, Duke, has written a fine piece on firearms training. Please, click and read. It's a fine article.

I've a busy day ahead of me. My day nurse arrives in a couple of hours then its off to the infectious disease doctors office where he'll slice away a few pieces of my body. Should be fun....and limit my range of motion for the rest of the day. My patience runs thin.

Did you guys see where a brave seven year old girl kicked and fought a man as he attempted to abduct her in a Walmart....good for her. I sincerely wish I had been on site when this took place. This world is full of sick individuals, animals; the gene pool needs a reset button which is located under my trigger finger.

I need a second cup of coffee.

I'll try and write a clear headed post later today...

Stephen

Stuck In Hell

2012-02-08T20:27:00.000-05:00

Are you good folks aware there is a television show titled, 'American Idol?' Are you also aware women enjoy this stuff...

Seems this happened to me before, think it was last year. Problem is, I'm stuck.

Pay back is hell, too.

Stephen

Bits and Pieces

2012-02-08T09:31:00.000-05:00

Now that all my favorite blogs have the Liebster Award I can relax and move on. The shine has worn off.

I was reading was passes for a newspaper in this city when the phone rang. It was my best buddy, Duke, checking up on me. He was worried because he hadn't seen any updates on my blog. He'd also noticed I hadn't commented on any other blogs last night. Between him and my Sweet Wife I can't get away with any mischief. God has surely blessed me with some fine friends. He has some tough duty today. He must make arrangements for hospice care for his sweet mother in law.

I've received word that my sweet kymber has sprouted wings and is on her way down here for a bit of sunshine and to kick my a$$. It should be fun.
I'll admit it, as I said early this morning, I was wrong. I should have stayed home under house arrest. I was fine until I reached my shop. I flipped on the light in my office, took a chair, and next thing I know an hour or two has passed and my desk was covered in papers. The mail beneath my door slot was two feet high. Dust was deep too. Took it upon myself to clean the place. Big mistake. I felt something slid down my leg. It hit the floor with soft, 'plop,' Part of my wounds bandage and packing had fallen out. Said, 'screw it,' and kept at it.

Later, at Publix, I began to sweat, my steps faltered. Said to myself, 'man up.' I finished my task and hit the road. When I arrived home there was a trailer in front of my house and two men were cutting and removing leaves from my yard. It was my friend, Senior Chief and his helper. My yard looks great. Thank you my friend. His sweet wife, Jacked Up Glock Mom, had also sent along a loaf of fresh baked bread and a get well card. See what I mean about good friends.

So Santorum sweep a few states last night. Big deal. This race is far from over and I'm afraid we'll be stuck with 'his highness' for four more years. Get ready.

When Sweet Wife arrived home last night she stopped and said, "Something smells good." I'd made fajitas. When she'd finished her second she looked at me and said thanks, then commenced to chew me out for my efforts. No respect...

I need to sneak out into the garage today, remove clutter from my reloading bench and clean a few weapons. I've a couple of AR's and two or three handguns in need of my care. If I can't shoot I can at least dream. Besides, I love the smell of Hoppe's number nine. I once wrote the three best odors in the world are, of an early morning, Hoppe's, coffee, and fresh fried bacon. If there happens to be an old wood cookstove in the kitchen, all the better.

Last night I tried to watch that prepper show on History. It was okay, nothing special. You'd think the people interviewed would at least clean up their yards. After the first segment I said the hell with it and went back to bed. When they introduced the weed muncher the show jumped the shark....and what survivalist/prepper would agree to national television coverage of their preparations, their bugout plans, and armaments. Came across (and this is my take, don't be offended) as white trash on parade.

Time for me to answer comments. See you nice folks later.

Stephen

Quicky

2012-02-08T07:32:00.000-05:00

Okay, I admit it - I over did it yesterday. Paid for it too. My muse took a hit at the same time as you can tell from the silence last evening.

I'll be back later to answer comments. It's time for coffee and breakfast. Cool here, 48. Nice.

Boo-hoo.

Stephen

Rambling

2012-02-07T09:27:00.000-05:00

Today I have an escape plan in mind. I'm sure I'll tick off a few people, my doctor, nurse, and Sweet Wife, but I've had it with house arrest. The day nurse just left, so the rest of my day is free. My poor truck has been ignored long enough and I hear her pleas; come drive me. I shall.

I need to run by my shop and check on the stack of mail I'm sure is waste deep by now. I want to write and post a notice for my customers, if I've any left to read it, and perhaps gather a few files for that awful time when I begin my tax preparations.

I'd also like to sneak over to our local Publix and find a nice chunk of beef. I have a hankering for fajitas. All that beautiful salsa I made is a perfect addition for fajitas...

At least this is my plan. My condition might change my mind once I'm behind the wheel. I'll take it easy. What's that old saying, 'the best laid plans.'

I miss my Little Bit. Haven't seen her since last Friday, or was it Saturday. My days are a blur. Hopefully I can convince my son to allow her to spend this Friday night with us. I miss her something awful. Sweet Wife has taken my duties and drives her to school each morning. I'm jealous.

Rain is in the forecast. Should make for a great nap period when I return from my adventures into the real world. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Stephen

Last Post

2012-02-06T16:25:00.000-05:00

Sorry, but I had to delete the last post. The darn thing just could not be corrected.

Anyway, I passed along this award to several chosen individuals I believe deserve it.

I haven't the time to list all of the links this evening...visitors, but will try and do so tomorrow.

Again, I'm sorry.

Stephen

Reading Material

2012-02-06T13:00:00.005-05:00

I made a promise to list the books I read while under captivity. I believe it was to my friend, 45er. Anyway, here's the list.

I couple of these were downloaded on my Kindle.

'As Wind in Dry Grass,' by H. Grant Llewellyn. Apocalyptic fiction...not for the faint of heart, but a good story none the less.

'High Desert Barbecue,' by J.D. Tuccille. Not bad, not good. When you're bored out of your friggen mind you'll read whats available..it was recommended so I was stuck with it.

For the foodies out there, 'Nobody Knows The Truffles I've Seen,' by George Lang. This is a biography of the great restauranteur, Lang. The first section of the book deals with the atrocities, lives of the Hungarian Jews, at the hands of the Nazis leading up to and during World War two. Yes, I've eclectic taste in literature.

I was well into, 'Deep Winter' by Thomas Sherry when I was discharged/escaped from the hospital. It was my forth or fifth reading. Highly recommended. It suffers for the lack of edit work, but its still a good adventure. Again, apocalyptic fiction set in eastern Washington State.

Soft jazz is playing in the background, the coffee hot and fresh, and I'm at peace. I wish the same for you. God bless.

Stephen

Quiet Morning

2012-02-06T09:38:00.001-05:00

I've next to nothing to say this morning...it's quiet and I'm soaking in the peace of it. Sweet Wife has returned to work. This is the first time in about twelve days I've been alone. The day nurse arrives later this morning to change my bandages, poke and prod, and repack.

She still has a hard time understanding the shelves of books. She asked me why certain volumes were dressed in archival plastic. I explained the books in question are first editions. Blank stare. So I changed direction and told her they were special and the plastic gave the books protection.

"Protection from what? They're just books."

"The elements, people's dirty hands, dust."

Blink, blink. Cow eyes.

"Are 'da expensive?"

I pointed towards one, said, "That book only had a first printing of two thousand copies. Half went to libraries. The others were sold from the trunk of the author's vehicle. Half of those were destroyed by misuse. I only know of two on the market. I own one. That book is worth two grand."

"Sweet Jesus Christ Almighty, a book be worth 'dat much money?"

"Yes." I said. She shakes her head and mumbled, "I done heard it all now."

Me too.

I'm several chapters behind on The Union Creek Journal, and with all this silence, I'll have a chance to jump back into the adventure. You can find the story, here.

If conditions warrant, I might just sneak outside and pop some squirrels from my garage. My trigger finger is itchy.

Later, it's time for another cup of coffee. Take care, my friends.

Stephen

It's Time To Cook

2012-02-05T11:39:00.000-05:00

I've a hankering for Irish Stew. So today, with my wife's help, I'll build one. I begin with a Roux. Slap a slab of bacon in my dutch oven and render it of its fat, add flour and with tender care bring it to the color of a pecan shell. This, after I brown my stew meat (beef) which delivers a rich flavor to the Roux.

Then butter, red potatoes, onions, garlic, carrots and mushrooms and believe it or not, small green Lima beans. Yes, I have my own twist on Irish Stew. Deal with it.

This is a file photo of a nice pot of stew, notice the herb string. I love the old Le Creuset. This old pot has cooked many a meal.

Last evening I made a batch of my famous Irish Kick-Ass Salsa. I'll try and get a picture for you...standby.

Sorry the picture is so out of focus. Notice the chip...there's a world of hurt in this bowl of tasty goodness. Wimps need not apply.

Gotta run, my day nurse is at the door. Be still my heart.

Later.

Stephen

How True

2012-02-04T15:00:00.001-05:00

An artist depiction of His Highness tramping our Constitution.

H/T to the Drudge Report.

Stephen

Bits and Pieces

2012-02-04T11:41:00.001-05:00

It's quiet this morning. I hear the wind chimes, birds, the angry chatter of a squirrel. and Sweet Wife's gentle footsteps as she putters around the house. I'll miss her next week when she returns to work.

Little Bit had a nice long visit with us last evening. She walked into the family room and to my chair and gently placed her hands on my face. She leaned and gently gave me a tiny kiss. Asked if she could really sit in my lap. I took her and placed her on my right leg, she leaned into me and I wrapped my arms around her. We didn't say a word, each to the other, for several minutes. I soaked in her love.

Then, "Papa."

"Yes, Sweetheart."

"Don't ever leave me again."

"I'll try, Honey, but Papa couldn't help it. I was sick, Honey."

"Did you try to go to Heaven, Papa. Did you want to see your mommy?"

I glanced over at Sweet Wife. She's quietly shedding tears. Little Bit still has a bear hug on me.

"No, Punkin, Papa didn't want to go to Heaven. I wanted to stay here with you and Nana."

"Okay, Papa. Can you walk?"

"Yes, slowly. Why?"

"Cause you need to get up and go to my room. We need to play."

So, I stood and she took my hand in hers and we slowly walked to her bedroom. (We've set aside a room for her visits. She refuses to sleep in it. It's a long way from our room and nightlights just don't cut it.) She took a couple of dolls from her bed and gave me one. We played. After a few minutes she took my doll and placed it aside, then gently pushed me back on the bed. She snuggled. Then she slept. I held her and thanked the good Lord for such a gift. And, my life.

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-02-04T09:07:00.000-05:00

To my new friend and follower, WildChildT. She has a nice blog, http://wildchild-t.blogspot.com/, full of great information. She's also a foodie; what's not to love.

Wildchild, I promise to always answer any comments, good or bad.

Please, my dear friends, take a moment and visit her blog and give her a warm welcome.

Again, thanks and welcome. You are now among friends.

Stephen

A Milestone

2012-02-03T18:09:00.001-05:00

At some point today my blog recorded its one hundred thousandth hit.

All because of you. My humble thanks.

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-02-03T17:00:00.003-05:00

To my lovely new follower and friend, Auntie J. As always with my 'welcome' post I promise to answer any and all comments.

Please, pull a cup of coffee, have a seat and let's have some fun. Again, thank you and welcome.

You are now among friends.

Stephen

You Be Kidding Me

2012-02-03T15:19:00.000-05:00

The day nurse arrived at noon. Nice lady. Sweet wife lead her to our family room. She walks in and places her laptop and pile of paperwork on our coffee table and ever so gently, takes a seat.

I patiently wait as she takes in the room. She swiveled, looks this way and that...then, "Oh my God, how many books do you own?"

In truth I reply, "Not sure."

Silence. Sweet Wife gives me the 'look.' She knows I'm about to go all smart ass.

Then, the day nurse said - and I'm serious..."You read all these?" Her words...really.

With full knowledge I'm still under the gaze of Sweet Wife, I said, "Yes Mame, I've read all of them, and more. I have a library in the other wing of the house."

Silence.

Then, "You be kidding me."

She looks at me, mouth wide open. I smiled. Sweet Wife smiled. We've heard it before, one of those been there done that moments.

The day nurse stands and walks over and places her hand on my head. After a moment or two I asked if she was checking my temperature.

"No, I just wanted to know if your head was gonna bust wide open."

I think I'll like her.

Stephen

So Be It

2012-02-03T13:30:00.000-05:00

This truly saddens me. I have now been labeled a bigot. So be it.

Kris WatsonFeb 3, 2012 08:52 AM

Hello, Stephen. I have been reading your blog for a nice long while now, and am sending best wishes for you quick recovery.

However, I have just removed your blog from my reading list, because of this post. Not because you are not correct to remnd us all of the dangers in our world today, but because I have no respect for anyone who attacks another person based on their appearance. You have no information on this family's situation, yet you chose to assume that the father was a bad parent because he didn't take his child to school, and that said bad parenting was because of his weight. It was a bad decision on your part, and in the end I cannot remain in support of a blog which condones bigotry. You may not see it now, but any prejudgement based on appearance is bigotry, whether it be skin color, disability, or weight. I am very disappointed in you, and even though you are recovering from an illness right now, this time of reflection may be helpful.

I truly hate to lose followers. I believe this dear lady missed the main point of my post. Interesting, none the less. The post is here.

Thanks & Welcome

2012-02-03T12:04:00.000-05:00

To my new friends and followers, The Old Geezer, MaddMedic, bargirl2381, and Phyllis of N/W Jersey.

My new friends, first of all, please forgive me for this late thanks and welcome. I promise to always reply to your comments. As is the case of late, it might take me a while, hours, days and in some rare cases weeks, but rest assured, I will reply.

You are now among friends...again, thanks and welcome.

Stephen

Bits and Pieces

2012-02-03T11:05:00.000-05:00

I've really lost track of time. Read the local rag this morning and it was filled with articles about the Super Bowl. It's played Sunday? Really? And here I am without the ingredients for my world famous Irish kick-ass salsa, and incapable of shopping for same. I suppose I'll need to make a list and have Sweet Wife sally forth. By the way, it's the only football game I ever watch. Now, if firearms were part of the game...I'd be all over it.

I'll need fresh tomatoes, bell peppers, onions, fresh (or pickled) jalapenos, cilantro and other spices. I'll make a base (or rather give instructions to Sweet Wife) of canned tomatoes, to which you should add small amounts of the above and blend into a smooth tasty mess. The vegetables will be chopped and folded into the base along with your basic salt, pepper, coriander seeds, and Tabasco sauce...enough to make a grown man cry. It should be spicy enough to kill the weak, elderly, and all liberals, lip-stick women and metrosexuals.

I make two batches. Place in the refrigerator over night. It should be thick; you should be able to place a chip (I prefer Doritos, the cheese favor really works well with the salsa) into the salsa and it should stay erect. The salsa will gel. The chip is nothing more than a spoon for the salsa.

I've made this salsa for at least thirty-five years. It's so good I once watched my sister eat it with tears streaming down her face...she'd bite, cry, fan her face, dip and bite...I said, "Sis, if it hurts, quit." She took another bite.

The file picture above is not my salsa...it appears to 'dry.' The base should be liquid, but dense.

In other news...Sweet Wife has been on a cleaning kick this morning. Our home, for the most part, smells of bleach. Not a dust particle in sight. Even in normal times she's a cleaning demon, but now...God help the person that drops a hair on her tile or carpet. She hovers over me like a hen herding its chicks. Bless her heart. She's so tired and won't admit it.

And, I'm clean shaven. Still have my chin beard and mustache, but the rest of my face is clean. It feels so good. My bread is closely cropped...as I like it. I can't help but rub my face. I'm leaner too. I'm a fairly muscled man, so at least I don't appear as if I've dropped too much weight, but trust me, I have. Feels weird.

I'll have daily nurse visits here at home for the foreseeable future. They call ahead and give me a window of their arrival which should give me a bit of free time. Today they will install a wound vacuum system, portable. A unit which I'm told will allow me to attach it to my belt. Even thought I cannot yet stand and walk a great deal, at least I'm able to move for brief periods. Not sure how I'll sleep with the darn thing. I must wear it twenty-two out of twenty-four hours of the day. It's parasitic.

I'm currently reading 'Deep Winter.' Give it a shot. I haven't forgotten my promise to list the books I read while in the hospital, give me time. Also same for my 'thanks and welcome' post. It will be done. Please be patient with me. (No pun intended)

I wish I could hug all you guys...for the men, a man bump. The ladies...God bless you, you've been so sweet. If it were possible I'd take all of you out to dinner.

I mark the hours until the arrival of my Little Bit. Tick, tick, tick. Wish I had a gift for her. I can't wait until I'm able to begin our morning ride to breakfast and school. I love it when I arrive at my son's house - how she runs out the front door and jumps into my arms. That first sweet squeeze of complete love. The way she cuddles her face into my shoulder. Then the way she feels me in on her nights events. Sometimes she'll have a picture she's drawn for me and how she'll watch for my reaction as I look it over. Of course I always tell her it's a masterpiece.

Just glanced over and found Sweet Wife passed out. She was up and at it at 0500 this morning. Makes me feel so awful she's been forced into the roll of caregiver. I'll never be able to repay her, but I'll do my very best.

I'd sure enjoy a day on the range...my trigger finger itches.

At least I'm home.

Stephen

Tomorrow Night

2012-02-02T22:06:00.000-05:00

Will be perfect for me. I have a date with my heart. She will arrive sometime after 1800. At 1802 she will be in my arms; I will hold her. She will be mine again for two complete blissful hours. I will not release her.

I am at peace.

Stephen

Just Before Dawn

2012-02-02T06:39:00.001-05:00

And I've just now switched off my Kindle. Sweet Wife is fast asleep; I envy her. She's cute with the blanket drawn tightly around her shoulders. She's so tired.

My muse fails me. I tried several times in the last few hours to write a couple of short pieces only to find my finger angrily pounding the backspace key. I've asked myself why and had to admit, to blame my pain medication is silly. My muse is tied tightly to my state of mind which isn't well these days. I'm hungry too.

I want to walk under the sun and breath fresh air. I want a bowl of clam chowder, a real cup of coffee. I want to walk the streets of some little village and peek inside a bakery where a rotund flour soaked old man removes a fresh loaf of butter soaked bread from a hot oven and says, "Help yourself."

My emotions are raw and close to the surface. I want the hell out of here. I want to hold my Little Bit. I worry about my business. Literature only takes one so far.

Stephen

Bits and Pieces

2012-02-01T11:06:00.000-05:00

Not much time - they come. They're out there, crawling along the hallways. They wait...

I hate to post of my illness. Seems torrid. Yet, I'm stuck. Hopefully I'll be able to escape within a few days. Of course my escape is conditioned upon my agreement for home care. They insist on a vacuum pump, portable, a leash if you will.

Now, on my new follower 'thanks and welcome' post....please be patient. I am reduced to writing on this laptop. It's a nice one, but I hate it. It's sensitive, my fingers are too damn big...and well, I hate it...there. I promise, I will give proper thanks as soon as possible. I keep my promises. Maybe I'll surprise you, if I have the time today...never know...my photo library is stashed on my office computer, yet, maybe...either way, you will be thanked properly. There is a purple dragon on the wall, see him...drugs...suck.

Hospitals, a few tips.
Bring reading material, a couple of 'old fashioned' paperbacks, a Kindle if you have one. My Kindle is priceless. I've read, between all the bulls&*t, two novels.

Bring little salt, sweetener packets. These meals (chuckle) come with one tiny packet of salt. Example, yesterday there was a piece of chicken breast, a tiny pile of green beans, and a few pieces of limp pasta. Each required seasoning. And, there sat that tiny packet of salt.

You will not sleep. When the door to your room opens for any visit, scream and yell and insist the critter close it upon their exit. Hospitals are loud. Fight for your rights. Some here fear me. One lady noticed my holster (sans weapon) and made a remark that I probably enjoyed hurting people....I smiled at her, kinda toothy...she hasn't been back. When they respect and fear you, you just might get a few more moments of rest.

Park you dignity at the door. Granted there are some very lovely young nurses that in ordinary circumstances - well, you understand. But in here...with my Sweet Wife in residence...it's well, kinda not cool for my neither regions to shine. Even the head (bathroom) is open territory for rudeness. The suckers just walk the hell in and ask if they can stay a while....just hand over the toilet paper and ask if they'd like to help you wipe. Again, fight for your rights. If medical staff brag through the door, kick their butts out. Train them well. It works. Just yesterday the ASP remarked she thought I was 'just such a sweet man.' I'd yet to snap at her. She'll learn. (hey, really, I am a sweet kinda guy. Not my fault they give me drugs.)

Sorry, drifted off. Serious, drugs are awful. I find myself, as I write this, lost, mind numbed. Thinking requires a bit more effort than normal. Resist as long as possible the pain killers. Morphine is a demon. I hate it. See, reading back on my last couple of lines....all hell. I don't care....

Get the point....like that.

You will lose weight. I came in at 225. I now weight less, and at six foot one, anything less than two hundred pounds and I resemble a bean pole...just deal with it. Some of you, it might just help. I think of it as a tune-up for future battles...

They are close now, I've caught their scent. Wound care. Nice guys...they help me heal. They hurt too.

It'll be a few weeks before I can hold and hug my Little Bit. Received word she isn't happy by the fact her father is driving her to school. A couple of nights ago she was able to visit...at first the duty nurse said no way. Then Sweet Wife jumped into action. She explained to the nurse that she needed to see her Papa, and I wanted to see her. She said it's not good to keep these two separated. Little Bit did her part in the drama by giving over her big brown eyes, tears rolled down her face. The nurse melted. Little Bit was required to dress in protective garments. She was limited to the hallway of my room. The little girl jumped up and down and cried (yes, so did I) and fought her Nana and father in her attempts to run and jump on my bed.

Sweet Wife calmed her down and asked her to throw kisses. I caught 'em like a pro. She asked why...we explained. She said she didn't care if Papa had germs, she wanted them too. (whew) Rip out my soul, why don't 'ya. It hurts.

I want to again thank each and every one of you for all you kind thoughts and prayers. I promise to cease writing about this stuff as soon as possible...a clear mind would help too.

If I have missed any comments please let me know. I will, I promise, answer as soon as possible. Edit work isn't my thing....if I misspelled a word or two, please, over look 'em.

God bless.

Stephen

My Window

2012-01-31T14:57:00.000-05:00

To the world gives me a view of the river and the endless sky and the thousands upon thousands of vehicles in an unbroken stream that moves from east to west and beyond. This window is my distraction as they clean and remove the dead tissue.

I count recreational vehicles. During today's session, as the nice man worked, I lost count at fifty one.

He'd look up and say, "Are you okay?"

"Sure." Then relax my grip. The nice man took my hand and said, "I know it hurts."

I asked, "Have you experienced this too?"

"No."

I went back to the view from my window.

Stephen

Still Alive

2012-01-31T08:08:00.006-05:00

This will probably be a very quick note. Please understand I am under the influence of a mess of heavy drugs. I am still located on the sixth floor of a major medical center/hospital. This is the first opportunity I've had to connect to the internet, and a mind clear enough to use it.

I want to (thinking here) say 'thank you' to all my dear friends for your outpouring of love and concern for my health. Thank you all for your prayers. They worked.

Long story short, my Sweet Wife saved my life last Friday night, the 27th of January. The surgeon, after a quick glance at my 'wound' told us I had about six hours to live. He told us either allow him to cut, or else. Guess what I said....anyway, luck and my wife were on my side. I'll explain/tell my story later, or not. I'm unsure at the moment.

I'll be here for a while, hopefully not long.

Gotta run, they're here with their whips and chains.

Update: I will post a proper thanks and welcome to my new followers as soon as possible...in the meantime, God bless you and welcome.

Again, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-01-26T10:00:00.001-05:00

To my new friend, Bill. I promise, my friend, to answer any comments. It might take me a few hours, or days, but trust me I'll reply.

Bill has a nice blog and business here. Bill teaches firearms training. Take a look and say hello, please. He's one of us.

Again, thanks and welcome Bill. You are now among friends.

Stephen

Quick Note

2012-01-26T08:42:00.000-05:00

I'm home for the day. Thank the Good Lord for none narcotic pain medication. Movement isn't on my agenda, it hurts.

I want to thank all of you for the kind comments. I'll be fine.

On the bright side I should be able to make a dint in my book stack. Two to three arrive every week but with my work schedule and the normal interruptions of life it's difficult to stay ahead of the deliveries.

Until then.

Stephen

Update

2012-01-25T21:07:00.000-05:00

The doctor asked me to drop my trousers. At the top of my left leg is a swollen hard red knot about the size of two softballs. Doc said, "Wow."

Then he said, "Bet it hurts." Doctors, I understand, are considered intelligent.

Bottom line, I'm sicker than I first thought. I'm on three antibiotics, one shot into my hip.

All I want to do is sleep.

I'll live.

Stephen

Bits & Pieces

2012-01-25T09:33:00.000-05:00

I feel my age this morning. I hurt. Somehow within the last few days I've caught an infection. The doctors office awaits. Anyway, I'm sure the doctor will prescribe one of his miracle pills and by the end of the week I'll feel like my old self.

According the the calendar it's winter here in Florida. It lies. Warm and humid out this morning. Fog as thick as cotton candy. I hate it. We've had, maybe, three days of winter this season. Climate change, don't 'ya know.

I came in this morning with an idea for a long post. Not gonna happen. Maybe tomorrow, or tonight. Just can't get comfortable. Mild headache.

Rambling, aren't I. Sorry.

There is an outside chance Little Bit's mother, her birth mother, will visit on Little Bit's birthday next month. That is if the stars are in alignment, the earth's crust doesn't shift, and purple rain showers develop out over the Gulf of Mexico. Little Bit hasn't seen her mother in over three years, so I'm not sure how I feel about this visit. What effect will it have on my grandchild when she has to say, goodbye.

Her mother has promised so much over the years and, as is her way, failed. She never follows through. This hurts Little Bit. I hope this isn't another. Little Bit is so excited. Her mother called Sweet Wife a couple of nights back and her mother and Little Bit spoke for close to an hour. She asked what kind of cake Little Bit wanted for her party. They spoke of gifts. Her time of arrival and by which means. Little Bit was jumping up and down with glee. Her mother lives in North Carolina. She has her problems, which we pray she will someday overcome. She really is a sweet person. But, she has her demons.

There is a hole in Little Bits' heart. It needs to be filled. I'm just not sure her mother is capable.

Sorry for the sad tone this morning. Like I said, I don't feel very well.

Stephen

Get Off Your Fat...

2012-01-24T14:00:00.000-05:00

butt and take the child to school. Then, return and escort her home, Dad. You sorry piece of sh*t...

H/T Paladin

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-01-24T11:00:00.002-05:00

I seem to have a recurring problem with the 'follower' thingamajig. I have four nice people which I need to say thank you and welcome but I'm missing one name. Please, whomever you are, if you'll leave a comment with your name I'll take a moment and properly say thanks and welcome. It's important to me.

Now, thank you, Caterina Serra, and to Walter Zoomie, and last but certainly not least to Hobo. Both Walter and Hobo have very interesting blogs. Take a moment and drop by and say hello.

To all of you, I promise to reply to all comments.

Update: My thanks to tiwimon and DFW. If there are any others, please let me know.

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

Stephen

God Bless The Children; A Prayer Request

2012-01-24T08:54:00.000-05:00

Beth has left a new comment on your post "Heaven Continued; It's The Little Things":

Stephen, I follow your blog tho I have not become a "friend" yet as I am just not sure how its done! Very techo illiterate. Have also responded to your posts about the love of grandparents. Anyway, I have a serious request...my daughter and her husband blessed us with a wonderful granddaughter Natalie. They went on to have a stillborn son, Blaise, at 34 weeks (whom we still grieve for three years later) followed by 13 miscarriages. my daughter is now 22 weeks pregnant with our grandson Sebastian. Yesterday, we found out that our precious little one is in serious danger and needs to reach a certain birthweight to be delivered so drs can address other issues. Essentially, he has stopped growing so reaching that weight will take a miracle. I know how deeply you care for your grandchildren. You know, thru my posts, mine. Please help me to spread the word that Sebastian needs prayers. Serious prayers. As do my daughter, son-in-law, and my granddaughter who is old enough to be devistated by the loss of another little brother. Please pray with us, ask other grandparents to pray that another precious little one will survive and bring so much love, joy, and hope to his family. Thanks.

Beth, as requested. My friends, please keep this baby in your prayers.

Stephen

The Weekend

2012-01-23T10:50:00.000-05:00

Good morning, my friends. Yes, I made it back safe and sound - sore too. It was fun, tiring, and since we completed our objectives, satisfying.

The weather out at the Boar's Nest was cool and windy. Perfect weather for hard work. Our goal was to dig, by hand, a trench of 200 feet long, two and half feet deep (in one stretch, three foot) and place a power line and conduit inside and cover the trench in one day. I'm proud to say we completed the job within four hours. Four hard hours, but we did it.

As a simple explanation, the location of our Boar's Nest serves two purposes. It is a location for our group to gather and camp, shoot, and relax. Our firing range is within yards of a nice wild river. It is also our BOL if and when needed. As such we utilize redundant systems, a backup to a backup to a backup. The power line we installed this weekend is our second means of electrical backup. Our first is a gas operated generator with a hard wired panel. The third system will be solar. These systems take time - we use cash. A person asked me this weekend whey we didn't just rent a power tool to dig the trench. I said we have eight men and a boy....with shovels. We're frugal.

The weekend in pictures, in random order...warning, this post is picture heavy.

The trench. The pipe to the left is a ten foot section of conduit for the power line. The power line is forever known as The Modern Day Redneck power line. Our good friend, MDR, donated the wire for our installation. We've adopted him into our group. As old timers once said, he's family.

We hit water.

Above, Rebel sizes up the situation. We had to trench under the house. He's thinking, I'm slim so they'll make me do it. Rebel is one of the hardest working men I know....he's fine people and I'm proud to call him my friend. As a side note...to the left is our radio tower...it's on the list of things 'to do.'

This is ShooterSteve. He's a master electrician, and a valuable member of our group. Here he's prepping the MDR wire for removal and placement into the conduit. The one strand he holds measured two hundred and forty seven feet.

We had to dig one section of the trench under two sections of fence through a horse corral. Above, the conduit about to be placed into the trench.

ShooterSteve and Rebel as they pull wire through the conduit.

Above, the starting point of the trench, a nearby farm. Here's Duke (wearing the 1911) Rebel, with the young man in the forefront, William, and ShooterSteve, all hard at work on a gas line repair (yes, we cut it). I'm of course holding a shovel and camera. Duke has a unique gift...he can repair dust, torn trousers, tractors, children's toys...or severed pipes with ease.

Above, my friend Duke hard at work beginning the dig under the Boar's Nest.

We didn't work all weekend. Here's a shot of the guys on the firing range. Our friend, Senior, husband of Jacked Up Glock Mom, built us a rolling target stand. We had fun. Senior did a fine job. The stand is attached to a rope. Place rope in someone's hands, tell them to run....fast. Try and keep the front sight on the target and not the runner. All joking aside, the runner is well out of range....

This is Duke drawing a bead on the moving target...look closely to his right, just under his arm, see it in the distance...my camera doesn't do well on long range shots. The river is just beyond the trees. When the river floods it fills the background of the range. Then it's time for catfishing.

Tools of the trade. All these men are exceptional riflemen. You do not want them shooting at you. Each are veterans. Two of us with combat experience, including my friend Duke. Together, God help those that pose any threat to our families.

Just another picture of the range. It was a beautiful day. This is a pretty good shot of Senior's target stand. It has four tires and rolls fairly fast. It's a challenge at fifty yards - the sucker bounces.

Camp life at the Boar's Nest. In the foreground is ShooterSteve's tent...he snores. The fire bucket ready for a night of lies and yarns of old. To the right is our generator. ShooterSteve took a basic generator, donated to the group by Senior, and installed a marine stainless steel tank, 32 gallons worth, and made other improvements. On the far edge of the picture is the MDR deck table...

Just before sunset. Rebel relaxing with a cup of coffee. You know, any man that will refuse a cup of coffee, at any time of day, must be a damn communist. Nice fire. It will be two years, this April, since we began construction on the Boar's Nest. It's been hard sweaty work, but worth the effort.

Above, here is the most valuable man in the group. Please, may I introduce, Jim. Jim is our medic. He patches us up when we're hurt, which is quite often, makes us eat correctly, mends our souls, and is just an all around nice person. Like Duke once said, Jim has the biggest heart among us. I'm proud to call him friend. Before I forget, he's also our group secretary. He collects our funds, sets aside money for group projects and makes sure (along with Senior) that we make group stored food purchases. This month it's Winter Red Wheat. We would like to thank all of the nice people at our local LDS cannery for their help and kindness. Even though we're not members they treat us as such with grace and gentleness.

Another deck picture. I had to post this one of Rebel. He hates me to post his picture.

This is Senior, making breakfast. He did bacon, eggs, and grits. Did a fine job of it too.

Above, an American made kerosene lantern I found at a flea market last year. We use it on the deck at night as a reference point for when we visit the outhouse. Its tank holds plenty of fuel for a long nights burn.

Which has reading materials suitable to its purpose. All firearms related, by the way.

Here's ShooterSteve's fine craftsmanship. Notice he fabricated and installed a muffler. Soon we'll build a generator house and Shooter will wire our generator to a panel.

The fuel filter.

Nice work, isn't it. ShooterSteve, like Duke, can repair a drowned mouse.

And, last but not least, Rebel's 1986 Dodge van, beautifully restored. He sleeps in it....he likes his privacy you know....most of us sleep in the Boar's Nest. We're normal. To the right is ShooterSteve.

Thanks for your time. I hope to be able to get around to all my friends blogs today....can't promise. I've been away from my business for the last four days. I've much to do...Oh, I haven't the time to edit this post, so please, ignore my mistakes.

So, until then. God bless.

Stephen

Out of Town

2012-01-20T09:42:00.000-05:00

My good friends I have preps underway for a weekend in the boondocks. I'll join my friends in our group for some work on our Boar's Nest. We'll have some fun. There will be much lead slung down range, good food, a campfire and good conversation.

I've Little Bit with me today. She's out of school, so I'm about to take her to the park. It cool outside so she should have fun on a dead run...

All this to say - dead air ahead.

Until then have a nice weekend and stay safe. We'll be out there, on guard.

Stephen

Quiz

2012-01-19T14:00:00.001-05:00

I just took this quiz. Scored perfect. It's a Pew Research quiz of only 13 questions. Only 8 percent have scored a perfect grade.

Most young people, and those pictured here, would fail.

How about you. Give it a shot and let me know how you scored.

It isn't hard, really.

H/T, PawPaw.

Stephen

Heaven Continued; It's The Little Things

2012-01-19T10:52:00.001-05:00

This morning she walked from her father's house into the cold air with a mile wide smile. Her hand held a small Christmas gift sack and shyly came to me, wrapped her little arms around mine and said, "Papa, I have a present for you."

What a nice way to begin my day. I said, "Thank you, Honey. I'll open it in the truck."

A few minutes later, on the road, I reached and took her gift. A DVD of Rudolf The Red Nosed Reindeer.

"Do you like it, Papa?" I said of course, thank you, what a nice and thoughtful present. She giggled, then became serious.

"Papa?"

"What, Honey."

"Will I be able to wear pretty clothes in Heaven?" She is such a girl...

Now, I'm thinking, in which direction will this conversation take us this morning, and I need Rev. Paul in the backseat for consultation.

She waits. Those big beautiful brown eyes search my face, her left hand holds mine. So, I give her the answer I know she wants, and in truth, deserves.

"Yes, My Love, you'll be able to wear all the pretty clothes you want in heaven."

Little squeal of delight...

Then, "And, Papa, will God lets me live in Candyland, too, I dreams about Candyland all the time, Papa."

I chuckled, and replied, "Honey, first of all, why did you ask about the pretty clothes?"

"Cause, Papa, I read my bible. And I asked my teacher about what angels wear and she said they were white things, and I asked if it was okay for me to wear my pink pajamas and she said she didn't know but thought it would be okay and Papa I almost didn't sleep all night 'cause I wants to wear my pink pajamas and not some stupid white thing, okay."

She takes a deep breath, cheeks pink. I see a traffic light ahead, and ease up on the speed; I can tell she isn't quite finished. Then, "Papa, will God love me as much as you, and will he wear his gun to take care of me from all the bad peoples like you do?"

Talk about your loaded question....

I thought for a moment, decided to take them in order. "Yes, God will allow you to live in Candyland. Little Bit, Heaven is a wonderful place. There is no fear, no pain, everyone is happy. God loves you, not sure if he loves you as much as Papa, but he indeed loves you. (Do not argue this point with me - I'd give my life for this child, as Jesus gave his for us.)

And Yes, Honey, you may wear your pink pajamas. Sweetheart, God is perfect, and God is all powerful, he doesn't need to wear a gun to protect you. Remember, in heaven people are nice. You'll always be safe in heaven."

We sit in silence for a few seconds, the morning bright. I glance over and she appears to be deep in thought. I make a preemptive strike.

"Little Bit." She's smiles and waits. "Why have you asked Papa about Heaven so much lately?"

In the blink of an eye, and before I have a chance to utter another word, she releases her seatbelt and climbs onto the console of the truck and wraps her arms around me. She squeezes me tightly, and then - "Papa, I read my bible, and it says we'll all be together in Heaven one day, and I worry about it, Papa."

In truth, she's afraid of the unknown.

"Little Bit."

She will not release me, and in fact is now softly repeating, "My Papa, my Papa, my Papa."

I gently kiss her, and tried again, "Sweetheart, please, snap your seatbelt. Honey, you need not worry about Heaven. It will be a very long time before we both go to Heaven. I'll always be here, Little Bit. Always."

I lied.

Rips my heart out.

(Post script) For those of you new to my blog, my grandchild, Little Bit, attends a private Christian school. She is six years old, and a bright little girl. She is also my heart.
To be continued, I'm certain.

Stephen

And, So It Begins

2012-01-18T10:08:00.000-05:00

Stephen

Duke

2012-01-18T09:56:00.000-05:00

My best friend, Duke, has written an excellent article on how to handle the Nanny State's jackbooted thugs when they knock on your door and demand your personal firearms.

If you haven't as yet read the post, click here.

The comments are very revealing too. One hoople-head suggested you fight back....no, no, no. You will lose. Trust me.

Please, follow Duke's advice.

Then, read the above book.

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-01-17T16:00:00.000-05:00

What a nice, sweet name - Leigh. Leigh is my new friend and follower. She has a great blog with a homesteading theme titled 5 Acres & A Dream.

If you get over to her place quickly enough you'll be able to read about her new kitchen wood stove. Please, she'd like a visit. She's our kind of person.

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

Stephen

Bits & Pieces

2012-01-17T12:19:00.000-05:00

I've been dead in the water all morning. Just now have my internet connection back. This time around the company replaced my old modem. I can tell it will be one of those days.

The weather here is awful, bright and sunny, warm...I just hate this kind of weather. Our forecast held some good news - rain tomorrow. It's about time.

On the ride to school this morning, Little Bit had a deck of Uno cards. She said she'd had to 'sneak' them out of her dad's house. When she removed the cards from her pack I asked, "Why?"

She put a shy smile on her face and replied, "So we can play cards on our ride, Papa."

"Oh, well that's nice, Sweetheart, but Papa must drive and stay alert."

She laughed. Then, "It's okay, Papa. I'll play your hand for you."

A few minutes later, "Papa, you lose, I won."

So I repeated her last back, "I lost, really?"

"Yes, Papa."

"Did you cheat?"

"Papa, I'd never cheat, but I kinda knew you'd lose before I dealt the cards."

She is a sneaky little booger....

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-01-17T09:00:00.001-05:00

To my new friend and follower, Becky. She writes the self-sufficiency blog, Simple Self Sufficiency. Becky, I promise to always reply to your comments.

I ask my other friends, please, when you find a few free moments, stop by Becky's blog and say hello. She's a sweet Georgia peach.

Becky, again, thank you and welcome. You are now among friends.

Stephen

Books

2012-01-16T17:02:00.000-05:00

It's been nice to have an extra day off. Problem is when I have time like this, in the quiet, I buy stuff. Sigh.

Books, specifically.

I have a weakness for food themed books. 'Honey from Weeds.'

Amazon has gotten stingy with their book cover photos, sorry. 'Nobody Knows The Truffles I've Seen.'

Give 'em a try.

Stephen

What's For Dinner

2012-01-16T16:37:00.000-05:00

This house sure smells good.

This is one reason.

And here's the other, Chili preps It's been on a slow simmer all day.

Damn few Swedes and no Norwegians eat this well.

Stephen

Politicians

2012-01-16T12:26:00.004-05:00

Since the birth of this blog I've avoided the subject of politicians and politics as much as possible. This morning however I've been backed into the corner, so to speak.

Over breakfast Sweet Wife broached the evils of our so called representatives. She asked why I never wrote of their lack of leadership and the resulting consequences of their reluctance to correct the apparent problems of this country. The subject of this nation's depreciating currency, debt, failing infrastructure, and moral values were the bulk of the conversation.

For the most part I remained silent. She likes to talk. Finally she asked my opinion. and why I never post my thoughts on politics. It's simple, I said, because we're screwed and there is very little we can do to change the outcome of our future, other than of course, utilization of our vote.

I continued, there are countless bloggers with far more time on their hands than I, writing their thoughts with keen wit and insight, plugged into well establish audiences. I am but a flea on the butt of humanity. Now, having said that, I told her I'd write one post, and one post only, and give my opinion of politicians in today's America.

Ready, they're worthless.

When this country was founded, with its freshly minted Constitution, we had people representation. The local village elders would gather and walk out to Farmer Brown's field where he stood behind his mule and say, hey, Farmer Brown, pack your bags, you're taking a trip to the capital. The elders gave Farmer Brown a list of instructions, issues, with notes on how to vote. His vote (here comes that big word) represented the community. A people's representative. Simple. You ask what has changed....and here is the crux of the problem we have today, as I'm sure you're very much aware.

Back when Farmer Brown voted he packed his tote, mounted his horse, and rode back to the farm and placed his butt back behind the mule. He was a farmer. Not a career professional politician.

Now, your so-called representative, in either house of the Congress, no more represents you than the coffee table before me. Every decision they make, every vote they cast, is based upon 'how will this reflect on my reelection.' Period. He's a professional, pure and simple, and until that day, when we return to that basic system of government - which I fear we'll never see again, you my good friend, are on your own.

This is the last, I hope, I'll ever write on the subject.

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-01-15T10:47:00.000-05:00

To my new friend and follower, David, writer of the very intelligently written blog, Musings Over A Pint. David, welcome, and I promise to reply to any and all comments.

I again ask all my other friends to run over and visit David's nice blog. He writes in a clear and concise style about all that is good in life; food, guns, and food, and did I mention firearms, family, faith and politics...my kind of man. Like I've said before, any man that doesn't cook is about as useless as tits on a bull.

Again, thanks and welcome, David.

You are now among friends.

Stephen

I Hope

2012-01-15T10:21:00.001-05:00

For a quiet day of books, maybe a walk around the yard, perhaps a nap, coffee with, I hope, pastries. A day of peace and quiet. I'll be satisfied with a warm fire, a lap cat, my Sweet Wife gently singing in the background as I read the Sunday paper. I hope for an hour or so to lightly caress - one of my firearms.

I hope, my friends, the same for you.

If we're lucky, maybe late this afternoon, a cup of hot chocolate.

Take care.

Stephen

Help Me Thank You

2012-01-15T09:59:00.001-05:00

I open my laptop this morning to find my follower count indicates I've gained another member. Problem is I haven't a clue as to who you are which makes it impossible to give proper thanks.

This might just be a Blogger or Goggle mistake...or not. So if you're my new follower please help me thank you.

Stephen

What's For Dinner

2012-01-14T15:00:00.000-05:00

Tonight if all goes well, or perhaps tomorrow, if it doesn't. Either way, this is a 'slap 'ya mama' meal.

Shrimp Creole.

There are countless recipes for this dish but I highly recommend this one from Deep South Dish.

Enjoy, and until later.

Stephen

AK-47's Found In The Firewood

2012-01-14T10:53:00.000-05:00

And the idiot turned them over to the Russian police....story here.

Bubba, I'm here to tell 'ya, if I'd found these rifles, well, let's just say they'd never see the inside of a police station.

H/T to Frank James.

Stephen

Shotgun Adapters

2012-01-14T09:32:00.000-05:00

You may remember I've posted about the versatility of chamber adapters for shotguns and rifles and how I feel they should be utilized and are an important part of any survivalists preparations.

Seems Dave agrees with me.

I'll admit this is filler. It's Saturday and I'm busy. I may not post until this evening....such is life. My other post on chamber adapters can be found here.

Enjoy.

Stephen

What's for Dinner

2012-01-13T17:02:00.000-05:00

In a couple of hours I'm closing the shop and will drive home and make tacos. Maybe, if Sweet Wife is lucky, I'll also whip up a mess of refried beans.

Ya'll come on over and join us.

Stephen

I Want

2012-01-13T15:00:00.000-05:00

This little baby, just because.

It's a USFA M4-410. All steel, six shot.

The details can be found here.

Stephen

The Next Depression

2012-01-13T11:30:00.000-05:00

It isn't often, or I should say extremely rare for me to link a news article - but you should read this.

You decide.

Stephen

It's The Little Things

2012-01-13T09:19:00.002-05:00

Our weather has turned cool with a fairly stiff breeze. Nice.

On our ride to school this morning, Little Bit, all happy and filled with song, said, "Papa."

"What, Sweetheart?"

"I want you to promise me something." Uh-oh...

"Honey, it's hard for Papa to make a promise when I've yet to hear what you want me to promise."

She thinks about it for a moment or two. A few cars zoom pass. I count my usual morning flight of geese, 6, then she turns back to me and, "Papa, really, I promise to give you the biggest wet kisses, and I promise to hug you all hard as possible, and really, Papa, I won't forget to wave goodbye this morning if you'll only buy me a Caramel Hot Chocolate this morning at McDonald's."

I did as requested. She fulfilled her promises too.

I mean, whom among us could refuse big wet kisses from their grandchild....

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-01-13T09:01:00.000-05:00

To a very interesting man, and my new friend and follower, Russ writer of the blog Russ-Stick Acres. Welcome Russ and I promise to always answer any comments as soon as possible.

To my other friends, please, skip over and check out our new friends blog. Trust me, it's good. If you like all things gunny, and if you're a member of the NRA, enjoy sled dogs, farm animals and the snow of Lower Michigan, you'll enjoy this blog.

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

Stephen

Dreams of a Firing Range

2012-01-12T10:41:00.000-05:00

My best friend Duke just walked out of my shop. He came in early and we chewed the fat for a couple of hours. His mother-in-law isn't well. I'll let him explain the rest when he's ready.

We chatted of many things, one of them is our dream to open an outdoor shooting range. A dream, if done properly, well within our reach. Find a five acre parcel far outside the city limits. Begin small with a two hundred yard rifle range, a handgun shed, kid's area. The possibilities are limitless.

Like I said, a dream.

With the help of our other friends, it could happen. Yes, we have our own private range, and it's just that, private. This range we'd open to the public for day shoots. No memberships, no board members to screw the fun, rapid fire acceptable, no baffles. A shooting range where common sense rules apply. There are hurdles. The EPA buttwipes, county zoning laws - the least of which is their silly noise ordnance, permits...like that. We'll do our homework.

We might even allow cops to use our range....might. At any rate, it'd be a hell of a nice retirement job. Think about it, firing ranges, and gun shows, are the last bastion of free thinking independent men.

I hope to have all my friends, our group, involved in this dream. Lord knows when all of us get together we make dreams possible.

We'll see.

Stephen

Bits & Pieces

2012-01-11T13:00:00.000-05:00

This morning we have heavy gray clouds which I believe will burn off well before noon. Yesterday's forecast called for heavy rains. The weatherman lied to us. Either way, it was dark this morning as I took Little Bit to school.

After breakfast and as we're walking back to my truck she asked, "Papa, why do people live in heaven?"

I hate these sort of questions. She, it seems lately, is obsessed with the concept of death and those that have passed on to the other side. It confuses her, and for the record, I'm far from an expert on the subject.

I threw together a quick answer, "Because God wants company, Sweetheart." Flash of brilliance, don't you agree.

"Then he gets lonely too?"

Now think of her comeback. Dig around in it and take a long sniff. Am I the only one concerned with the 'lonely too' part...

Now understand I had no desire, at all, to continue this conversation. It's early, I'd only one cup of coffee in my system, I had a low grade headache, and other concerns that itched my mind. Yet, she is my heart. I took the dive headfirst.

"Are you lonely, Sweetheart?"

If I remember correctly she replied, "Not now."

Again, "Do you get lonely during the day or while you're at Daddy's house?"

"Yes."

She released my hand and began to skip towards the truck. She bounced along as carefree as any child you're likely to see in a parking lot. Just before she reached my ride she stopped and glanced up at flock of birds, crows. She turned and smiled. She loves birds.

I allowed the subject to rest until another day. Why spoil it.

Late last night while I was dinking around near the back of our house I could hear a train far across the river. I love trains. It seems to me the sound of a train whistle holds its clear notes for a far greater distance, during winter, than during the hot humid months of summer. It also evokes memories of my childhood. Very fond memories.

My childhood home held close to a set of train tracks. Me and my friends considered the local railroad trestle our property. It was a war zone.

We'd gather in groups of ten, sometimes less, and take positions on either side of the railroad bed. We'd then gather piles of flint rock. Each boy would then consider the merits of individual rocks for battle. Then we'd hunker down. We'd select one boy for the countdown. At the signal, we'd all fire. I'm amazed we're still alive.

We'd throw rocks at each other as hard as humanly possible. I liked the side arm sling. My buddy, Willie Lee, a gifted short stop at twelve, used the overhand method. Many a boy walked away with a black eye from Willie Lee's hard and fast throws. One night we found ourselves on opposite sides of the track bed.

Before we took positions, "Willie Lee, I'm gonna bust your butt."

"We'll see."

He made one mistake. He stood to out flank me. He took one of my best shots to the groin, and dropped as if he'd been pole axed. Or, so I thought. Turns out Willie Lee was also a gifted actor. Ever been hit with a nice sparkly gray piece of flint....it hurts. When he hit the dirt I stood and walked over to take possession of my kill. In my childish mind I'd already picked the spot on the living room wall for his head. I strutted over ready to count coup, claim my prize, take a scalp.

Remember, he was my best friend, my buddy for life. When I was less than five foot away, and mentally removing my coup knife, he sprang back to life like some dark Ninja, and with a graceful overhead throw, hit me square in the chin with a chunk of flint. I went down, for real, like a side of beef. I swear stars danced in my head for days.

I still wear the scar, and still love the night music of trains.

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

2012-01-11T11:58:00.000-05:00

To my new friend, Abbe. She writes the blog, Chaos. Abbe, I promise to answer any and all comments. It might take me a few hours, perhaps days, if life is busy, but rest assured I'll reply.

As always I ask my fellow readers to click and give Abbe a visit. If we yell enough maybe we'll get her to update her blog. She has talent, shame to see it wasted.

Abbe, again, welcome to my humble blog - you are now among friends.

Stephen

Homemade Shotgun

2012-01-11T11:32:00.000-05:00

If you must, this will work. I strongly recommend you just run out and buy a shotgun and if that 'day' ever arrives, bury it.

H/T To one of the best blogs out there.

Thanks & Welcome

2012-01-11T08:47:00.000-05:00

To my new friend and follower, Mystic Mud a beautiful mother of ten (10) children and the excellent writer of the blog by the same name, Mystic Mud.

I promise to always reply to your comments, so feel free to jump in and give your opinions at any time.

Mystic writes a blog of her and her family's adventures as they carve out a homestead, a subject dear to my heart, atop a mountain in Tennessee. To my other friends I ask, please, ride over and say hello. I'm sure it will be worth the trip.

Once again, thank you very much for hitting that follower button.

Stephen

What 'da Heck

2012-01-10T16:49:00.000-05:00

I hear screams, yells, shouts of 'mofo this, and you gonna pay a**hole. Quickly look outside and there must have been sixteen democritters, at a hard run down the street. Within seconds the crowd had disappeared into the park.

Appeared as if all were about sixteen or seventeen years old, boys.

None offered me a clear shot.

Fun while it lasted.

Stephen

Right On

2012-01-10T13:11:00.000-05:00

Further explanation, I feel, isn't necessary.

H/T Joel

Stephen

Magazines

2012-01-10T12:33:00.000-05:00

My world the last few days has been jerky and busy to say the least. Sorry for the lack of post. It's taken all morning for me to write this simple post, which should give you an idea of my day so far. This is good, don't get me wrong. My blog will always take a backseat to my capitalistic greed....

This morning I unlocked my door to find a small pile of magazines scattered across the carpet; mail delivery from yesterday. Many of these, the business receives free of charge. It's a promotional service provided to any business with a customer base that exceeds the number of two. The publishers are betting you'll come in and scan the magazine and jerk out those little cards and subscribe. So be it. Many are personal subscriptions I've received for years, like Shotgun News.

A few samples...

I'll not insert a picture of Playboy, can't find a picture I'll feel comfortable posting here. Nor will I list those publications I receive that deal with minority issues which I file in the 'ole trash can. Reader's Digest surprised me. I was under the impression the magazine ceased publication years ago. Goes to show what I know.

It's evident, by the heavy listing of firearms related magazines, of my interest. The shame is I seldom have the time to read each issue completely. I do scan them, mostly on rainy days.

Duty awaits.

Stephen

Long Day

2012-01-09T18:55:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the silence today. It's been a long one filled with doctors appointments and other affairs. I'll be back tomorrow. Presently, I whupped.

Until then.

Stephen

Sunday, Late

2012-01-08T17:07:00.001-05:00

I just came inside after giving my one new citrus a drink of water. Our one find was a nice four foot Kumquat, and a Brown Turkey fig. It appears I need to travel further and hit some nurseries outside our area.

I walked into our kitchen's dining room and found this:

I asked Sweet Wife why....she said Little Bit had just settled in to draw and paint when her father arrived to take her home. She instructed her Nana to 'leave it alone.' It will remain untouched.

Time for a nap. Before I leave you, guess what I had for a late lunch...

Later.

Stephen

Bits and Pieces

2012-01-08T12:02:00.000-05:00

Ah, Sunday morning and coffee. The newspaper is read and Paula Deen is on the tube. I foresee a lazy day ahead.

Maybe, just maybe we'll take a ride, take in the flea market. I'd like to find a couple of citrus trees for my front yard. Perhaps a Satsuma orange, a Ruby Red grapefruit, and if I could spell Quamquat, one of those too. Yes, its a citrus, little fruit.

Little Bit went home last night. Her father is under the impression he has a right to spend time with her too.

It's warm here, 70's, frigging hot.

In a couple of weeks our group will spend the weekend out at our Boar's Nest. We'll work digging a trench for a power line. Hopefully the weather will cooperate and turn cold. It'd be nice to build a fire in our old woodstove and scent the building with pine and oak.

Evenings there, after the days activities are finished, are spent on the deck under the light of kerosene lamps, and if we're lucky, the song of coyotes as the deer browse at the edge of the swamp under a cold clear canopy of bright stars. We'll talk well into the night. We chat of future plans, family, food and firearms, our lives. As it is with a group of veterans we'll share past experiences, old wounds, and heal a few nightmares. We'll tease, poke and jab at each the other, all in fun of course.

If we're lucky, Duke won't do his nude 'rain dance' around the campfire.

Should be fun.

Sweet Wife has shot one of her 'looks' my way which means it's time for me to get my butt in gear and take her to the flea market. She seeks cast iron 'loaf ' pans. Those little suckers which are used to bake small loaves of fruit or nut breads. I told her good luck. The old ones are rare.

As we say down here; ya'll have a good day.

Stephen

Thousand Yard Coyote

2012-01-07T15:00:00.000-05:00

So you think you're a good long distance shot, watch this video.

Impressive.

Stephen

Chuckle

2012-01-07T13:00:00.001-05:00

As you know I keep the foul language to a minimum on my blog. After all it's written for my grandchildren. Having said that, I'll excuse the one bad word (hear me Little Bit) in this video, because it's funny and I've been known to use the same book and language.

Get it....

Stephen

Lifespan of Mountain House Foods

2012-01-07T12:23:00.000-05:00

I just received an email. Read. 29 years, not bad.

No, not one penny....

Stephen