The Rule of Three

My friends and I live by the rule of three. Our recent flood destroyed a few items of my gear. One item was my Coleman two-burner camp stove. I still have it and will probably ask my friend, Shooter Steve, to work his magic and restore the old critter for me, but in the meantime I've been cruising Ebay.

This morning I placed a bid on what I hope will be my old stoves replacement. It's a model 425F built in 1979 with its original box. It's in excellent condition.

Here's a file photo...not the one from Ebay.

I still have means of meal prep with my LP kitchen range, grill, and portable military surplus alcohol stove, but I find Coleman stoves hard to beat. As it stands there is a hole in my preps that needs to be filled.

I've left a message for the other bidder.....he or she better heed my warning. I want that stove.

Stephen

Bits & Pieces

I type this post under a handicap...kinda reduced to a seek and peck on my keyboard. Two days ago, like an idiot, I reached into a box for a thingamajig and cut my right point finger on an upraised discarded razor. Deep. I said a few magic words like; gosh golly gee, and ah shucks, then, darn it all. It hurt.

Dripped blood across the length of my garage and through the house to our bedroom where I left a trail on my wife's carpet then into the bathroom. Slung a bit on the mirror after leaving a puddle in a drawer where I attempted to dig out a bandaid...ever try to apply a bandaid with your left hand when you're right handed. Yeah, like that.

Anyway, now you know why I didn't post yesterday. Since I was out of commission, Sweet Wife grabbed my laptop and would not return it. Gave me a look, she did...

It's still sore. More of an aggravation than painful. Razor blades are kinda sharp.

Believe it or not Sweet Wife made me clean the blood trail. Mean woman.

*****

Remember the H&R Plainsman .22 rifle....of course you do. It was broken, or so I thought. I had a few minutes the other day and glanced over and grabbed the rifle. Took a long look at it. Removed the action from the stock and discovered the hammer frozen in place. The rifle was manufactured in 1948, according to the serial number, and I'm sure the action (trigger and hammer and bolt) had not been oiled since the day it left the line.

I applied some lubrication and a few gentle taps with punch and hammer and after a few minutes had the old girl back in action. Placed a .22 short round in the chamber and walked out back and pulled the trigger. Nice little pop.

She needs further care. I'll take her home and strip the barrel, and if I'm in the mood, put a fresh blue on her. She isn't worth more than fifty bucks, but she is a man sized rifle and worth the effort.

*****

I've had my nose stuck solidly in a book the last few days. Our television is seldom on of late...darn Olympics. When your channels of choice are reduced to Discover and History and The Outdoors Channel, and the programs are repeats, well, why bother.

Thank goodness for books.

*****

I purchased five fifty caliber ammo cans at the gunshow last weekend. Poof - they're full. I need about ten more of the same.

Sad, isn't it.

*****

Time for work.

Please, take care out there.

Stephen

What's For Dinner

Recently I had two requests. The first was from a reader asking if I'd give her my chili recipe, and the second was from my lovely wife, upon notification of the first request, to cook said chili on the next rainy day here in North Florida. Guess what, today I shall kill two birds with one stone.

Dear reader, my chili is very simple to build. First you'll need two pounds, no less, of the leanest ground beef, or lean beef stew meat. I like a bit more than two pounds so don't sweat the small stuff.

Brown it.


Now, as the meat is fired take two large onions and chop. I like sweet Vidalia onions, but any white onion will suffice. You will also need three standard sized cans of pinto beans, drained of that awful liquid, any brand, and two cans of tomatoes.  Hey, I like tomatoes in my chili and I'm not from Texas so live with it. The ratio of three beans to two tomato I've found perfect. Adjust to your taste.

About the pinto beans...many like kidney beans, fine. I just don't like the flavor of kidney beans, and for some odd reason, even after of hours of slow cooking, they always seem to 'crunch' to me. You be the judge, but I've found pintos best for my taste.

 My spice list is as follows. (If you prefer the easy way out just grab a box of your local store brand chili mix. It is, after all, your chili.)



Ground chili peppers, oregano, cumin, paprika, cayenne pepper - these are the basics. I don't follow teaspoon or tablespoon measurements. I'm one of those, 'a pinch of this and a pinch of that' kind of fella. I season by taste. Of course you'll also need a dash of salt and pepper.

 Above, the onions ready for the pot. I know. I use BIG onions.



After the ground beef has browned add the onions and allow them to cook until translucent.

 Above, almost there.


 
When the onions are ready, add beef stock. Never, ever, use plain tap water.

If stock isn't available, try 'Better Than Bouillon' beef base. Please, follow the directions carefully as this is a very concentrated product. Just a teaspoon added to water will give your chili a far better taste than plain water. I seldom if ever use water when I cook. I keep several boxes of both chicken and beef stock in my pantries. If all else fails it's perfectly fine to use chicken stock in your chili.

After you've introduced the stock, stir and begin to add the beans, tomatoes, and spices. Take a few good finger pinches of kosher salt and throw it in the pot. Add black pepper to taste. Stir well and reduce the flame. Since I use gas I place my pot on a simmer plate.

 Today, just for slaps and tickles, I tried 'Slap Ya Mama' Cajun seasoning along with my usual red pepper flakes. I like my chili hot. Otherwise you might as well attend a girl scout meeting...

 Above, ready for the lid and many hours on simmer. This batch will cook for six to eight hours.



I hope this helps and I haven't forgotten a few steps. I think I've covered the bases. Chili, like many things in life, is built to an individuals personal taste. Don't be afraid to make adjustments.

Enjoy.

Stephen 

Thanks & Welcome

To my new friend and follower, Robert Fowler. Robert writes the blog, Second Amendment March, a darn fine blog and I highly recommend all of my other fine friends to take a moment from your busy day and click and give him a visit.

Robert, I promise to always answer any comment you leave....it might take me a few hours and in some rare cases, days, but count on it, I shall answer. If for some odd reason I miss any comment let me know and I'll correct my oversight.

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

Stephen

The Gang & The Gunshow

Just now home from church and fried chicken. Sweet Wife is happy. This is the third time in a month she's tricked me into attending a brick and mortar church.  I've been a good boy- didn't say a word during any of the services. I simply slipped my Kindle out and read, elbow or no elbow.

*****

Yesterday was fun. Our group gathered at a local gunshow. The cast of characters included, yours truly and my Sweet Wife. (At first she declined. Then she was informed our good friend, Jacked Up Glock Mom planned to escort her husband, Senior Chief, so Sweet Wife quickly changed her mind.) Along with our other best friends, Pirate Jim, and Rebel, we had a six pack.

Two of our group missed out - Duke, away on vacation, and Shooter Steve. Shooter Steve is a newly wed and has yet mastered the ability to check his email so missed out on a great gunshow and lunch. He's young and I'm sure in time he'll learn.

We gathered at the door of the venue at 0900, after of course, we disarmed. Ironic isn't it...one must first unload their concealed weapons to attend a gun show. So I walk inside with two full magazines attached to my belt.

The ladies went left, the guys right.

Gunshows smell good, at least to me. The scent of oil and wood and leather fills the air. I love the racks of old firearms and the bits and pieces of gear and spare parts, cleaning rods and brushes and countless AR grips. Old slings and trench knives with the odd sun bleached olive drab ammo pouches.

We took our time, ambled along. The prices were very high, almost ridiculous. I've attended many shows in my lifetime, more than I can count, and I've never seen prices reach such levels. Most, I dare say, high retail.  My expectations of a deal died quickly. My want list was small when I approached the door, it quickly shrank. The list included a lower, a few spare AR parts, perhaps some ammo along with .50 caliber ammo cans, and books.

I scored on three out of five. I did find a Ragnar Benson.

As you can see above, I also found a Spikes lower. I did find a few PMS lowers but the dealer was a pawn shop owner and was awful proud of his inventory, so I passed.

My good friend, Pirate Jim, stumbled across a nice M1. He's a collector of vintage military rifles. Its a fine disease. He paid and took his new baby home. Sweet Wife said of Pirate Jim, "He's so sweet. Look how he's holds his rifle. Just like a baby." I thought, 'Well heck yes, why shouldn't he.'

Above, Pirate Jim stands next to a display of gun culture themed books.

At one point Rebel and I came upon a display of private arms. I've noticed over the last few years dealers will proudly display 'private sale' signs on their booths. Loop holes be damned. I've also noticed their booths are knee deep in business. As we checked out this dealer's inventory Rebel spotted a nice little Revelation pump .410, the prefect little squirrel weapon. He and the dealer bickered a bit and Rebel walked away with a fine little Mossberg built shotgun. Pump .410's are fairly scarce. Revelation was a Western Auto store brand.

Above a display of .300 Blackout barrels and lowers. Local manufacturer. Senior Chief's next AR build.

At one point, as I filled out a 4473, Rebel walked over and asked if I wanted a piece of action in a bulk ammo can purchase. Said, yes. The dealer wanted ten dollars each. We checked each seal, stacked the cans, and smiled all afternoon. I walked away with five.

I'll take a step into dangerous territory - ready....never, ever, take your wives to a gunshow.  As I've said, I took my time to stroll up and down each aisle. I was happy...then, the women began to complain. They're hungry. Their backs hurt. Their feet were sore. I've yet to take in half the show. Guess what.

We ignored them. Above, Pirate Jim and his new baby. Displayed on the table, Rebel's .410.

Then, the women came back and slapped us. Above, my Sweet Wife. If you look closely you'll see she has a little AR-15 ink pen, a gift to me. She's clutches other secret booty. I've found it best to hold tight to my wallet.

And, above, my wallet next to a sack which holds a .22 conversion kit. Notice the price.

The women finally won. The gang followed Rebel's jeep to lunch. During lunch the rain's began to fall.

I'm rich with friends.

Stephen

A Weekend Off

Just home from a Mexican dinner with Sweet Wife. I'm stuffed. I was allowed my one Corona. She was nice to me tonight.

I'm taking the weekend off. I'm tired, wore out, whupped, and whipped. All my friends along with yours truly shall take our place at the front door of a local gunshow tomorrow morning at 0900. I haven't a need for another firearm so shall seek out the little things. I need a new AR multi-tool. I'll look for small parts, perhaps another well made lower for another build; I hear Palmetto State has made a name for itself with their careful craftsmanship and attention to detail on their basic lowers...we'll see. At less than eighty dollars and without a shipping cost its a fine deal.

Since I skipped the last gunshow I'll get another chance to browse for a few books too. Maybe fill in my Ragnar Benson collection. There is a chance I'll make an ammunition purchase, not sure.

*****

I hate the Olympics....let's keep this between us.

*****

It's time to break out my Kindle. I'd like to reread Unintended Consequences once more for old times sake. Take care my friends, and sometime late tomorrow I'll tell you about all the fun and adventure we had at the gunshow.

Stephen

So This Guy Walks

Into my shop, steps aside for a moment then he asked, "Hey, is it okay if I bring a couple of items inside?"

I love it when they ask me that question.

Said, "Sure. We still live in a semi-free country."  He steps back out and walks inside with a box and two firearms wrapped in a large towel.

I take the firearms and box from him. Two rifles, both .22 caliber. I immediately sit one aside and gently take the other rifle and give it a good once over...what was it that fella said about Obama, the quiver up and down his leg thing...anyway without further ado I asked, "How much?"

As he's forming his reply I glance inside the box. It holds, along with two magazines, several boxes of vintage (to you) boxes of ammunition. Some Remington Hi-Speed .22's in short, long, and long rifle. Two boxes of Western Super-X, a couple of odd ball brands, and a partial box of paper 12 guage  #5 shot Remington shells. If you're a collector of vintage boxed ammo you know how I felt.

One of the rifles is a beautiful 1930's era Remington Model 24. The other, a Harrington & Richardson Model  865 'Plainsman,' junk. I asked again, "What do you want?"

He shuffles, looks around, then said, "Well, really I need fifty bucks."

I gave him my look - all cool don't 'ya know. Said, "Listen, this rifle," and I place my hand on the H&R, "Is junk and I don't need nor want it. The bolt doesn't work correctly and its either missing the firing pin or its locked up tight. It'll need more work than its worth. Right back at me, "It's a package deal. I need to get rid of them."

Days like this just try my soul.

"Are you sure and firm with your price. I do like the old ammo boxes. They're kinda cute."

He said, "I understand, but yes, I want fifty dollars for all of it."

I let him win. I'm nice like that.

Stephen